I used to live for those mornings
when you wake up
and have to catch your breath
because you've been dreaming about someone all night.
It's been so long since I've felt this.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 12:09 AM UTC
And you lost it. It wasn't your fault; you didn't do anything wrong, but it's gone. It's almost harder that way because you had no control - no say in the matter. You had to just sit there and watch the sand slip through your fingers.
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 5:22 PM UTC
Have you seen the view
from the other side of the mirror?
I have.
I can see your beauty.
I can read those lips.
Have you seen what I see?
Have you seen what takes my breath away?
There are hours lost in those eyes.
There are things you will never see
from your side of the mirror.
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 5:18 PM UTC
I wonder what you tell your friends about me
if you tell your friends about me.
I wonder what it would be like to meet your parents
to shake your fathers hand and give your mother that awkward hug.
I wonder if we would make it.
If the paradox of meeting an amazing person at a terrible time
would gouge a hole in the feelings that have kept us afloat lately.
If only, if only...
If only I had met you before
I could have changed your mind; made you stay.
If only I had met you after
we could have experienced youth uninterrupted
Instead we struggle.
At least, I struggle
and I selfishly like to think that you do too.
Only because I want these feelings to be reciprocated.
What could have been.
What may still be.
I wonder.
Will it last?
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 5:15 PM UTC
Wait, go back
Go back!
It's not over yet!
It didn't end like this.
I know it. I know it.
I know this story,
I've read these lines.
Next you're supposed to say
" "
Or some other witty, beautiful words
that drown me in my guilt.
And I'll just stutter and stammer
and trip over my words like
that time in May
when you tripped on that root
on our hike in New Hampshire.
I hand you a lollipop.
What the **** Why
would I hand her a lollipop?
I hand you a bleeding heart
and you examine it.
You **** it.
You write your name on it and
carefully - HAH! - horrendously you force it down my throat.
Swallow.
But after all of this,
I still know that in this twisted
ass-backwards, convoluted world
I am still head over heels for you.
I'm still the same, perfectly sane, guy you knew before.
Ribbit.
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 11:42 AM UTC
God closed his eyes that night,
but I don't blame him.
Even God needs to sleep sometimes.
At just seventeen,
Timmy never saw the truck that killed him.
Never saw the blood and ***** on the asphalt.
God closed his eyes that night,
but nobody blames him.
Even God needs to sleep sometimes.
A little girl was taken that night.
Beaten and *****
Innocence stolen and beauty forgotten.
God closed his eyes that night,
but her parents don't blame him.
Even God needs to sleep sometimes.
Even God needs to sleep sometimes.
Aug 31, 2012
Aug 31, 2012 at 12:20 PM UTC
Why is it that I enjoy words of
pain, sorrow, and fear?
Why do I surround myself
with the things I am trying to escape?
I tell myself not to continue,
that if I surround myself
with beauty and hope
these things will come to me.
And yet I continue.
Maybe if I see the most horrific
then the bad won't seem
all that bad in comparison.
Aug 31, 2012
Aug 31, 2012 at 12:06 PM UTC
It's like this:
I'm supposed to love you,
To cherish you,
To keep you in my heart through
All that is bad
And all that is unfathomable alone.
But where are you?
What has happened to you?
I see you. I can touch you,
Smell you, hear you
But I can't feel you.
You are gone.
When you come back
I will be here
With open arms
And open eyes.
But I can't chase you.
Not anymore.
Aug 30, 2012
Aug 30, 2012 at 6:01 PM UTC
I'm waiting for father to thank me
I did what he asked.
I'm waiting for him to tell me
what a good job I've done
what a good boy I am.
I'm waiting for father to sweep down
with open arms
and scoop me from my feet.
To laugh with me as he picks me up
high above his head.
I'm waiting for father to look at me
with the same eyes that he has
for the glass in his hand
and the amber liquid
that fills the hollowness of it's invisible walls.
Jun 17, 2012
Jun 17, 2012 at 3:14 AM UTC
The paradox of timelessness and love
which haunts us with a sense of urgency.
It beats with more viscosity than my blood.
It fills my lungs more than oxygen ever could.
Jun 16, 2012
Jun 16, 2012 at 11:15 PM UTC