i guess i
find it strange
the way
people i d e n t i f y
and q u a n t i f y
their existence
according to
a version of
a brand of
the divine,

greatly chosen b y
influenced b y
geography and
  family ties.

and i'm sorry, but,
it cannot be
that everyone is
simply describing
the same
phenomena with
different w o r d s
      like a version
           or an update
   or an accent,

because although life
is grey, some things are,
and some things
are not.

there is but one
merriam-webster
dictionary.

dictionary.com also
defines words,
even the
same words
but they are
distinct entities.

they live under
the umbrella of
    a bigger concept
about words
   and language,

they are versions of
explanations of
a more
e l u s i v e
construct -

the word.

and you cannot even grasp
exactly what
  the word is,
because it
depends on
so many factors.

yet most
grab onto and cling to
the first dictionary
thrown at them.

others might exist
and even be
similar,

but you know
you have your favorite,

you are a
brand loyalist.

and the product
is

reality.

which is fine,
i guess,
in and of
itself

as long as
you can admit
that Kleenex is
the best and
Puffs is for
losers.

sure, you might smile at
the Puffs users and
even bring them
a meal,

but deep down inside
you know that
   you are right

**and they are wrong.

In the darkest of nights
Your body pressed against the wall
Hands held high above
Let me slide my hands down your body
To feel every sensual curve
Let me kiss you as if it were the last time I were able
Sliding my tongue softly against your lips
Let me kiss your neck softly in this night
Sliding my tongue up your neck upon your ear
Down further to explore your body. Tearing off one piece of clothing as a am to uncover what my tongue seeks Watch me as I kiss down your bare body
Watch me as I spread your legs and slide between.
Watch me tear your underwear off
Let me slide my velvet tongue
Watch me explore your insides
Until I find the path that brings you to your limitations
Watch me climb up your body kissing every inch with wet lips
Kiss me so you taste what your inner being is
Open your legs and wrap them around my waist
Pull me closer so our bodies may collide
Pull me deeper so I may further explore your inner being
My hips bucking
Yours following in motion
This pleasure we share
In my life's fantasy.

~September 5th, 2017~
~Sometime between 10 and 11PM~

Her:
You're an empath.

Me:
I guess so.

Her:
Have you ever thought about it?

Me:
Being an empath?
I never knew there was a name for it.

I never knew there was a name form my kind of pain analyzation. Like I have some kind of supernatural power to read into pain of all kinds.

Her:
Is it that you understand other people's pain or your own pain or both?

Me:
I think I’ve always done both.

Her:
I had a feeling.

Here we go.

Her:
How does it affect you?

A loaded question, and being the person I am I answered it the only way I knew how:

Me:
I always get this feeling that when people are sad or hurt, I have to be too.
Sometimes it’s just my way of showing that pain is just something people have.

But mostly, it makes me helpless to stop other people’s pain.
I get sad, like some kind of way to share the pain that isn’t even mine.
And when it is my pain, nobody can seem to understand it fully.
And it’s not like I completely understand someone else’s pain,
but you see and hear a lot when you turn silent for awhile.

Lots of people try to say that people aren’t alone when they suffer.
And most of it is comfort.

But most of the time I see people in pain, and I don’t see a reason to comfort.

I see more of a reason to just be there.

Experience something beyond yourself.

There a certain type of selfless peace that comes when pain is no longer just one person’s fight.

It’s not about being together in pain. It's about experiencing life with pain just passing by.
It’s been said in books, “Pain demands to be felt”
I don’t know, something about that makes me wish I could do more.

But yeah,
I’m empathetic a lot of the time.
Maybe that’s why I stick around even when I shouldn’t.

I stop. I've said enough.

Me:
Sorry, I’m rambling...
That’s a ton of text.

Silence

And for a minute, I wonder if anything I say is being understood.

Her:
The way you speak is beautiful.
I'm marvelling in it.

... I sit in awe. Grasping at a full acceptance of the way I convey myself in feelings, but more importantly, here, in this moment.

Her:
You speak poetry.

Me:
No wonder I’m a poet.
It’s like destiny or something idk.

Part of me wishes I would have spelt the whole phrase out, it has the same amount of syllables.

Her:
I'm here for you.
I **** at comforting and that's not what I want.
All I want is for you to know that I am present.
And sharing the fight.

This, THIS right here, is companionship, and friendship, saying that "I can be here", and that will be enough.

Her:
I want to fight with you.
Even though I'm not very aggressive.

Hearing this said, "I want to fight with you". Not "I want to fight for you". This says more than any kind of battle with someone at my side, this is real, in this moment.

Me:
Hahah, we’ll fight it with music or something.
Doesn’t have to be aggressive.
Faith, hope, the essentials.

We're believers in things like love, God, and good songs that rock the world... and we don't need much more than that.

Her:
That said, music can be aggressive.
But we'll stick to the essentials.

We'll stick to our guns and hopefully, we won't have to fire.

Her:
Please know that you can ramble to me as much as you like.
I love it.

I know... me too.

Her:
Goodnight, love you.

And as we come to an end, we fall back into a small but familiar silence between us.

Me:
Goodnight, love you too.

-End-

I touched her lips,
reminisce of where they were last kissed
and I hold back broken sentences
that I may find comfort in telling her
if she weren’t the one who
cut off my tongue.

Speechless, she reaches into
my soul like a spear to
a bottomless river, expecting
to find my self-worth but,
instead, she finds a
blackness that has consumed me
long since she burrowed herself
within its depth.

Loving her was my religion,
and as she faded into the Autumn wind,
I knew that I could never love again,
not without travesty,
not without remorse.

Without her, there was
no meaning in the blue
skies or the phantoms that
hide in their corners.

I knew that when she didn’t
answer my prayers at night,
my faith had gone as well.

I have sketched you in so many ways,
with dots and lines
and shadows and lights
and covered in colours
or in black and white.

I've sketched you as a prince,
I've sketched you as a beggar,
I've sketched you as a lover,
I've sketched you as a hater.

I've adjusted myself
to several graphite scales
so I can shade your flaws
into fairy tales...

you have been my muse,
both master and apprentice,
you have been obsession
for my sleepless senses...

But even if your image
has haunted me for long,
you have never been
just mine to belong...

so I'll just keep on drawing
and sketching you, my all
so I can have you near
when nights are getting cold...

how better
to spend the day while
she sleeps peacefully
but listening to music

the Beatles
in particularly.
Catching a glimpse
occasionally

of her beautiful
peacefulness
wondering
does she dream of me

when I hear
Good Day Sunshine
I ache

to wake her up