I am an open journal.
With a lock long lost.
My pages, riddled with ink,
Lay exposed.
Wandering eyes waver from page to page.
Taking in the tales of lost loves.
Cheering for the stories of triumph.
Learning from listed lessons.
Come all who wish to witness,
Stories of me.
Stories we wrote.

A cover so unassuming.
How to even judge,
Something with so little to show for.
Title-less, addressed to no one.
The grooves and creases,
Spread across the binding.
Worn.
Lived.
Better days,
A distant memory.
Be gentler than those who payed no mind.

Pages that lay uneven.
Torn asunder,
Blacked out or burned
Many, left untouched. 
In places, the ink
has bled through.
Some made to be beautiful.
Others, defiled.
These pages, all precious.
Even the pages
I'd like to forget.

Sable seas of ink,
Flow onto parchment.
Bringing life to desolate pages.
With it
The tellings that brought this book to you.
The lies.
The hurt.
The truth.
The remedy.
A reminder to be weary of people,
The exalted who hold the pen above you.

There will come a time
When this book is shut,
Shelved for the last time.
Yet, these stories can drift on the wind.
From lips to ears.
From old to young.
The life I lived.
The Stories,
We wrote them.
My world within paper.
Am I the book, or the stories that began on those pages.

We spent the night finding the perfect spot.
Only to be too distracted by the conversation,
To notice the sunrise was behind us.

Footprints in the sand
A tapestry of our waltz
Witnessed by starlight

Tonight I'll crank the volume.
Just enough to block you out.
Maybe a little more.
How else will I fall asleep?

The words left unsaid.
Words deep within the hallow.
They smolder with an intense heat.
Demanding change.
Demanding freedom.
Demanding validation.
Its flame tearing into me.
The rasp of its scream deafens all rational thought.
I, the fool, stumble in its direction.
As the words ring aloud, I find myself
Ashen and burned.

* * *

The stillness of your voice.
Unfazed by the violent blaze.
Your expressions permeate like spilling tides.
Granting tranquility.
Granting patience.
Granting pause.
The waves wash over me.
Soothing tones give way to a clear conscience.
You, the faultless, guide the weary.
As you speak, I find myself
In the presence of peace.

It can be done.
A poem without heartache.
I can fill it with hopefulness and desire.
The void isn't there if I fill it with life.
The rain doesn't fall unless I will it to.
If words can hurt, words can heal.
If I close my eyes I wont see I'm alone.
oops
I'll try again tomorrow.

I've taken your flaws and listed them in my mind.
I've tried to think of every reason not to love you.
The way you hurt yourself and others.
Unapologetic, unapproachable, unassuming.
Ugly inside and out.
The beauty in you is hard to find so you put in on paper.
It'll never be enough.
You're alone for good reason.
If there was good in you once,
It wasn't around for long.
Die already.

You said you never meant it.
But when I told you,
I love you.
I did.
Not all of us
Are unfeeling husks.
We are still human.
We hold close what we find dear.
We hold on to the few things we need
To survive as our worlds collectively burn around us.
How was I to know by the time our paths crossed
You had already given up the fight.
So yes,
I mourn.
I mourn the piece of myself that I gave to you,
And thought
You had cherished.

I lie to you,

because a world where I bare my vulnerabilities

is the world where

I find myself

abandoned.

I love the rain you bring.

Hold me beneath the deluge,

Deny me my breath.

Pull me deeper.

Let our tears feed the torrent.

When your storm subsides,

Abandon me ashore.

A familiar gaze
They watch with blank expressions
An ache of absence

I gaze into the depths.
Its answers are truthful.
If I had the power
To reach within,
To change.
I would.

The ones who walk with shields.
They seek unnamed prophets.
The sorrows that hindered them.
Mold us.
Their lies.
Fool us.

Seekers of wisdom and humility.
Burn our lungs.
Empty us into cups.
The answers
Will free us,
But evade me.

Turn off the lights.
I'm frayed.
Cut me loose.
Take my strength.
Hold me.
Ground me.

The eyes are the window to the soul?

When you look at me do you see the cracked pane

Of a heavy prison door?

The image distorted beyond recognition,

It must be apart of your imagination.

The smoke and agony behind that panel of glass.

With a soul so tainted,

How could anyone smile?

Fiendish wires driven deep into the mind.
Subsisting on the chaos it compels unto others.
Craving lechery and deference.
When resisted the coils tighten.
Its weighted vines make it difficult to stand.
I know what it fears,
We are the same.
The threads are not mine.
If I controlled the them I'd do the same.
We are puppeteers.

My skin contains your every utterance.
Your malcontent,
Your affronts.
My failures.

It's a love so bitter.
I'm weak to it.
The scent,
It lingers.

I bleed through the bandages.
My hands,
Impossible to grasp.
You let me fall.

We hurt together.
Harmonious are the cries and whimpers.
While you tear yourself apart,
I pour myself into you.