That you and I might be quite similar
That we might be attracted to the same things
And I am not attracted
To myself
Feb 17
Feb 17, 2026 at 12:44 AM UTC
She walks in
Passing through the kitchen
She grabs a glass and the bottle of wine
She sits down at the table
The white walls reflect the light bouncing in from outside
It shows off the people walking in pairs
This was getting old
She lifts the glass toward her mouth
Pausing, she reels it back and throws it at the opposite wall
The merlot runs down the wall
And the glass sparkles through the air
She stands up and pulls herself into the shower
She stands under the water for awhile
Then without drying herself
Falls into bed
Sep 24, 2019
Sep 24, 2019 at 8:21 AM UTC
Sitting on a bus making a list
Of all the pretty words I know,
Highlights the hollow feeling
Like bells ringing without purpose
Ceremony for the sake of itself
Not like you
Not like funerals and graduations
Formality to induce respect,
Creating the environment for great emotion
The ability to change heartbeats
Bringing pride where there was
Unsteady satisfaction
The power of words together
Of language
You are my language
Not all that I speak or know
A culmination of my creativity
The end product of pretty vowels
Strung together to make
Abstract constructs
The idea that I can be somebody
Because someone has the faith that I can
You create the environment
For powerful emotion
For the torrent of pride and satisfaction
For the validation of my fears
For the seed of hope within my dreams
You are the comfort
When the day consists of
Dusk and dawn
Without the beauty of the sunrise
You are the reasoning
Behind jumping head first
Into waves of fire
Because you knew I could,
So I know I can
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 8:12 PM UTC
The side profile of a four-poster bed
Was supposed to be the image of luxury
Not the decadent tomb of my comfort
The sanctuary of solitude and rest
Broken by the presence of you and your four limbs
Awaiting the sleep
Shadows in the dark take on greater forms
And the light shed from the doorway behind your skin
Brings no clarity as you lumber closer
Blocking out the hope of dying lights
With a crack
The weight of your head brings you down
Crashing into metallic springs and I am lifted
In that moment
On the thought that maybe
You have lost your consciousness
Perhaps only your conscience
As your hands slither over the flesh of my
Sanctuary
Routine, my arms lash
Your palms in forceful contact with my forearms
Growing, as you rise to bear over me
My sanctuary shrinking, tight
I relax you say, in pleasure
In subservience
In submission and hopelessness
As I retreat behind my eyes, I rely on my one freedom
To move within the corners of my mind
If not the four corners of this bed
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 8:15 AM UTC
From way on up above,
On the edges of your grove.
If I stand, right here.
I can watch from afar,
Seeing your effervescence
Falter.
When doors are left ajar.
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 10:51 PM UTC
I am not a charity case.
I will not be liked or loved
Because I am so weak.
So weak, that I make you,
The martyr who bears me,
Feel strong. That I give you purpose.
I refuse, to let my table be supported
By you and your makeshift table leg.
If anything, I pride myself as an individual.
I am strong.
I am independent.
My happiness, not unlike
The spinning center of a gyroscope,
Is existent entirely independent
Of your influence.
I don't need you.
I want you.
I want you because you are kind.
You are genuine, you understand.
I want you because you are comforting,
You give me that which no other can.
I wouldn't want you,
If the motives for what you do,
Were different than what I'd hoped.
Altogether disillusioned.
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 10:48 PM UTC
Heaven whispers peace in my
Ears, it rings so
Loudly, so all encompassing, too
Long has it been since its toll.
Ice freezes balefully on the borders,
Smooth lines drawn on the edge.
Careful grace,
Omits and voids any fears, any
Malicious shadows of a doubt.
I walk among these clouds,
Not seeing that it is all
Going so well.
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 10:47 PM UTC
Sometimes I send really long messages
Sometimes I ramble on until I've reached a character cap
Sometimes I hope you'll forgive my enthusiasm
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 9:20 PM UTC
Who do you think I live for
I hope you are not misguided, my love
to believe that I live for anyone but myself
that any show of joy or act of love I give you
I give for myself, not you
that I choose to be here
I hope you are not misguided, my love
to believe that I subscribe to anything
other than the pursuit of my own happiness
and that direction will change as I change
I hope you are not misguided, my love
to believe that I am imprisoned here with you
that there exists a promise beyond myself
that I will stay with you till the end of time
I am not but flesh and sinew, fragile bone
my hour is limited
I am no god to sign myself away
And I'll keep this soft shell of flesh
but as for time, I plan to give you mine
I hope you are not misguided, my love
to believe that my independence
will lead me to exist without you,
a stubborn persistence toward satisfaction
would lead me to your doorstep
time and time again
I hope you are not misguided, my love
to believe I have not considered a world without you
a world without my commitment to grow with you
a world without your kindness
for I have, thoroughly
I hope you are not misguided, my love
to believe I hold anything but gratitude for you
that the light in my eyes is not clearer because of your influence
that my heart is not lighter and fuller
that my days are not brighter and longer
I hope you are not misguided, my love
to believe that I would ever hesitate to say
I do
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 10:38 PM UTC
Sometimes I wish you could just be real,
When really, it has always been my responsibility
To see you.
Sometimes I just want,
And want, it's uncomfortable
And that's okay.
It's okay to be uncomfortable
To notice that there's more to me,
That there's more to do,
Work to be done.
Sometimes you tell me phrases,
And I reject them,
Throw them deep into your throat.
I'd rather that they burn
Than for them to reach my ears,
That I be responsible for your happiness.
For that, I'm sorry
Sometimes I couldn't see,
Past the haze of anger,
Of angst that I didn't understand.
The guilt I hadn't learned to accept,
The responsibility I needed to avoid.
Sometimes I'm glad,
I had you to hold us up,
To hold me above you
While I threw stones at your head.
Sometimes I wish,
You could see me now,
To know that I'm more
Than what I was.
That I'm capable of choosing
To never be the tower
By your side.
Sometimes I'm happy,
And sometimes I'm grateful.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 7:54 PM UTC