i would say that I'm happy to have you,
so you can hold me when I'm lost in the dark,
but the truth is,
there is no more darkness,
since I've been with you.
i guess you were the light i was waiting for
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 12:52 AM UTC
I can't seem to shake this little quiver
where my heart aches
that leaves me with doubts
and no faith,
I don't wanna believe
this is all another mistake
but this tiny little voice says
it's all fake.
It's in the back of mind,
I think of all the other times,
it scares me
cause I want you as mine.
Everyday that you say you love me,
the voice gets a little quieter
and every time you say I'm beautiful,
my eyes get a little brighter
and every time I hear your voice,
the weight on my shoulders
gets a little lighter.
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 12:49 AM UTC
your soul hums a very soft, quiet tune. It laces up my ribs, into my heart, making it impossible to forget your gentle song.
my soul sings loud and bright, all the while yearning for you.
how I was lucky enough to hear your song I know not.
but oh how I will never forget it.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 2:43 PM UTC
Distract me from missing him
Because I'm missing the home
I made on his lips
And in his eyes
I'm missing how safe I felt
Wrapped up in his voice
Getting lost between his skin
Felt as if I was floating on a golden cloud
Oh I felt so wowed
And even silencing my thoughts
Went so smoothly for him
That I almost wondered if he was my Castiel
If we were ever meant to be..
If he was my Eric,and I was his Ariel
And if we could live beyond the sea.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 1:36 AM UTC
and here i am again
at the intersection
of pedestrian language
& old wives tales
swallowing gum
like 7 year memories
opening umbrellas inside
cause i can't seem get away
from all of this rain
i ********** with my left hand
cause i was told
back in highschool that
"it feels like someone else is doing it"
it gets me wondering
about the difference between
losing you and finding out
that some one else found you
or my sleep
or lack thereof
its starting to tear me apart
i keep having this dream
where you are in
an unfamiliar body of water
trying to wash my poetry
off of your hands
or the one where
something happens in my chest
every time you sit
on someone else's bed
i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced
but don't have the heart
to look for anymore
tired of you saying my name
like you're trying to bury it
i'm tired of wondering
if you can tell the difference
between the absence
of my voice & silence
the other day
i almost started sobbing
at work when a woman
asked me about
our equipment
i was explaining how
things come apart
and almost mentioned your name
it made me think
of how you used to say
things like "what would you do
if i showed up on your doorstep
one day?" now, i haunt
the windows in my house
i don't leave for weeks at a time
i sit on the porch like the dog
you didn't shoot behind the shed
the one that refuses to die
until you come home again
i told somebody once, that
you didn't even know
what my voicemail sounded like
i wonder if they thought
it was because you
are so important that i never
let it ring that many times
before picking up
or if you dont know
what it sounds like
because you've never called
you can't be the ****** weapon
and the search party
i'm tired of all the seats
to the ferris wheel in my chest
being empty
tired of your voice
being the one i look for
in abandoned places
that one sound i beg
to bounce back
down vacant hallways
i just seem to stand there
in all of that quiet
like someone looking for a mistake
on an eviction notice
so i guess the hardest part
isn't letting go
it's forgetting
you ever had a grip
in the first place
and since you've been gone
i wonder if when
you pushed yourself away from me
you used your left hand
so it felt like someone else did it
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 9:16 PM UTC
she was leaving
and got the gumption
to see me before she did
so we went to dinner
she sat, crumpled
at the edge of the booth
playing with her silverware
hands sweating
our knees barely touching
underneath the table
they shook like the day we met
they shook like floodgates
when the clouds get upset
her hair was drawn back
into an apology
and she didn't answer
when the waiter asked for drinks
she pans, tilts
looking for the restroom
but doesn't get up
covers her mouth
to hide her furled chin
i cut her a piece of bread
not sparingly
i didn't want to ruin the symbolism
of cutting a gangrenous thing
from ones self
she half wept out "tell me a joke"
i thought to say "look at us."
that's it. that's the joke.
the premise & the punch line
sharing some silence
here in this ominous moment
so thick with goodbye
you could touch it
i said "when they asked what the name was for the wait, i should've said "awkward, party of 2"
but that's not the joke
"knock knock"
she whispered "who's there?"
i sat for a moment and said
"so we've come full circle.. we're even in the same seats, from all those months ago"
her lips quivered
and she hid her mouth
"i just wanted to hear a joke"
she said
i came back with
"if i fell for you in a quiet restaurant & no one was around to hear it, does the laughter of children i drempt we'd have make a sound?"
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 9:14 PM UTC
When I asked you to fix me,
You told me I wasn't broken.
But, let this soak in.
I just wanted to know,
If i was still a pretty enough picture to be worth, agonizing over a puzzle.
Even when it's a struggle.
And you have to nuzzle each piece into place,
Kissing the pieces bent out of shape,
Searching for pieces gone missing,
But you can't make a raisin back into a grape.
Yes, I Remember your middle name
And who says we can't celebrate failure?
Don't be sad, we tried, we tried.
When you write your story in the sand it washes away with the tide.
It isn't our fault.
We may have cut ourselves open, But we didn't ask for the salt in our
wounds
Can I still say "we"?
I guess you're kind of done with me.
I don't blame you, Puzzles are frustrating.
they're a tease.
Please, tell me I haven't lost the most important piece.
Tell me I haven't lost
you.
© copyrighted Nicole Ann Osborn
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 9:08 PM UTC
Writing about him
Is an addiction
That I convince myself
Is in remission,
But my heart knowingly
Sees through the deception.
Writing about him
Is an undying compulsion,
Just like loving him is.
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 9:03 PM UTC