I think daffodils will always make me think of you
And how you could brighten up a mood, the way the yellow blossom reminds us that spring is coming.
I look at the step where you sat, where you turned to me for comfort.
Isn’t it silly that I want to turn to you now, I want your comfort, as if I’m the one who died?
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 9:58 AM UTC
Your love is there or it isn't,
There is no in between.
I do not no what grey is,
It's all black and white to me.
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 10:40 AM UTC
She kissed me
not because
she wanted to
but because
she could.
We fell in
love.
Not because
we could
but because
we wanted to.
We made
mistakes.
Not because
we wanted to
but because
we could.
We thought
we were
perfect.
Not because
we could
but because
we wanted to.
I vomited in
the bathroom
of a
Baltimore
7-11
because
sometimes
you cannot
hold it in
much
longer.
Her hands shook
as she held her
mirror
because
sometimes
your reflection
can only
tell you
so much.
My body shook.
Her body stiff.
And when
the bodies
move
the hearts
stop.
She lied some.
I drank words.
The veins
in hands
are maps
to imagined
consciousness.
Really,
it's just
a
*******
*****
Music to
my ears.
Nervousness
between
blinks.
Noise to
my brain.
She said,
"I love you"
not because
she wanted to
but because
she could.
I said,
"I love you, too,"
not because
I could
but because
I wanted to.
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 1:00 PM UTC
I want to live in the crook of your neck,
Where I am always warm and always loved.
I want to live in the crook of your neck,
Your hands around my waist keeping me grounded.
I want to live in the crook of your neck,
So that every time I look up your lips will meet mine.
I want to live in the crook of your neck,
Because I know when I have sad days you'll only hold me tighter.
I want to live in the crook of your neck,
Where my mothers disappointment will be reflected off my shoulders.
I want to live in the crook of your neck,
Your love will be the only words to impact me.
I want to live in the crook of your neck,
The smell of your flannels reminding me to breath.
I want to live in the crook of your neck,
Your touch telling me I am part of your beautiful life.
I want to live in the crook of your neck.
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 12:56 PM UTC
Your name does not matter to me.
Not with all the names you've called her,
Hanging in the air like
toxic gas suffocating innocent children.
You're too ashamed of the beautiful person you've created
to look her in the eyes.
Too afraid you'll see all of the things
you are not.
She cuts herself off
because the person she was told to trust,
took her heart
and sent it through a grinder.
She rations herself like she does her food,
too afraid to give herself away
because you taught her to
hate what the mirror reflected.
But of everything broken
that she has become,
she will only ever always be a
reflection of what you wish to be.
And I pray to whatever's living
that when she leaves,
she will take all of your
arrogant self-righteousness with her.
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 8:20 AM UTC