I can still feel your lips on mine
Your vibrations still linger
Even though you said good night
And went home
I’m counting down the days
Until I get to see your face
And feel your lips on mine again
Jul 8, 2022
Jul 8, 2022 at 10:34 PM UTC
I should’ve kissed you when I should’ve kissed you
I missed my chance for good
If I just would’ve let myself be happy
And not listened to her
Maybe we could’ve been
Feb 5, 2022
Feb 5, 2022 at 6:57 PM UTC
If my hands could tell a story, they'd say how your spine always looked beautiful in the morning,
when the sun's rays created shadows that danced along your back and flirted with your neck
like they'd never meet again.
They'd say how your lips always curved upwards as if they were saying hello.
If my hands could tell a fairytale, there'd be no happy ending,
there'd be no end at all.
I wish my lips could finally part to say the right things,
because all I want to do is hear your name roll off my tongue,
in the same sentence as "you're mine".
I want them to tell the story of your lips,
red, and taunting and always mysterious.
I always got a toothache when you weren't in the room.
I think I need a root canal.
If my knees could speak they'd tell you how lovely it was
to bend to curl to your legs.
If my knees could tell a story, they'd describe the cold, hard
bitter kiss of death they shared with the pavement so many times
when I found your bags at the door.
If my knees could beg, they'd ask for forgiveness.
For being too bony, too weak,
for not being able to support your dreams.
(I'd give up anything now for that little apartment in New York
and nothing but two typewriters)
If my fingers had a chance, they'd trace the familiar lines of your collarbones
and over your shoulders, because by now they've committed them to memory.
If my fingers had a chance, they'd hold yours again.
They say to stay away from broken people but I saw you as a puzzle
just waiting for someone to put you back together again.
If my eyes could tell a story they would whisper softly of your flowing hair
and pixie-like body.
They would ask you to stay.
They would jump out of my body to give you a glimpse of how I see you.
They would show you how utterly unprecedented you are.
If I believed in heaven I would tell you that you're a miracle.
That you are something I wished upon for years as a child.
You are a star.
You are a supernova.
You are a black hole, ******* me in and twisting me about until I am nothing
but battered limbs and my broken heart.
You are God with the Devil's kiss.
If my lips could move they'd say "stay".
You were mine.
Jun 14, 2020
Jun 14, 2020 at 9:08 PM UTC
i keep asking what happened to us
but the truth is
there was never an us
just me
and just you
sometimes in the same room
May 7, 2020
May 7, 2020 at 11:38 PM UTC
i am so sick and tired of the cancer game, that is merely what it is; a game. this game is four quarters long (on the other hand we could say it was four years). you watch from the bench as your team and cancer each score goals, each winning at different times in the game. but cancer is strong and a hell of a lot better at fighting. you sit on the bench, kicking and screaming, as you watch cancer tear your team to shreds. cancer doesn’t give up.
1st quarter; your team is winning, but still unable to walk without a walker.
2nd quarter; cancer is kicking *** and you keep begging to be put in, you want to help fight; it’s not your turn yet. cancer is winning.
3rd quarter is a race against time, the teams are tied, but you know what is going to happen, but no one wants to say it; you’ve already lost the game.
4th quarter; the game might as well be over. everyone has stopped cheering. they’ve lost all hope, but you continue to scream because you won’t be able to come back from this season.
10 minutes left; 3 months. the team has pretty much stopped playing; treatment is stopped. you still think your team will win, because they’ve pulled through before, right?
5 minutes left; 1 month. you hold tight to your team, you cannot stop holding tight. you know the ending, but no one will say it, still. you cherish every blank stare and gibberish speech. you take in exactly how she says your name and the way she holds her spoon. the game is coming to an end.
10 seconds left; 1 week. it’s getting harder, the field is dark and slippery, you cannot see what is right in front of you.
5 seconds left; 3 days. you hold your teammate as she sobs on the bench. you make do.
3 seconds left; 2 days. a time where you should be celebrating. you continue to look deeper within for some sort of answer from God, but you’re so full of doubt and despair that you cannot seem to find Him within the mess.
1 second left; 1 day. you call your mom to tell her about the game and how you cannot see a thing, but she is watching closer than you. you ask how the player is doing and she tells you it’s almost over. you find yourself praying for the end to come sooner, now maybe; but you can’t seem to imagine life without the game.
0 seconds left; the end. you stop, but the world around you keeps going. you’re broken inside, but you can barely keep it hidden. you walk out with a smile, that everyone can see through. you’re not going to be okay for a while. your nonni, she’s gone.
you go to the recognition ceremony and hold your cousin’s hand while others talk about the greatest player of all time, but you cannot seem to find the strength inside you to stand up and share how you found God again and how your nonni is to thank, because oh how awful it sounds to thank someone for having cancer and breaking you. you cling to your seat for days, wishing that things would change, but they don’t
you will have more seasons; better ones and worse ones too, you will get through them too.
Dec 19, 2019
Dec 19, 2019 at 4:49 PM UTC
men always compare me to intoxicating
substances
once i was ******* because i made him
feel high the instance he met me and he
seemed to forget all the pain
another time i was a top shelf label
whiskey, made him feel so good whenever
he needed it and boy did he need it
the good kush, he said, "because you
make me feel relaxed"
once i was compared to shrooms.
i made him see the world differently like we were
in a different dimension
and in the end, they all decided to get
clean
Nov 17, 2019
Nov 17, 2019 at 8:57 PM UTC
hello there,
it’s 9:42 pm on august 5 2019
i’m writing this to tell you a few things
1. i’m lost. I don’t belong in or belong to ythis world. nor do I belong to anyone or anything. I am a lost soul. an immortal soul.
2. I will never stop. I will never stop caring, writing, loving, feeling, living, existing.
3. a lot of books have words. a lot of paintings hav4e paint. a lot of schools have students. a lot of boys have eyes, but none like yours.
4. time is a concept. 3 months from now is tomorrow. reality is a perception. you meant every word you said.
5. I don’t know who this is for, probably you.
I hope we cross paths again.
thank you.
love alwayss,
AS
Oct 7, 2019
Oct 7, 2019 at 8:16 PM UTC
I hope you find peace
in this life
in knowing that you are whole
even if you are broken
you are still a whole person
I hope you find peace
in words
beautifully written words
especially the words I said to you
I hope you find love
and I hope you let yourself
receive the love you deserve
not the lack of love you think you deserve
I hope you find me
again, someday soon
when we’re both ready
and willing to fall in deeply
because I know in my heart
you will find your way back eventually
Aug 5, 2019
Aug 5, 2019 at 8:37 PM UTC