I am an introvert.
Or so they say.
But I don’t know why they say half the things they do anyway…
What is an introvert?
Someone who enjoys the quiet
Page turns of a good book?
Someone who enjoys the
Euphoria of sipping tea?
Someone who prefers yoga
Basked in the candle-light glow
Over a mind full of mary jane?
Why yes, then,
I am an introvert…
…drowning in my own solitude
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 2:58 PM UTC
How do I know if it's real?
I think about you
I fantasize about you
I spend most of my time trying to figure out how we fit together
But does that truly qualify as love?
I'm confused.
How can I know if what you're giving me is real love or fictional?
You were never one to go by the books
Yet you count every minute we're together,
like we're one of those post-junkie couples on Facebook,
who just have to share what we're doing every two seconds of each day.
Does that even qualify as love?
The media describe it as something that you just fall into
But I'm sure that I'm falling, tumbling and face-planting in the bad way
You're not a prince and this isn't a scenario where we're gonna live happily ever after. So why are we fooling ourselves and following the status quo?
Why does being with you confuse me so much?
**** I wish I had all the answers.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 1:43 PM UTC
Please don't search my skin every morning and night
As if I'm one of your art pieces that isn't quite right
You'll stare at your drawings for hours wondering what you need to change
You erase all the wrong lines till you've painted over them
In order to perfect your piece
My skin is not your canvas
You cannot erase the marks I have made
I'm not a piece to be speculated by an artist
Who never deems any of her pieces worthy.
If you like I can frame myself for you
And tuck myself away in the dusty crevice of your room
A graveyard for all your unfinished pieces;
The ones that even you could not fix
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 1:25 PM UTC
When there is more
Sincerity
And honesty
In kisses at the airport
Than in wedding halls
C'est la vie
When poison
Smells like roses
And the poor
Drink it like wine
Seeing no other way out
C'est la vie
When humans hunt humans
And I'm not talking witches in the dark ages
But folk that have taken alternate
Life choices
In the 21st century
C'est la vie
When this world is not
What your heart expected
Rolling from the top
Plummeting
Into an abyss
Of old memories
When you were young
And simple things meant the world
C'est la vie
When promises are broken
And the tide gets too high
C'est la vie
When your heart sinks
And all the people you love
Can't see through your lies
Surrounded by millions
Somehow your still on your own
C'est la vie
Then you learn
That you will always keep rolling
Breathe and go through the motions
Life it keeps happening
Without permission
But your brain might be on pause
C'est la vie
You entered this world crying
And will leave to the sound of cries
C'est la vie
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 1:12 PM UTC
*I don't know what I expected
but it wasn't this
I never thought we would ever
be awkward
uncomfortable silences
forced smiles
a sickening politeness
when we're both dying inside
just say something
tell me once
stop me
and I'll turn around
I'm not that strong
if only you knew
my weakness was you
that day
a stubborn pride got in our way
too proud to be the first to submit
first to let go or forgive
but I was begging you inside
inside I was broken
inside I wept*
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 1:10 PM UTC
I want to make you fit
In my poems
With perfect rhymes
Short and sweet
But there's nothing poetic about
Haunted eyes
That pierce the soul
Cold and calculating
I could tell
They had seen things
Not meant to be seen
I know I was there
I remember it all too well
So tell me about your past
And I'll tell you about my scars
We'll tell each-other like the future is ours
And make poetry out of silence
Atmospheres that can't be explained
A comfortable presence
That does not need to be over-complicated with words
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 1:08 PM UTC
I was sitting at the computer
trying to think of a way
to describe a woman's
*** as anything other
than a woman's ***
and there were
marlboro black
cigarettes on my
creaking desk
and I had a fifth
of whiskey on the
windowsill and
I rubbed my forehead
and thought of fruits--
apples and oranges--
no, no that's overdone
and I thought of animals--
elephants and horses--
but, again, no, I'd
come across as one of
those sick ******** that
go to the zoo in
stained trench coats
and rub themselves against
the chain link
and Eve would walk in
beautiful girl with short
hair and a sharp mind
she'd ask what I was
writing about and
I'd say women
but the women were
never her, she pointed out
and I'd say I don't want to
jinx this, what we have,
you know? and she'd say okay,
okay
I'd get lit up every evening and
I'd text other women
I'd tell them about the shapes
of their ***** and the sizes
of their brains and they'd
usually say uh huh yeah
but I was fishing, always
fishing for that compliment
that sliver of hope, that
unsatisfied wife
when you're trying to be
Bukowski you'll throw
yourself under the bus
again
and
again
for what?
a story, trivial and base,
and that good woman,
that best woman, that Eve,
one day while making breakfast
she'll say to the eggs in the skillet
I can't take this **** anymore
and you'll say so don't
and she'll say fine
and she'll walk out the front door
wearing your t-shirt
you'll feel free for a week
and alone for two years.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 12:28 PM UTC
Sometimes there comes a time
When losses are absorbed
And grief becomes you
When you've given everything you've got
And there's nothing left
Not even the will to care
When you received nothing in return
You continued to give because you never learn
And when you rub your eyes
No more are the stars and colours you used to see
It's been a long time since
You bowed your head
Said a prayer
And are still weathering the storm
Now only heavier
Because you've soaked up the rain
And carried a little piece of everyone's secrets
Burdens and shames
You were there when it all went wrong
And now you're barefoot
On a cold winters night
Where the lines between determination
And desperation got blurred
Left craving for something that is everything to hold onto
You are so much more than what other people see
Your strength will not come from lifting weights
But lifting yourself as you fall down
Fighting hell
And wearing it like an armour
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
What the hell am I doing here?
What the hell am I STILL doing here?
It feels like a dream.
Walking
Talking
Laughing without a second thought
Socializing
None of it feels real.
What happens when reality feels like a dream?
What happens when you're just dying to wake up?
I don't know how to deal with this never-ending pit of monotony!
I want to wake up
I want to find the place I belong
I want to find the goals I hope to achieve
I want to stop living in a blanket of obliviousness and nothingness
I want to live...
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 12:17 PM UTC
These things happen I suppose.
They always happen.
I used to care about something, you know.
I did.
I used to feel something when I stared at the sky.
Now the hardwood feels cold under my feet,
and my lungs have lost their warmth.
The clouds eat me whole as I walk home.
They smile.
Sometimes I do too.
But I've wandered too far this time,
these steps don't look familiar.
Someone still sleeps inside this house,
but it's not me.
Someone still lives inside these bones,
but it's not me.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 12:08 PM UTC