I still think of you some times,
why these wounds have yet to dry
What else could closure be
besides an endless loop of agony
because that's all we've proven to be
passionate toxic ecstacy
that will leave us shrivelled and worn
like a ****** on the side of the road
What a sad sight, they would say
watching us writhe in pain
and when we awoke from
whatever nightmare we acquired
we would try to explain
just how this couldn't stay the same
We would exclaim
that this is the last day
I loved you dearly
And I can only hope my emotions
are not misplaced
and I hope that one day
I will see you again.
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 8:07 PM UTC
the winds swept me towards the great birch kingdom,
where thousands of kings and queens pirched gloriously upon their timber thrones
before the crackle of a twig snapped by my toe swept them away.
not long until I found myself upon a mountain, in a cave, where I began to whisper gently to the void
and listened back for days as my voice stayed.
when my finger touched still water I watched the ripples dance for years
until all of the oceans were dancing
and they danced their way into the night's sky.
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 6:27 PM UTC
tonight the music is the same; no glitter or fuss, just an excuse to forget.
it's a February blizzard which is the coldest kind
and we'll stand outside, smog-laced snowflakes caress our faces and I'm standing three feet from your body
but I'm warm because I feel close...
or maybe it's the rye.
I've been clutching this bottle more so lately, it's been holding on to me
to the point where I can't see
but that's a trite story, except for the February blizzard,
but even so… it's snow, it's cold.
it's biting, frosty, white blanket kind of cold.
it's a dampness inside of your bones kind of cold.
it's red-nosed winter blues, thirty below with a leather coat, and I'm warm because I forget.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 10:05 AM UTC
I was eight and in math class
and I wrote your name over and over again in my little green notepad hoping that you’d notice or that you’d feel the pressure of my pen tracing your name over and over again.
at the end of class the teacher asked me to walk up grab some chalk and long divide
but I hadn’t a clue and no where to hide so I tried, with minimal effort, to sketch some numbers on the board, curling my 2 and crossing my 7 so that you’d notice me.
I looked at you and your chubby face looked back at mine
and I loved you for a long time, then.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 9:57 AM UTC
everyone's got a little to say about nothing,
nothing at all.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 4:18 PM UTC
even lying next to him, it was never about him… somehow it was always you. it's only you.
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 1:18 PM UTC
sometimes I can feel the earth's heart beating with mine - her heat often boiling my core. a burdensome blessing to bleed when others fall.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 4:37 PM UTC
I thought you'd write about the other night
and you'd turn it into some beautiful dream so that our memories could start to seem a little more pure…
as pure as the moonlight pouring over our bodies,
as pure as your breath on my neck.
sometimes I wish I couldn't sleep at night,
so I'd be a little more like you, my heart would be a bit more blue and my love, a bit more pure…
but for some bitter-sweet reason I sleep peacefully until dawn, and I rise with a smile, awake with a yawn. our intertwined arms unfortunately fading, and it's heart-breaking, but my heart is stronger now, and colder, like a stone;
so I guess now I'm a little like you.
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 5:06 PM UTC
new is now old,
my fingers are cold and shaking yet I still grasp at what once was.
it's hard to remember you.
fog-headed, I'll close my eyes to try to see
a piece of the past with clarity
like when your heart would beat for me.
like silence, only the sound of our lips
and the backs of my eyelids painting works of art.
like when your breath would whisper my name
and fill the room with ecstasy.
now only one appendage is flooded for me,
and I only feel you angrily
penetrating with resentment
and a fantasy I can not conceive.
but one day we had love, made love; and this is one memory
that above all else I'll choose to carry
in the hopes that it will re-emerge from the hole that it's been ****** into.
though I'm black and blue,
I won't give up on you
but good lord, I feel like I'm dying...
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 8:50 PM UTC
they mumble -
stifled laughs from the room next door,
but they aren't really happy the way that we are
because her heart doesn't bleed when he isn't by her side
and she kissed another man last night,
not I;
my lips have been yours for 113 days...
and I couldn't count all of the ways I smile
simply from your presence;
there is a bashfulness about myself when you enter the room
and a sigh of relief as we close our eyes together
at the end of a long day,
and it's all teeth from ear to ear, I swear,
when we're together.
/
but lying in bed tonight I don't feel the comfort of you by my side,
rather a weight, extreme pressure as if I'm being pushed...
these words swim through each vessel in my brain before pacing upon my tongue,
all night they pace, as my chest becomes tighter and your touch becomes colder...
when my eyes finally rest I dream of elephants on stilts;
that is my problems which should not grow evidently finding somehow to,
and a mockingbird sobbing, but how do I know that the tears are true?
I once, not long ago at all, longed for the touch that is making me ill,
for the laughter that is turning me bitter,
for the eyes that are making me weep...
no, it is not your mouth that makes me weep, not the hateful language, nor hurtful accusations;
rather, it's how you must see me to allow those notions cross your mind let alone to speak them aloud,
and with such fury...
/
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 3:08 PM UTC