I have to admit, you’ve ruined me
You’ve ruined me in the best way
Because now I can’t listen to love songs
Or go certain places
Because when I do
All I think of is you
Yes, you’ve ruined me
You’ve ruined me in the best way
Because now I can’t lie in bed
With anyone else’s head
On my chest
Or smell certain scents
Without being hit
With a flood of memories
My darling, you’ve ruined me
You’ve ruined me in the best way
Because all I want to wake up to
Is smiley, sleepy you
And all I want to hear is your voice
So soothing and calm
The most pleasant noise
Yes, I have to admit that you have completely and utterly ruined me
But my dear, you have ruined me in the best possible way
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 9:47 PM UTC
The reason why I apologize
So profusely over the tiniest of things
Is because I always feel as though
I am a bother and annoyance so
I want the person to be aware that
I am truly sorry for the mishap
I may have brought about or the wrong words that may have come out of my mouth
Because in the past I had to apologize again and again
A million sorries I must have said
Just to get the point across
Just to assuage the anger I unintentionally caused
I apologize repeatedly
Because I fear not being taken seriously
When I say sorry I mean it with all of my heart
I apologize even when people say I am not at fault
Because in the past I was always the one guilty
I was always in the wrong
Because when that rage came up and rolled along
It rolled right over me
And so I said sorry
I said sorry to the steamroller for being in its way
And for the broken bones and bruises on my heart that I carried for days
I apologize for apologizing
Because I know I must sound so repetitive and annoying
But I feel as though I can't apologize enough
To make up for and cover up
Whatever sin I may have committed against the one I am apologizing to
Because when you say it’s okay I always fear it’s not true
Because in the past those hiccups and bumps
That weren't even my fault were held against me for months
No matter the amount of times I said sorry and meant it
And the number of times I tried to fix
The mangled mess that wasn't mine but that I was still apologizing for
It was like going to war
But I waged it and gave my best effort
To stitch and sew up the jagged cuts
Of long angry nights and an alcohol filled gut
But failed and then apologized when the seams ripped and tore
Because no matter what I did was going to restore
What used to be
Or repair the damage that happened before me
And so I am sorry for that
That I couldn't make it better because I lacked
Whatever it was you were looking for
But that constant state of feeling guilty is what sent me out the door
And I am free of that weight now
But I still feel the need to say sorry for every little mistake now
Thanks to you I sound like a record stuck on repeat
So I’m sorry that I say sorry too much
But I never know when enough sorries are enough
Jan 21, 2018
Jan 21, 2018 at 2:08 PM UTC
January 7th, 2016
The day I lost a part of me
That I never really got the chance to know
But despite that
This loss cuts deep into my soul
January 7th, 2016
The day my mother left me
And oh God does it sting
She was not there when I turned sixteen
She will not be there to look at pictures from my junior and senior prom
Or watch me get married and be there when I myself become a mom
January 7th, 2016
A day my father was not there for me
Because he was too afraid to see
My mother lying cold in that hospital bed
Did not want to acknowledge that she was dead
January 7th, 2016
A date that will forever linger over me
That still brings me dreams
No
Not dreams
Nightmares
Haunting images of that vacant stare
That my mother wore
All of us knowing what was in store
That there was little to no hope
The nurses tried to help us cope
But didn't really succeed
On January 7th, 2016
Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 1:59 PM UTC
Before me is a blank page
Awaiting to be filled
And so I will sit here and spill
The words from the tattered heart within my ribcage
Struggling to find the correct diction
To bring light to my position
The ever roaring chaos within my mind
Clouds the creative process from time to time
But at times that roar
Becomes a whisper and rolls down my spinal chord
Through tissues and blood into my chest
And then I am allowed to express
These wild, demented feelings and thoughts
In the form of letters strewn together
Lines and swirls and dots
Forming the characters
Before me on this once blank page
Which has now become a stage
To present the troublesome strain
That life places on my brain
Dramatic and tragic
But isn’t that what poetry usually consists of?
Pain and angst and emotional stuff
I tend to ramble too much in my writings
Or not say enough
Because either I think of too little
Or can never shut up
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 5:31 PM UTC
He was broken.
But in the most beautifully tragic way,
Like a shattered piece of fine China,
Or a metronome that ticked without time.
He carried on in his controlled, chaotic manner.
Several attempts made to correct himself,
Glue himself back together,
Or put himself back in sync.
Only half repairing what used to be.
Still of use -
But not quite practical,
Not quite up to par.
A nudge and he would fall out of rhythm.
A bump and a few pieces would come loose.
Yet he always tried so very hard
To hide the imperfection of himself,
To paint himself dazzling, distracting colors,
To play the music too loud to hear the mismatched ticking.
Make merry and mask the fitful psyche underneath.
Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 9:44 PM UTC
What is a sin?
Something foul and loathsome
Something done in ignorance
Not knowing the action
Is considered unsavory
To those who sit on church pews
And listen to the hate spewed
From self-righteous mouths
Of self-proclaimed holy men
Bigots I say
According to them no gay should be gay
No happiness for the queer
They’re not born that way, they’re sick
And they require a cure
A cure that entails “hospitalization”
And endless prescriptions
Of “holy” medication
They preach God hates ****
But their words fall flat
Because it is not God who hates
No
God loves
That’s the whole point of God
But they forget this in their “holy war”
On pure and natural love.
Dec 28, 2017
Dec 28, 2017 at 2:43 PM UTC
Why do I get the urge to cry whenever I see happy pictures of you as a child?
It’s like a sudden, overwhelming sadness hits me
Looking at the loss of innocence in your eyes as you grow older in the photos before me
This progressive loss strikes a chord deep within me for some reason
It makes me want to take the traumatized child I see in my arms
And tell him it’s gonna be okay and that I’m there to ensure no more harm will come to him
I want to let him know that he can be loved and that he is so much more than enough
I want to protect him from all the misery that I know he will have to face
But I know that I can’t do these things that I want to
I know that I can’t protect the past you
So I suppose that’s why I get the urge to cry when I see you smiling in old photographs
Because I know that that happy, momentary innocence is just that
Momentary.
Dec 28, 2017
Dec 28, 2017 at 2:17 PM UTC