the audacity you have to suggest touching me.
after all the pain you caused. after all of the shear kindness, I painfully gave at the expense of your weakness.
the audacity I have to even consider crawling to you.
I am not weak. I deserve better.
wake up, lover girl. he is not your project.
when i get nervous i cannot eat.
this is eating me alive.
I could easily be addicted
EASILY be addicted.
I'm easily addicted.
or am I easily addictive?
or addictivly easy.
I'm easy?... me?
am I addictively easy?
easily an addict?
I mustn't be.
YOU are the one addicted to me.
What would I do if you wanted this to end?
I would smile. I would hug you. I would offer you my reassurance.
Then I would leave you there to melt off into a puddle made entirely of the mess of me, sliding around in up and down directions scattered and strown like the pieces of my heart.
i wasn't very subtle
he knew my green eyes lied
but for a girl who always tells the truth
its hard to hide my bedroom eyes
And we keep waiting,
waiting for our lives to begin,
when in fact they have already begun
Uneasy and numb are the hand and the lighter. They dance together before the fire, not thinking of destruction, only enjoying corruption. once a wildfire spilt into the wilderness, and the spark still lingers day after day — a stale burning of understanding. My need to be needed, and his wildfire life burnt the bushes down; we watched the ashes subside. This is what our togetherness looked like — uncovering all of the figures hidden in the shadows. They would chase him day by day round and round his tortured mind. He in the shadows and I in the light. Running and jumping, shouting, “this way!” He failed to hear. Darkness is all too loud in his forest. He turns his face knowingly, careful not to look at the flames. I chose patience in that race. He needed a steady hand, a voice who knew how to call upon the light. But how long was it until the pressure suffocated my sunbeam strides? The fire may be over but now as ashes drift closer and closer still to my face… covering my body in the ash-filled darkness and distancing me from his shadow.
it's like a lustful liqour night.
like cool cigarettes.
like gunpowder waiting to jump the bullet.
it's like me and you.
It's not fair for me to be the one who keeps these strings attached
when my heartstrings were the ones he played with
but life's not fair so maybe now I'll admit I played with his heartstrings too... softly and unknowingly cutting away at them
over and over i told him my love was not for his keeping.
he held on to hope so strong.
last night we kissed for hours.
then i had to tell him
that those kisses, that feeling, last night, was the last time.
I'm tired of being a prisoner, within these cement walls, the days drag on behind me, it's a never-ending throng, of pointless conversations as we pass from cell to cell.
I long for the day when we transfer to the prison at least it's free and open, open for discussions. Open for my heart to cling to a dream drawing passion. Because today I'm tired of being a prisoner, in false hope, broken love, and fake laughter.
It screams so vibrantly when convenient.
Then sends a signal through silk smiles that slowly simmer on tightly drawn lips.
The lips explode in an angry over boil of sour soot engrossed sin.
Heated thoughts point their haughty fingers in heatwave directions
striking the nearest and seemingly weakest iced block- melting it down to a puddle of pitiful pain.
Defenseless the droplets condense quickly in self-defense, running in every direction.
i was young on that warm summer night.
he was fifteen and blazing with independence.
we sat on the patio chair just close enough for me to tremble.
he showed me the stars through the telescope.
little did he know he was the brightest one to me.
i was an asteroid waiting for the moment I could launch into his world just long enough to shift his disposition.
I cannot cut the ties that bind and this indeed is binding me.
I was swimming in a new headspace when you jumped in with three words. I hope you realize soon they weren't true. Did your mother never tell you not to dive into the shallow end? I guess not. You're so used to leaping into what's shallow you don't even know you deserve better. But, what is really sad is they don't know either.
I didn't. But now I do.
Look at me,
Breath me in
Look at me,
Feel the sin
Look at me,
Hear my heart,
she is dancing
dancing for you alone.
I haven't felt anger like this in so long; somehow, I end up feeling I’m in the wrong. Back and forth but silently. Envy creeps up…she lies to me. Tells me I’m the one with the problem. How can this be? She causes the mess and she doesn’t even know. That is called a problem to me. When you lie to yourself so easily. Call me a hypocrite but let me say that sometimes your selfishness gets in the way…..
he was right
and i didn't even know
as his mouth drew music out of me
at that moment i knew
i was innocent....
#*** #love #sad #heartbreak
Contentment is not an option for me
It's unimportant unimpressed
Peace is inadequate. Invalid even.
My strength Caries me to safety in small tasks.
In crumbling rafts, I fall and drift slowly but surely deeper and deeper.
Pure Success is not an option for me.
I fear I'll strive my whole life to achieve only an empty hopeless wanting
Religion is unprecedented in me.
No hope to be found as my soul wallows in dark soft misery.
All the while I look up to try and see the light.
I've yelled, "oh God show yourself please! For my sake!" But isn't that the point you aren't saved for you're own selfishness.
So, therefore, how can I ever be forgiven? If I'll never understand his love again what hope is in my world.
My final thought brings me to moan these final lonesome heart-wrenching words. These are...
That Love is not an option for me. My soul can no longer find true love for people. I do not admire genuine character anymore. I do not sketch the image of warm sunken laughter on another's face into my mind. I do not memorize the sound of children squealing in excitement. Death no longer pains me. We are rather mutual friends. I would rather scoff with the lowly for my one self-righteousness. Greed and pride eat at my bones like wolves gnawing on a carcass in pity for themselves. I do not know commitment to another's heart and I do not understand how I ever will. I feel unloveable. Untouchable. I am scared to be touched by someone's smooth loving fingers because I fear they will be hurt by my flaws.
Love. What is love? Will love ever be an option for me?
I know that as I speak he is standing where I want to be.
He's in his shower. In the heat. In the water where he drowns the pain.
Right where I left him. In the middle of pain.
But little does he know that if he would not have given me the chance to escape I would have never stepped away.
I would be there. In the heat where I want to be.
Watching drops of water as if they were me, roll off of his lips, down his hips, and escaping down the drain into the abyss.
— The End —