tell me, boy,
when did you begin to notice
the Stars falling from my eyes?
you always told me how bright I was...
surely, you must've seen the light going out.
was it the night
I sobbed into your chest,
and told you that some nights
I feel so cold and alone
even while someone I love
sleeps soundly beside me?
the night I told you
that I am not a good person
and you would be better off without me?
you never believed me
because I buried my secrets so deep,
but **** if you knew...
boy, you would have ran
before I had the chance to convince you to stay.
or maybe it was the night
I told you that maybe,
just maybe,
there is no forever in our future?
I bared my soul and was met with
resentment and resistance.
we both cried that night.
you told me
there was no one else,
and that you couldn't picture a life without me in it.
snd I cried because
I could not say the same,
and I did not know why.
slowly, you faded from my future -
I could no longer see you
in the life I envisioned for myself.
no, but surely it had to be the night
I left in tears,
in search of answers
to questions I couldn't quite understand.
I almost found them
six feet underground...
I was saved, but not by you.
once again, I saved myself
because I learned my lesson before...
you can't expect the answers you seek
on the journey toward your Self
to roll off the tongue of another.
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 1:56 AM UTC
I always have this nightmare
where I’m tumbling down a hill,
rolling faster, picking up speed…
until I’m catapulted off a cliff
into a deep ravine.
In my dream, I wake up gasping
before I can find out
what is at the bottom.
Maybe there are piles of sharp rocks,
glass, needles...
Or maybe there’s a cool river,
plenty of beautiful trees and flowers,
or a soft bed of cotton.
My point is…
maybe it isn’t a nightmare.
It could be a dream.
I know there’s a difference
between falling and flying,
but I don't think I was born
with the ability to tell which is which.
Maybe one day I’ll learn
to let the tide take me away,
to let the ocean take control,
to lose touch with the Earth
without feeling like she’s sitting on my chest.
I hope one day,
I can feel the joy of flying
without feeling the panic of falling.
Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 8:41 PM UTC
the hardest part
about missing you
is knowing
I shouldn't.
yet here I am,
up all night
aching and thinking of you
and you're sound asleep.
your dreams aren't filled
with the faces of a lover
who made promises
that were not kept.
(but mine were.)
you don't wake in the morning
wanting to return to your dreams
just to see my face
or hear my voice.
(but I do.)
you don't go about your day
wondering where I am
or what I'm up to
or if I'm thinking of you.
(but I always am.)
and at night
when you lay down to sleep
you don't wish
you were lying right next to me.
(nighttime is the loneliest, you know.)
but I think the hardest part
about missing you
is not dreaming of you,
or thinking of you,
or wishing you were here.
the hardest part
is knowing you made your choices
and I wasn't one of them.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 10:39 PM UTC
He asked me
as I said goodbye
for the very last time.
Rambling on about how I was selfish,
cared about no one but myself,
I was a menace,
a *****
With my belongings in my hand,
and a brooding glare,
I said,
"Because I'm too good for you.
There's nothing egotistical about knowing your worth."
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 2:03 PM UTC
°°°
You asked me once,
“Will you write about me
if I break your heart one day?”
I thought you were joking.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 3:18 AM UTC
I don't think
I could get
close enough
to you,
even if
I melted
into your skin.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 11:06 PM UTC
"I don't love you anymore," she says
as she chokes back tears.
Lying through her teeth,
trying to convince herself
that the words she says are true,
but they aren't
and they never will be.
"I can live without him," she shrugs,
as she tries to find him elsewhere
at the bottom of bottles
and bowls of herb.
Sometimes, she finds comfort
in the arms of strangers,
and for a moment she is content,
but they'll never fill the void
and she knows that all too well.
"I miss you," she texts him
in a moment of weakness,
lying on the bathroom floor
drunk off too many shots
of cheap whiskey.
She knows she shouldn't
but she sends it anyways,
thinking the regret of letting him go
is worse than the pain of loving him.
"I wish I'd never met you," she screams,
and these words are true.
Because loving a toxic person,
someone you know isn't right for you,
is the worst form of torture.
At times she'd take a bullet because it might hurt less,
but the sick side of her loves the pain
and she keeps coming back...
She still doesn't know why.
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 2:22 AM UTC
It's amazing how
a simple tune,
a melody,
can carry so many memories.
Even after all these years,
I heard Our Song
and my heart started to race,
the same way it did when you would look at me
or call me "dear"...
And even though we're distant now,
it's like I can still feel
the touch of your skin,
soft and warm against mine,
before everything fell apart.
I wish we still talked,
I wish we kept in touch,
I wish I hadn't said the things I did,
But it's gone and in the past.
I have no regrets.
And no matter what,
you'll always have a part of me...
and I'll always remember you.
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 1:38 AM UTC
My feelings
are changing.
I feel renewed and
f r e s h
like the blossoms
on a cherry tree,
or the fresh smell of growing grass
peeking through the melting snow.
When the rain comes,
dance with me.
Then take my hand, sit,
and watch as the rainbow
emerges from the dark clouds.
As the months go by,
we become more comfortable
in the summer heat.
The storms are stronger
but the sun is brighter,
w a r m e r.
And I want to spend every night
cozy by a fire with you.
No responsibilities or cares,
just sharing the humid air
and closing the space between us.
Then the color comes
and washes away the green
with beautiful hues of red and orange
and everything is dying beautifully.
But darling,
not you and I.
The nights are colder,
c r i s p e r.
Somehow, everything seems more fragile,
and I think you feel it too
as you press your icy,
October evening lips
gently onto mine.
Now,
the frosty chill of winter is upon us
and I am wrapping myself up in you.
So warm and
c o m f o r t a b l e,
like my favorite sweater.
Feeling your warm breath
on my neck
and your hands
on my hips.
If only this perfect moment,
our beautiful, ever-changing moment,
could last forever.
The spring will come again,
but for now
I only need you
to make me feel new.
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 1:22 AM UTC