not a single
c r eeeeak ing
that will always
Tonight I feel loney, I need you to hold me
Need to feel the warmth of your lips on the back of my neck
Humming the melodys and rap beats that never leave your head
And the smell of you to fill the air of my bedroom
Laying in bed, eating pizza, watching movies, and making out
I have the best nights when there spent with you
And you tell me I'm lovely, but never say you love me
That I'm the only girl for you
But your out somewhere, God knows where
Stumbling around downtown, causing chaos and drunken brawls
Kissing girls, picking fights, and doing things I'd rather know nothing about
You'll never grow up or leave this god forsaken town
Everyone tells me that deserve so much more, they tell me you'll never treat me right
You're a big dreamer distracted by fleating memories of glory days, a totally fucked up mess
I'm laying here alone and there's nobody else I want, I find your carefree life charming
You piss me off but I kind of like putting up with you and all your bullshit
I don't know how to feel.
I'll be okay.
Hope is still within' me.
There's just too much to learn how to deal.
It's as if I'm reading the Yellow Wallpaper again.
As she walks around the room, circles, circles.
The paper learning her routine.
My mind taking the same route, man.
Allow me to smile for you;
I'm trying so hard.
And you walked out, holding hands with her.
Don't worry, that was my cue.
Told you I was going to bed.
Both of you.
It's as if my hands were behind my back, bound and tied.
I'm gonna let this week go by.
Music and studies are calling my name.
And you all will see me around, but not for too long.
I'm sorry, it's just all one big lie.
I can't stand to eat at that Chinese food place; the same order (D12), that was scattered on you floor in unorganized containers.
That same floor that felt you touch me, that same floor that sprung me to my feet and watched as you led me to your bedroom.
That same bedroom that heard our moans for four painful months because I was too weak to say no. That same bedroom that saw me shake and cry every morning before school, because I no longer believed that your hands held love.
That same school that knew of our secrets, that same school that knew I was falling apart into unorganized pieces just like that Goddamn Chinese food on your Goddamn floor, only thirteen steps away from that Goddamn bed.
I keep this bottle of pills, filled up to the brim. And I leave them on my nightstand.
I keep the small container without stealing any
Even when my head is throbbing so hard, I can hear my pulse deep inside my ears.
But I keep them; so if I ever want to taste them all in one setting,
The option is there.
I don’t plan to take these pills. I just have them; just in case.
Because you can’t plan death, you can’t sit down one night and say, “I, want, to, die.”
It doesn’t work like that, depression isn’t that simple.
It’s not an impulsive act or feeling; it’s a build down.
And I say build down because it sure as hell doesn’t make you feel good about yourself.
It piles in your head, like dirty laundry that’s been there for days and sits around the floor,
Because you can’t get out of bed.
It adds up, like miles on that old car that seems to cost a fortune every week but you can’t afford a new one.
Because if you could, maybe you’d leave your pillow and see the world,
Like a cross country road trip, pushing pins into a board, marking all of the spots in the world you want to stop and see.
But if my arm were a highway, and these straight lines my tourist spots, my blade would be my car.
It’s not a Cadillac or an SUV. It’s been used,
Back when I actually gave a fuck about what I looked like.
I don’t cut slashes in my wrist anymore
As if I was a four year old erasing the white ink from her canvas, coloring with a silver crayon.
And I may be lying when I say,
I don’t have a razor blade hidden within the drawer.
Because I keep that thin, shiny piece of metal that pulls so easily against flesh,
Maybe someday I don’t want to relapse and start over.
I want to succeed.
But that isn’t something I can plan.
As we lay on my twin-size bed,
I wondered how I was so lucky.
I pondered your beauty at night,
And marveled your person at day.
Your face illuminated my heart,
But at bay, I knew something had gone wrong.
Your smiles began to change,
And you started to refrain.
We had a romance, but we had lost touch.
My last memory of you
Is looking deep into your eyes.
As we lay, all alone, across my twin-size bed.
Her name was Holiday.
She smelled of pine,
and her eyes,
Glistened like the snow and ice
That blankets the lanes
keeping the families stuck inside.
Her voice was angel,
And she sang songs that only
Angels could hear.
She told stories that only taught
Families what it really meant to be a
And what it really meant to give and
Her hands were soft.
Her stature, so much grace.
She had a way with warming up
Like mittens you give to children
Or at least that’s what we’re told
In the fairy tales
that we will tell
Our children before bed
On those December nights
When the cold freezes over the windows,
But the wood stove is
When I was a child, I wondered if monsters really did exist.
I would check under my bed and in my closet,
not because I was scared, but because I was curious.
And when I was a child I learned that they do.
Monsters don't always appear as people would expect
They commonly hide in our cities, schools, and sometimes our families.
They scarey part though, they can hide in our hearts,
or even our subconscious thoughts.
I met my first monster while I was still a child.
And while most would think it appeared to me with a shaved head,
driving a truck with confederate flags,
and a swastika tattooed inside his lip
so racial slurs can roll unfiltered off it's tongue.
My monster was the mother of my best friend.
She stood looking down on me like a doctor looks at a forty year old fry cook.
And while I never did understand why the brown of my skin resembled filth in her eyes,
or how she could look at a child, with that look of disgust.
When I was a child, I could understand, that these monsters do exist.
I want to be in your bed,
breathing you in
running my fingers
across your skin.
Don't you miss me?
I cannot stop thinking about you.
I wish I hadn't fallen
but I've lost myself in you
and the colic in the front of your hair
that begs to be stroked
as you softly snore.
I tried to resist
I should have known
that I never could.
Now I'm watching the once white snow
become splattered with muck
disgusting on the side of the road
as I'm sure you see me now.
Still I will wait
even though this is killing me
I know it wouldn't
if you didn't mean something.
Maybe I'll beg you
to read the words
spilling out of my soul.
Maybe I'll hide them
and pretend again
that I don't feel the way I do.
It is killing me
that I cannot be with you.
She was a very kind girl. She was there for me throughout my divorce. A month before Alyssa left I was drunk and on Facebook. I thought I recognized Crystal from somewhere but couldn't remember exactly, so I added her as a friend. I was too far gone to really hold a conversation but I remember exactly what I said, "I'm skittles too drunk to be talking to a beautiful girl like you."
The month passed, Alyssa left, and my devastated mind grew insane. Once to the point where I was crying in misery on my bed, sleepless, starved, and desperate. So desperate I turned to God. Something happened in that moment I can't explain. I prayed and felt a peace wash over me. Was it real or just a sleepless mind? I think I'll be asking myself that for the rest of my life.
During that time I wrote again for the first time in years. Picking up pen in the form of thumbs and I spilled blame, cursed my name, I painted myself a demon on Facebook for all friends and family to see. Crystal commented on my post with encouraging words, this perfect stranger. In loneliness, and desperate for someone who understood I messaged her. She had been separated from her husband for two months. She was walking me through the emotions, the rocky path of loneliness, and letting me know I wasn't alone. I was not alone.
We did some harmless online flirting as was my custom from too many hours typing and not enough staring a girl in the eye. She sent me pictures and in return I wrote her poetry. I think I fell in love with her too quickly and "in love" isn't quite right. I just knew for a fact that she was something to be revered. I wasn't nearly over Alyssa, still not to this day, as sad as that might seem. Crystal freed me from feeling guilty about writing, lusting, and loving someone else. It's one of the reasons I fell.
After one month of constantly talking, day to day, hour to hour, and minute blended into minute. Becoming acquainted with a beauty I had never met and a beauty in a way I never knew before. One night she finally agreed to have me over. I had no idea what to expect and I think she had a much different plan. Something submerged in lust, and likely to end up touched. I wish I had been in a different place because she dropped her lighter multiple time just waiting for me to smack her ass. Just waiting for me to be that escape she wanted, and needed. I hadn't hit rock bottom just yet, for that was to come later, but I was still a mess. I think I shaved but only because I didn't want to look like a complete ass. I remember grabbing a bottle of Seagram's Vodka cause she refused to tell me what she wanted to drink. I've come to understand that she's a lot like me in that aspect. It doesn't really matter, it does the job. I knew she had kids, but had no idea what that would mean. I don't think I saw them once that night and that thought haunts me.
That night I could tell she was going crazy. The house still a mess and her clothes dirty. A smudge across her face that I dared not say anything about. It was shocking because the only girl I knew was painted in beautiful pictures on Facebook and scantly clad teasers, texted on lonely nights, a lovely body devoid of attention. I wasn't nearly prepared for this encounter and thank god she's as forgiving as she is. The women I've been used to are abrupt and opinionated. She is but she was shy with her eyes and would rather be turned away to speak. She was anxious and distraught. I know now the situation of men, alcohol, and frustration. A heart breaking story of rape and the terror of being a girl coming back into the dating scene after so long being out.
Her soul is attracted to unsavory types, to bad men, with unkind intentions. She was as unprepared for me as I her. That night she told me a lie. That she was sick and scared she was going to die. I had my reasons to disbelieve but I find it best to trust until proven otherwise. She played the sickly mother so I bought it and I cried. I had only just met her but she meant so much to me. I had barely any friends, cut off from life and family by an self conscious ex who complained if she had to go out. So I clung to her as a newly found relationship, as a human connection which therefor made me human. I am barely human if at all.