Love is patient love is kind
but love is fleeting
and love is blind
Love is a game
that’s too hard to win
and love is a pattern
of uncontrollable sin
Love is a flower
I can’t keep alive
Either thirsty or drowning
I can’t make it thrive
Love is a battle fought in vain
For it always seems to end in pain
Love in a poison you can't ignore
whose only cure is to love some more
Nov 14, 2017
Nov 14, 2017 at 6:08 AM UTC
Why am I here
This room holds no potential
soaked in memories of what i thought was the beginning.
they drip from the desk in the corner
they ooze from every seam
Written in the books on the shelves
And Worn into the Leather of the chair
they beg me to remember
they plead to take me back
Why am I here
This room can’t help me now
It can only repeat what it knows
until I scream for it to stop
but the pictures in my head don’t listen
and they run a constant loop
reminding me of what i was and what I’ve always been
Why am I here
This room is poison
The air too thick to breath, like smoke
gets stuck in my throat, never making it to my lungs
It chokes me and sends blood rushing to my head
but i can’t get enough
Why am i here
because the voices in my head are real
and so close i can touch them
they beg for me but recoil from my touch
wanting me to wait but telling me to go
Why am I here
Because i’ve never left this room
I bang at the door but it won’t let me out
and she’s laughing as i sink to the floor
and your voice fills my head
and it locks me in this room that has no future but refuses to forget its past
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 8:29 AM UTC
Ed came to stay when she was 12
No one invited him.
He snuck in through the sliding door,
for the girl who needed some sense of control.
He told her he would help her,
he would always be her friend.
Self-control was what she needed
And he’d teach her all the tricks.
Move your food around,
bring it to your mouth,
then ask about your sister’s day.
It was their little secret
and he’d teach her how to keep it.
So he lived inside the mirror,
fostering disease.
He showed her a reflection
but it wasn’t really hers.
Ed came to stay when Reba was 12
But he didn’t just come for a visit
He grew stronger in the hollows of her sunken cheek,
and the jutting of her narrow hips.
We found Ed six years later,
When zeros became double zeros
And weak legs gave way on the sixth step
Six years and we hadn’t noticed
Ed carving out her rib cage and collar bones
Until there was nothing of her left.
And just Ed.
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 8:28 AM UTC
If this were a haiku, I'd have
seventeen syllables to explain
why I'm running
out of syllables
to tell you why
the doorknob,
and not between my fingers,
is where your hand shouldn't be.
Message Delivered
If that sounds confusing,
it's because it isn't,
and you're only confused because I
proofread the text messages
and you forget words,
but it's like you forgot "you"
after "I" and "love,"
and you just never thought to put it back.
Message Delivered
I checked the date
and you missed
Monday morning in Lowry
and the morning before that in Farmer Boy,
and we've got a whole calendar
of affections that you're missing
because you opened up
to a month too far back
and now you're in love
with moments that forgot you
Message Delivered
I’m holding out for cycles of goodbye kisses
and I only got them
when you woke up,
and i’m not sure you ever did again
because you’re living
in sweet dreams
that are quietly bitter
and your ideas don’t love you
like you’ve convinced yourself you do.
Message Delivered
If I could go back
i'd give you space,
i’d break my own heart
not listening to the sound
of your breath
as you fall asleep next to me
but you're finding shelter
in broken affection
afraid to be alone
forgetting
who you are in
familiarity,
in Her
Message Delivered
I’ll fall asleep tonight,
and wake up tomorrow,
the same way I did yesterday,
thinking of something that wasn’t,
or maybe really was
and praying I could fall back into that dream
but sleep isn’t quite that easy,
and blissful ignorance
is granted only to the few
Message Delivered
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 8:25 AM UTC
Nothing fixes the empty I feel
it sinks to the pit of my stomach, and tells me it's there
but it's nothing
It's nothing the tears that well in my eyes
and it's nothing that lives in the dark of my mind
It's nothing that dreams of simpler pain
that gets stuck in my throat and rushes through my veins
It beats with my heart, and I can't live apart.
But what is it? It's nothing.
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 8:22 AM UTC