"He loves me." He shared with me his secrets, Hidden between kisses. I stockpiled every last one, Treating them like stained glass; I avoided touching them, But I loved watching the world Through his colorful view. ~He loves me not.~ He only ever looked at me Through a rainbow lens, And it leaves me … Continue reading He loves me; he loves me not.
I had the rights words. Sweetling, they were here, Careful carved into The chalky remains Of my soiled soul. The perfect combination, Equal parts desire and guilt, Cloaked in the allure Of a better tomorrow. If you had waited, Just through today, I swear I had it all. If you ever find yourself In … Continue reading “My breath is being forced down my esophagus and into my stomach, where it’s keeping my bubbling guts company as I choke on another dozen pills.”
Walking around the corner, I looked up, searching for the sky. The buildings blocked any shine from the Sun, and all I could think was “what a boring view.” An endless universe exists up there, and I can only see a fraction of a fraction in the best situations, and here I am, living in … Continue reading “Everyone is a someone, and while you don’t know who you are right this second, it’s still a fact that you will always be you.”
I wish I could tell you How much I miss you Without it having to feel So pathetic. I don’t expect you To return to me Any of the things I gave to you. I just want a chance To say the things I’m still feeling. You don’t have to listen. Even though … Continue reading “I’m not going to waste my time screaming into the void. I’m going to find you, plant my feet, and from my own mouth, say the words I need to hear the most.”
Her hands trace over your body, And as they move down your neck The butterflies in your stomach Melt into a solid mass Of fear and uncertainty For what her hands will find… The scars you’ve tried to hide In your summer hoodies And forced affinity for jeans. Her fingers reach your shoulder, Burning … Continue reading “I loved the way she touched me, the way she ran her hands over my past without reservation.”
It’s nothing more than simple math; if you add 0 to anything, it doesn’t do a damn thing. I used to think I was a 0, that I was just nothingness floating through space, not contributing anything of value, but also not taking anything away. Over time I started to feel that I couldn’t be … Continue reading “In the end, it ends how it began; you weren’t there, and you aren’t here, and I’m sure I’d be fine, if you just stayed..”
When I’m talking to you, I never feel like I’m ever talking “at” you. Like, when I’m telling you a story about work, or about something I did as a kid, or something I imagined I’d do someday, I know your listening. I’m not sure how I know, I just do. It probably has to … Continue reading “For every day I spent believing I deserved to be alone, you promised to help me find all of them, so you could show me that there was never a time when I didn’t deserve love.”
My smile isn’t what it used to be. I’ve managed to put some miles on my smile, which is inevitable for anybody who’s ever allowed another person into their heart. That sounds negative, but it’s a neutral fact of life. Honestly, if I were to meet an adult whose smile shined as if it had … Continue reading “I want to give you pretty things, like seashells, forehead kisses and promises I’ll never break.”
Whenever I’m alone, the darkness starts to set in, and I devolve into a mass of guilt and cruelty. I recognize my own sins for what they are; conscience decisions made in the face of a two-faced God. All of the good I’ve accomplished in this world is credited to my creator, while any evil … Continue reading “You walk around in the shadow of your sins, looking for an Ocean to drown out the last dredges of your humanity.”
I’m not a fan of flowers, or at least not real ones. I like paintings of flowers. I like buying fancy parchment with flowery borders. I like writing poems about purple irises, yellow daffodils and pink tulips. I like doodling roses on my notepad during boring office meetings. I like the idea of throwing the … Continue reading “She doesn’t give you rose tinted glasses, she just paints you the colors you were always meant to wear.”
That little light from your lampshade 