he has two faces:
one faces me and the other faces the mirror
wrapped in a veneer of soft skin
across a chasm of buried memory and the pacific ocean
that i cannot yet traverse
hidden behind a veil of broken glass
transparent enough to let some light in yet opaque at the same time
the shards pierce my fingers
blood spills in the absence of control
and freezes with
a knowing distance that dances around the wrath of time
how do i cross the breach?
i wait
for the turn of time
for the unleashing of emotion
for the healing that must happen
then and only then can i pour the resinized love i have into the cracks
and have it solidify into something permanent
Dec 14, 2020
Dec 14, 2020 at 4:32 AM UTC
in loving you, every memory that i have of myself has dissolved into nothingness
coffee in the morning is no longer sufficient why
has my head become a globe that can barely balance on its tiny pedestals?
in my solipsistic dreams somehow i can see your silhouette
even in the solace of my slumber you still manage to penetrate my inner most and intimate thoughts
like a shadow
that strays from the light
particles that amass and then leave again
the daisy to my gatsby-esque ideals of romance and hope
shaky visuals brought on by a familiar melody that conjures a memory that has given me stockholm syndrome
you are the captor but i
i am a willing victim
if hannibal lecter could dine on his friends, you can have me as dessert
and it wouldn't matter, for my life
has till this moment, been devoid of the one thing everybody seeks
love, in all its permutations and essence.
Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 1:31 AM UTC
you laughed. laughed heartily while we were at your garage getting drunk on happiness. at some point I picked your gasoline up and I began to douse myself with it.
your hands didn't stop me at first. in fact you were amazed that I was even doing that in the first place. after twenty minutes you had a Zippo in your hand and you set me aflame.
I revelled in your fire. I relished it like no other.
after a while you got bored of me. seeing the same old flame burn was way too monotonous for you
yet you said nothing and just watched while I continued pouring your gasoline on my bodice.
I realised that you had stopped lighting me.
I asked why.
there was no reply, only, "I am not worthy of you." in quiet hushed tones.
I missed your fire.
I grabbed your Zippo and set myself alight, but again you only watched and it did not feel the same.
there was no warmth in self-inflicted burns, and your eyes seemed to wander.
here i am, cinders of that one time, and still I wish you would set me alight again.
-x.o.
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 11:10 PM UTC
you have started a fire in me that will never die, but even as I feel it singe my insides, I take it as a reminder of your presence in my life, and I cherish it.
you can set me ablaze with just your eyes; on some days I am a forest fire and others, cinders by your fireplace
people say gravity holds you down, and for me, you are my gravity
sometimes I feel like outer space, vastly unexplored and misunderstood but when you came into my life I became an open book.
you made me feel like I belong.
I was uncharted territory but now I'm on your maps and frankly it has never felt so good to be found.
you are fire and death, gravity and the stars, and despite this, I still love you.
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 7:35 AM UTC
stop all the clocks
i am sick of hearing every tick-tock, chime or screech of a rooster.
stop all the clocks
a piercing scream and a shot in the dark
dead bodies found
no need to remind me of how fragile life is
I spend most of my time craving death
it's a lot like craving your lips but not having them
52 weeks in a year
every time you celebrate your birthday is one more year gone
abyss, swallowing up your existence
evanescent, just like him
every minute passing is a minute inching closer to death
some say death is ascending to heaven but how would you know heaven is paradise?
how would you know that god isn't the devil divided and heaven isn't really a sugar coated hell?
time is but a shadow, shrouding us, controlling us
stop all the clocks, I implore you
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 5:35 AM UTC
i haven't written in forever, and it's not because I don't remember how, but because it pains me to think of you.
you - a spoke on my wheel of life, threatening to break on some days and permanently attached on other days
you - a fire burning, relying on the splinters you tear off from my love
you - evanescent, quaking, waiting for me to change pace
you - a pair of goggles sinking to the bottom of a pool because you are passing out of sight
you - that empty medicine cabinet I open at midnight to find that I've finished every last anti-depressant and the only thing left is my sadness staring me in the face.
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 9:23 PM UTC
the lights are too bright because my eyes are strained from crying into pillows for hours at a time. i do not know if you knew why the door never slams when i'm around but it's because my father taught me to respect everyone, even if they did you wrong. i'm on the losing end for my emotions are spilling out of me and yet i do not have a platform to express them. i may have words, marks on paper that are a means of communication but the words you used against me hurt so much. i wish every night i spent with you wasn't mellow and full of *** for i would kiss you for hours and act as a warm home for all your troubles but i couldn't do that because all you wanted was *** *** *** and the pleasure that you got from it drove you madder each time. do you remember when you came home and ****** me, you whispered her name into my ears in between whiskey breaths? i didn't forget and you were too drunk to remember anything but you went back to see her anyway. her name was on your tongue like a back alley piercing and yet you chose to let yourself be trapped in her stone cold arms. while i wait till four in the morning with a safe haven and a warm home, she drew the hallelujah from you, and when you came back, i did not know who you were.
-x.o.
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 6:19 AM UTC
Every so often, you get your heart broken. It's a punch to the stomach, a kick to the knees, a stab in the chest.
Sometimes, you meet this person again. Of course you long to be able to look into their eyes and melt into them like you always have. To lie in their arms would be a heaven almost unimaginable because of the current circumstances, yet you desire it. But has anyone considered the actual feeling of stealing small, secretive, loving, glances at them?
It's looking through a sea of asphyxiation - obviously you are deprived of oxygen underwater - and not being able to reach for them. You are the lone diver, and they are the sinking rocks headed for the ocean's abyss. It's disconcerting, painful and uncomfortable.
You're crying. Why are you crying? Oh. It hurts. Obvious. You are shaking so much you thought you would die young. You have your whole funeral planned in your head. Organs play in the background to honor your demise. The tears flow from your face, leaving hot, burning trails as they did, but the pain of it cannot compare to the one in the pit of your stomach. You wonder when the pain will stop. Wondering alone does not help it.
What you would give to stare into their ocean eyes, play with their hair, crush your lips into theirs.
If only falling out of love were as easy as falling into it.
(seastarred)
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 10:12 AM UTC
With each replay of a long, mellow song to drown out my sorry soul as I wallow in self pity and shout at the walls, I find that the volume increases inevitably as I struggle to engulf my senses long enough to transcend into a state of unknowing.
People say, "Ignorance is bliss." and sometimes they are right. Believing a lie, delusion or honey-coated words helps keep many sane and it shields them from pain, but for how long?
Once these people do see the light, they feel an embodiment of pain far, far worse from what they'd thought because they have grown accustomed to what has been and not what is.
Often am I lost, creating new worlds and being the maker of places I cannot physically enjoy and can only dream just to satiate my mind and to prevent it from madness for now.
I am trapped between surrealism and reality. I cannot emphasize how much it hurts to enjoy yourself in a perfect world where everything seems to go right, and then be hurled back into the dark recesses of reality. I'm disoriented from the ride, and I honestly want to break down.
You are nothing but what you had and what you lost.
(seastarred)
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 6:45 AM UTC
Happiness. A 9-letter word. How does one begin to describe the emotion they’ve never really got to know, amongst other things like hurt, confusion and utter heartbreak?
It was by the smile lines on her face, the way her skin glowed and reflected sunbeams when she took the perfect photo of a beautiful landscape.
When she doesn’t have any recollection of her half-burnt, tear-stained journals that still had residue from her last overdose.
When she forgot about how she took a blade to her fragile skin to carve your name into them, and then weep about your leaving afterwards.
She writes about optimism and love again, because she is over everything that had ever ruined her life.
She takes her dog for walks in the park, and notices how every flap of a butterfly going through the air from one flower to another seemed to coincide with the beats of her heart, which beat more consistently and powerfully than ever before.
She notices all the little details she missed before, like how lines of dust moved whenever certain objects were misplaced, or the morning calls of the birds in her neighbor’s bird bath.
She is so much more euphoric than before, so don’t break her again.
(seastarred)
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 11:03 AM UTC