We meet again for a friends night out  
but we both know how this will end.

We dine and laugh and are happy to see one another,
But we know where this will end.

We share stories, dreams and fears,
But we both know how this will end.

We walk through parks and bask in each others presence,
But we both know how this will end.

We'll delay the end of our time together asking as possible,
But we both know how this will end.

You'll hold me so tight I could merge my body and soul with yours,
But we both know how this will end.

We'll say good bye with sorrow and promise in our voices and hearts,
But we both know how this will end.

You will travel home and I will too,
We both knew this is how it would end,
Until next time.


© Misty Bishop-Martiss

You are like a blood stain on my soul
No matter how I try, you will never truly be gone.
I can make you fade, but you are embedded on me
Others may not see you, but I know you are there
I know exactly your location and shape
I know how you got there
And
I know you will never leave
Even though you might have appeared to 'ruin' me, I will happily wear you every chance I get.
You have stained me,
But in the best possible way


© Misty Bishop-Martiss

Be it the pain I feel when I realize I have lost you,
Or the sorrow I feel at the lost memories.
It might be the anger I feel at the situation I am trapped in?
The love we used to share, that is gone, gave me plenty to write about.
The nights that we will never share, those did too.
The time I spend here, in the home I wish I shared with you,
All of these things gave me plenty to write about,
To Long over, to dwell on the loss.
Now, I still have these things in my life
Yet, my Muse is gone.
The pain is here, the art is lost.
What to do?


© Misty Bishop-Martiss

Were those hours wasted?
The ones that I spent thinking about you.
The ones that I spent wishing we could be together.
The ones that I spent dreaming about you.

Were the hours wasted,
The ones that I spent writing your last name.
The ones that I spent wondering what a life with you would be like.
The ones that I secretly spent planning our first holiday letter.

How can I face that those hours were wasted?
The ones that I spent wishing we could escape together.
The ones that I spent wishing we had met 10 years before we did.
The one I spent missing you.

I have to face it, as unpleasant as it is.
We will never escape together.
We will never have a holiday letter.
I will never write my name with yours at the end.
I can miss you, but it doesn't get me anywhere.

I have to face what we have now, is all that we will ever have.
Alas, a good friend is nothing to be upset about... Unless there could have been so much more.


© Misty Bishop-Martiss

These words that are stuck in my head,
That i wish would flow freely from my lips,
Only run tripping around my mind.

I write you pages and pages of letters when I should be studying.
I think up all these things I'll never say when I should be sleeping.
Worse yet, I picture your face and I hear your voice when I am with other people.

When you are around I am on awe of you, of me, and of us,
The one thing that I am not is poetically speaking these words and thoughts and desires to you.
What I am is painfully silent and reserved.

I didn't used to be. Before I knew you loved me, then knew you could not bare to love me any longer, I was open, I was funny, in was me, the me that made you love me, before you couldn't.

All these words, I am scared to say to you, lest I loose the connection that I still have to you.
So I say it here, in this poetic free for all, knowing you will never see it because I will need show me. But these readers, these reasers, some of whom share my angst, and others that just sympathize, with them I will share. With them it is safe to pour out my heart and my rational and irrational fears. Here I am safe. And here my words flow like torrent rivers from my soul to this cyber page.


© Misty Bishop-Martiss

Chin up galant knight, you are a beacon of inspiration to many, not least of all to this fair maiden.


© Misty Bishop-Martiss

I'm emailing to tell you I'm not going to email you anymore.
I'm calling to tell you I'm not going to call you anymore.
I'm writing an actual letter to tell you that I am not going to write you actual letters anymore.
I'm dropping by to tell you that I'm not not going to drop by anymore.
I'm loving you...
I don't know how to not do that anymore?


© Misty Bishop-Martiss