the unanswered phone calls and
the fake smiles
remind me why i don't
deserve to live
i cant be loved by a single
soul
lonely or fulfilled
i'm a leftover
a nuisance
a waste
it's a miracle if someone simply
acknowledges me
i know no one will care
when they wake up the next
morning and i'm
gone
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 6:42 PM UTC
i take glimpse of
your baby blue locks
only to find your
soul
shattered to pieces
though your sincere stare
only holds painfully aching
love and intimacy
found nowhere but here;
inside of my own dark,
blackened soul.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 1:18 PM UTC
I tune the radio to a station I know won't come in.
Because it sounds just like the ocean to me.
And a fake ocean is far better than no ocean at all.
It sounds like a place so far away from here, so free.
I place blankets over my curtains, which are over my windows.
Because it makes me feel safe when I sleep.
And a bit of sleep is a lot better than none at all.
It seems this new habit I've formed, I'll keep.
I run outside every single time it rains.
Because the cold jars my lifeless body awake.
And some feeling is nicer than no feeling at all.
It hopefully cleanses me, for I know my soul's at stake.
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 8:11 PM UTC
i knew i had fallen
when you were taken from me
and i drowned in my own sorrow
for months
when you wouldn't leave this
ugh
wretched damsel
when i showed you the landscape
of me
and you insist upon creating shelter
upon it
when i stayed awake long hours
of the night
scared and
desperate and
wishing and
hoping
that you were the dove that stayed
who would never lift a talon
to my fragile soul.
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 12:37 AM UTC
You asked me why I traced the lines on your face,
I couldn't bear to tell you that I wanted your skin to burn my fingertips until we met again.
I found myself staring while you were sleeping, memorizing your every feature.
I don’t want to forget even the tiniest freckle.
I could paint every square inch of your room with utmost detail.
I memorized it while you were dreaming of all the places you'd rather be, and I was awake from the horrors of the nightmare that is your departure.
Maybe if I don't forget the view from my side of the bed, I'll be able to close my eyes and still imagine things haven't changed.
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 4:49 AM UTC
I asked Ana to help me,
be my best friend,
she said it would be hard
and once I start
there's no going back,
sometimes,
some people,
take it too far,
and can't stop.
She said there's no telling the outcome.
She's wrong in that sense,
I know the outcome,
the outcome is beautiful.
It doesn't matter if I'm a corpse,
I swear if this kills me
I'm going to be the skinniest corpse
you ever did see.
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 7:33 PM UTC
I want to say I'm an unopened novel on your bookshelf,
but that would mean I'm the Harry Potter series
(if I remember correctly)
and I might be, I wouldn't know -I've never read them,
but I've been in your hands enough to be a bit worn,
and there could've been so many chapters of us
if you had just opened the first book.
I'm an encyclopedia of a subject
you never got interested enough to read;
so much information, so much to learn
but my cover is plain, and my words are complicated
and there's magazines on your brother's dresser
of beautiful girls and little words,
so why would you ever waste time on me?
But I'm a wine-box full of scripted letters never sent,
and you're downing liquor as if to forget something,
and I hope you never try to forget me.
I wish you downed me like you did of that bottle,
but like old-wine, my cork was tight
and you didn't have the patience to open me.
Old wine has more flavour,
at the surface I'm sober;
at the core, I'm drunk.
We could've fallen in love
if we had taken the time to learn each-other;
but we started as strangers, and ended as strangers,
except now I'm left collecting dust on my own shelf.
I've been writing letters to a stranger
I swear I could have loved.
(NJ2014) (© All Rights Reserved)
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 6:33 AM UTC