It's terrifying.
To just toss yourself into unknown territory,
As one who's never loved before,
Matching up with someone who's played both sides of the game.
The heartbreaker, the heartbroken.
It's intimidating.
But you learn to jump.
And when you jump?
You fall.
But I must say the soaring rush of air,
And the constant pull of gravity,
Have been far more than pleasant since I jumped.
We may have left the parachutes on the plane,
But frankly that's no longer a concern to me.
Because I find comfort in knowing that if I hit the ground,
I'm hitting it with you by my side.
And to say I've grown confident would be a lie.
I still reel in absolute nervousness of playing the wrong card.
They thought it was hard dancing with two left feet,
Meanwhile I've been failing to dance with none at all,
The way I've ended up flat on the ground in love with you.
And to ask for a hand getting up would be foolish.
I'd much rather just lay here with you.
The impact might have been hard, but the fall was ever so sweet.
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 1:17 AM UTC
Somewhere there is a nurse putting clean sheets on what was once someone's death bed. Somewhere there is a police officer laying awake at two in the morning contemplating breaking his thumbs so he won't have to pull another trigger. Somewhere there is a body bag taking the shape of a person. Somewhere a warden has accidentally called a prisoner by their first name. Somewhere there is a man getting ready to pay for his glass of whiskey, his '1 year' AA token falls out of his wallet onto the bar counter. Somewhere the glass is completely empty, somewhere it's overflowing. Somewhere a therapist sitting in an empty session reading the local newspaper's obituary section wondering what she could've done. Somewhere a bullet has fallen in love with a heart, giving a whole new meaning to the 'kiss of death'. Somewhere the girl that never speaks is raising her hand but immediately putting it back down after the sound of her classmates' laughter bounces back and forth from the back of her mind to the front. Somewhere the silence at the dinner table is making a dent in a child's suit of armor. Somewhere a 70 year old man starts skipping instead of walking, he stops taking his medication. Somewhere there is a mother too drunk to sign her daughter's permission slip. Somewhere a man has stolen all of the flowers from a grave, so he can somehow feel as though he's being missed. Somewhere a child is asked what she wants to be when she grows up, she realizes ''myself'' isn't a good enough answer. Somewhere a mirror has been mistaken for a stranger. Somewhere someone is being loved by another person the only way they know how to love; whether it's through kisses, bruises, sleeping too closely to the other, or fifteen missed calls. Somewhere a man is falling in love with the automated voice inside of a voice mail because at least she will listen to him. Somewhere a 911 operator is walking into her house, hearing screams that aren't actually there. Somewhere these short stories are being broadcasted on the news, printed in the paper, whispered to a friend, or rotting in the back of someone's head. Somewhere I am whispering all of these things to a silent room full of people, none of them look up.
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 12:21 PM UTC
I think all this time
I've just grown fond
Of the idea of being something new within you
Instead of just the skin that brushes yours
I want to become an out-of-place oddity
Of your interior
A twist in your spine
A nervous twitch in your shaking hands
An off tempo beat in your heart
Something much more personal and unique
Than I can express on the outside
You've become a fire in my lungs
I just wish to return the favor
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 2:17 AM UTC
Once you've tasted love
It lives to be sublime and beautiful
To live without them?
There are a few alternatives
You may count the hours
Minutes
Seconds
Of their absence
You can play make believe
That their touch still greets you
At your loneliest hour
You can look at others and treat it
As Halloween
For they just wear the mask
Of that certain someone
You can play heart surgeon
Attempting to mend the hole
Where your heart used to lie
While they have it sitting
On their night stand
The alternatives exist
But love is where we belong
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 12:10 AM UTC
These dirt roads
They break way to gravel
Until the grass splits the cracks
In the soil
And gives birth to such green fields
Who seem to scream in anguish
Of the childhood you spent
Roaming amongst these woods
Now they remain
Simply a funeral home
For trees dying one day at a time
Much like you
Still soaking life in through your roots
As you stretch your branches even further
Grow ever taller
Towards the heaven
Which you only pray exist
In empty church pews
Stained with spilled wine
From the final day you still believed
In the ghost they claim walks among us still
But that day was long ago
Nowadays these false religions
Only coexists with you as fuel to the fires
That have ravaged several forest to ashes in the dirt
They looked a lot like yours
And suddenly you realize
That you're the last tree standing in your forest
And it's a dry day
A wedding day
For a forest fire and a final goodbye
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 10:15 PM UTC