Pretty hair, pretty eyes, pretty face with pretty lies.
No one knows the pain,
They say us as young ones can't experience pain,
But they don't know,
Everyday is a struggle,
Shedding invisible tears,
Well at least those i can't hold back anymore.

It's hard enough already living life without knowing who you are,
But even harder lying to yourself about it.
I swear one day i will cry without stopping,
Or maybe it's too late for that now.

Everyday i come around friends,
Smiling, it's a fixed expression.
I go home and sing the pain away or make a poem,
Without talking about the pain.


                                                         ­                                 Jonesy  ©

south carolina and ohio and the blurred lines of love and something else. something worse. dangerous. all this talk of coming home. you imagine she means your heart instead of your house. she is held captive by the bounds of her past. all romance and regret. pink wine never tasted good anyway. then again nothing tastes quite like her smile. you could get drunk on her drink of choice every single night and still wake up each morning with a hangover from hell and an empty heart and aching hands. you have got to stop punching those walls. what is it with you. you and hurting things that only exist to protect you. tell us about that night you got so drunk you swore you were speaking to god. tell us how he listened. how you spoke about her candy eyes and her gum drop lips and golden skin. to look at her was to gaze upon the heavens. he understands. you analogize love making to walking into a church and getting to know each and every pew by name. he takes no offense to this. you ask him if south carolina is better for having her in its bounds. you can't quite explain it but ohio feels a lot less like home now that she's gone. you feel like a drifter. she says there are white sand beaches and sunsets you can't even imagine and entire neighborhoods swallowed up by trees. you want to tell her this broken heart of yours is beginning to ache again. as if it ever stopped. you and god share a laugh at this one. you think no one is listening but you are wrong. all this talk of being in love. she says you are in love with the idea of love but she is wrong and she knows it. so what. the million dollar question. what does it all mean and why. god, why. why her, why this, why here, why now, why. but he only shakes his head. in this he says that the answers are nestled in all the moments you mumble his name. when she is moaning yours, when you are scared, when you are happy, when you are relieved. how every moment with her feels like a culmination of each of these. you understand. you do.

I wrote you a poem,
But you never saw it.
All those years ago,
Folded in my pocket.
It didn't say much.
It was short and it was sweet.
It said just enough,
Explained my thoughts complete.
I can still remember
Just how it goes:
I said that I loved you,
But now you'll never know.

I meant to be cliche,
Slip it in your notebook.
Something you could read
When you were alone, but
I guess I chickened out,
Or perhaps I just forgot
Because the next thing I know
I sent it through the wash.
Couldn't read a thing.
Ruined, had to go.
I wrote that I loved you,
But now you wouldn't know.

Never was the one
To discuss my feelings.
Couldn't open up,
Reveal vulnerabilities.
So instead I wrote them down.
It seemed safe that way.
But I knew if you read it
The result would be the same.
So I never tried again,
I let it go.
Still knew that I loved you,
Relieved you'd never know.

Perhaps it was fate
Or the things I couldn't say,
But we reached that point
Where you went your separate way.
Now I only write
For myself and strangers.
Anonymity means
Very little danger.
And I understand
Why you had to go,
But I'll love you forever,
Even if you never know.