There is not a sign on my back saying "kick me".
Therefore there is no invitation to do so.
What about that is so hard to understand?
The world will probably never know.
We let others play their games and
Maybe when they've grown up,
The might feel the same pain they put us through.

I wish talking to you was easy like a Sunday morning:
the mumbling and anxiety replaced with the scent of coffee and warmth,
the silence filled with my favourite people, sharing laughs and thoughts; bad television providing the backing track to our slumped breakfast.

I wish I looked at myself the way I look at you,
my eyes adopt a hazed film of adoration while they explore your every feature;
my eyes close and tears begin to stain my cheeks while they notice a new blemish, tainting my skin's purity,
piling on top of 16 years worth of insecurity.

I wish you were my medicine.
the only relief you provided was your manipulation,
you managed to intertwine your filthy little lies into my heartstrings and pluck at them whenever you wanted to and I let you.
silly girl.

I never knew how you felt.
you were ice cold, but I liked the shudder that shot down my spine when your hands met my waist.
your mystery pulled me closer, drew me in.

your lips always felt so absent.
I knew in the way you kissed me that you didn't want me the way I wanted you,
I was your entertainment
your 'she's there so I may as well'
I meant nothing to you while you meant everything to me.

three months ago,
hearing those words would have killed me.
those words would have snuck their way onto the backs of my eyelids and sat there as a reminder every time I blinked, cried, slept.
they would be the undertone of every word I said, every word I wrote
they would've eaten me alive.

look at me now.
that part of me disintegrated a long time ago,
although, that part of me was what kept the butterflies in my stomach alive and I do miss that feeling.
I miss the feeling of loving someone.
but with love comes pain and I don't know if I could have carried on living with that excruciating sensation.
look at me now.
I don't care anymore,
the tears that used to fall for you have found their balance.

of course I want to adore and to be adored;
but I'm afraid I'll only adore and will never be adored.
you ripped my life out of me, used it as your punching bag and forced it into my throat and expected my bruises to be faint,
those bruises shine a blinding violet.

sometimes I miss you and the feelings,
but I know I deserve more.
heartbreak is inevitable,
that, I know for sure.

~T.T

Life like sand castles
Wash away so blissfully
Crumbles in your hand

When
your inner optimist becomes someone else,
someone pessimist,

-that has decided to see the good things,
the least.

I am a woman,
confirmed by intricate womanly organs.
I am a woman,
Whose heart has been stolen.

I am a woman,
Who looks upon her husband’s soul.
I am a woman,
Trying to comprehend contentment’s goal.

I am a woman,
Running from society’s judging eyes.
I am a woman,
That sometimes cuddle with lies.

I am a woman,
Looking underneath broken shards to find faith.
I am a woman,
That understands the wisdom of what Jesus paid.

I am a woman,
That believed I was damaged to the highest degree.
I am a woman,
Whose flaws shaped me into plain, exquisite Ree!

clandestine calculations on ticker tape streamers
add to up to nothing in the vast scheme of time and space

when words fall from trees like levees breaking,

**** it

girl scouts to the rescue, if cookies can float
lined with sand bag intentions while rising waters
recede faster than the hairline of the mayor pro tem
collecting donations as his sister jumps rope
tied to the anchor of his city washing down the street

cleaning the gunk and glitz from gutter spammers
stealing passwords and paper boats
from unsuspecting children taking the day off from school
because the rains came and lemon trees no longer leaked
when anyone was looking,

ah lemon trees,

very pretty