I was immediately drawn to her.
She looked like you--if you hadn't come from a good family that is. Inked from head to toe, and not the ink of someone whose identity is wrapped up in how others see them, but in a desperate attempt to express themselves to the world.
The same hips, the same nape, the same thighs, the same eyes..
No.
The eyes were different.
There were no pretensions or Self-Righteous ******** There was no desire to use everyone around her until they were used up
She simply existed, and it was beautiful.
We were better lovers, better partners, and better friends than you ever allowed us to be.
She never yelled at me for expressing my opinion, or talking about why I might be upset. She listened, and considered, and talked.
In the end, it didn't last
Because
She looked like you.
Because
I allowed you to break me
Again.
Mar 1, 2020
Mar 1, 2020 at 7:22 PM UTC
Glancing down at the hole in his chest
he realizes he knew it was hurricane season
he just thought he was impervious to her winds
again.
Sep 19, 2019
Sep 19, 2019 at 5:52 PM UTC
#I see you.
Lying there just a few
feet from me, the
malaphor of us, derisive, mocking,
screaming at me from
the air above our heads,
the same air that lies heavy
pregnant
with all of the things we've
said to each other in this room
but you
don't see this
I glance at the curve of your hip
I question my resolve
I check and recheck my mental
list of how far I'm willing to
compromise and if it would be worth it
but you
don't feel this
I kissed your forehead, you took my hand;
you wouldn't let go. I sat there and
gently caressed your arm, wanting only
to hold you, but you have poisoned
yourself tonight and it would be wrong.
You fell asleep, and still held on to my hand.
I sat with you a moment longer, smiling and silently weeping at the same time.
You wouldn't let me leave yet again,
even in your sleep.
In the light we can be seen.
The darkness is safe, so I still hold your hand.
This is a love song;
This is a requiem.
Sep 5, 2019
Sep 5, 2019 at 2:55 AM UTC
The history of us is scarred into the topography of our sleepy little town
You know the one that has delusions of grandeur.
Hidden places where we learned the ins and outs of each other in a way that only new lovers can.
I've been traveling this sleepy little town again and the thing I've come to realize is this:
I used to come to these places to feel close to you.
The concrete abutment on the edge of a man made lake
The ruined foundation of an old restaurant
The stone table where we sat in the dark and I reminded you that some things didn't need to be photographed
You laughed at this but I came back and took a picture anyway.
Now they're just places,
waiting on
another idealistic young couple
whose whispers echo
. . .always and forever. . .
When forever is really just the next distraction away.
Apr 11, 2017
Apr 11, 2017 at 3:21 PM UTC
#*he hides his sadness
with photographs and
another rickety lie
to himself about sepia memories
of sad days he thinks were
better ones
the evidence of last nights tears
stains on the sheets he
wears wrapped around
his bruised, choking heart
beats relentlessly as he scrawls
another loving hash mark
into a never ending
patch
of
skin*#
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 12:31 PM UTC
*i had a broken toy box full of broken toys
flotsam and jetsam of a childhood
filled with playthings shattered and forgotten
in later years I would open that dusty
chest filled with dusty remnants of happier times and weep
for the friends I had left behind
shattered chunks of preformed plastic that
kept me safe when
barely out of diapers my Nuclear Family went
nuclear
lead paint and lawn darts
loose pieces and lost innocence
i learned the value of love through
spending time with cast off friends
i learned the value of respect through
seeing the pieces of the stickers that I
tore off my spider-man helicopter immediately
after
my mother and father in their last
act of love as a couple spent hours
placing them exactly as
instructed
i did not learn that one day i would
be a dusty old cast off toy in someone elses
box of broken pieces
in that world
toys are replaced before their
time
broken not by love and use but by throwing
them against the wall in a tantrum looking for
the next
shiny
new
thing*
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 2:31 AM UTC
promised rendezvous with your
*** held as a carrot in front
of my wanting
pelvis it was only later that
i realized the taste of you on my
chin was tainted with
the stains of a
dozen
other
lovers who all believed that
you moaned only for them
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 10:39 PM UTC
sweat and smoke obscured
photographs color my memories of the
fleece blanket where you
****** me
as the heavens exploded above us
the burrs that won't wash out no
matter how many times i
try
they stab me to remind me of what I've always known.
The things we love **** us all eventually.
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 2:53 PM UTC
whisky no longer held an
escape everywhere it would take
him he found her there wrapped
in a ***** sheet waiting for
him
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 11:43 AM UTC
#***they hide their sadness differently
each filling their emptiness with
never ending
waves of poor choices and
escalating consequences
he will never find relief in memories
of better times of kind words of moments shared under the moon on a hill where time and again they danced in and out of each other
she will never find relief in a bottle or a twisted piece of cellophane chasing the ghost of better times of kind words of moments shared when their souls and bodies were bare and there were no conceits or pretensions or sarcasms
of a time when they were the world
and the world was them
so they continue to chase
their relief in the wrong directions
when they both know that the
solution is asking to be found
So instead they'll forever carve each other's
names into their
very last
bare
inch of bone***#
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 11:11 AM UTC