“sticks and stones may break these bones
but words shall never hurt me”
and so the saying goes
failing to acknowledge  
just how hurtful words can be
when left unsaid

as if twigs and pebbles weigh more
than the burden of the
“i don’t love you”
hidden in his eye.

write your story as you will,
and read mine just the same.
there’s a war of words and hearts,
between the lines of fear and blame.

i read and then i reread,
every word you’ve placed upon these pages,
describing lovers of your past
in the most perfect of ways,
in sentences i only wish could contain,
my name.
reveling in all of their sin and glory,
because the two seem to go hand in hand.
and though i shouldn’t,
i continue.
i read and then i reread,
your ****** tellings of beautiful women with bodies incapable of imperfections,
with characteristics that unmistakably contradict mine.
truthfully it hurts in the most painful of ways,
but I’ve learned better than to ask,
and i no longer question why.

i just read and i reread,
picturing your hands,
on her thighs.

there is a fine line between,
what is real and,
what is a dream,
it is just
the unjust divide.
———————————————
and i’m on reality’s side.
so i’ll whisper my goodbye
with a peck upon your cheek
because i can’t force you awake
when you would rather be asleep.

Born to love
Oh, but cursed to feel
The pain that comes accompanied
By love lost and time spent
Wasted, waiting for reciprocation
That will, truthfully, never make
it’s way back
home.