They say the envious will have their vying eyes wired shut,
and their lips sealed like empty sepulchers.
And yet, in spite of this,
I think I’ll covet you until the end of my days
For if I cannot look upon your face and feel it { mine }
                                                             ­                    I’d rather not see

And if I cannot say your name, and ******* { claim }
                                                             ­                    I’d rather not speak.

Covetous?
Perhaps

Envious?
Always.

there are two types of girls,
or so I was told:
church girls and
bad girls, and my mother
said this with such finality it was
clear they were mutually exclusive.

of course,
you know this is
Not True;
you once characterized yourself as
"the type of 'church girl' to light a
blunt in the bathroom (just sayin)" and
that single quote says more about you than
all this fragile wording, this silica dust
heated and wrought into intricacies and
metaphor and conceit.
You
are far more than
a bad girl,
are far more than
a church girl,
will never be
my girl
and this is how it should be.
you are not
to be domesticated
a la Robin Thicke; you are
uncontrollable, your lust and
disdain for monogamy
twin hurricanes, destroying
New Orleans in a heartbeat and
rendering FEMA
impotent in the next.

there are two types of girls:
other girls, and
You.

Lonely thorns,
Have caressed me,
And pierced me.

With extended arms,
They reached out,
Felt me beneath the skin,
And felt the agony.

Then they bloomed,
Sparkling flowers,
Gifting me,
A bouquet of joy.

Watching me smile,
They rejoiced,
Danced around,
And I danced along.

The million arms,
Dug into me;
And my heart soared,
Reaching out,
Every pore,
Till I was,
A loving being,
And they,
Were the thorny me.

She told me I was fragile and didn’t have a capacity for emotion. Well *******. She had the most beautiful brown eyes, they made my knees weak. Shattered and disillusioned, I had fallen in love. Compliments are nice, but hookers are cheaper in the long run. Beer is good, ******* is great. My weeping soul could not make the difference out of two bottles of beer or two hookers that were so blown out of their mind, even I looked handsome. After listening to so many ominous records, I had come to the conclusion of defeat.

People seem to think
That I spend most of my time
Alone
But that isn't quite true
I have a constant companion
In the form of crippling self doubt
In guilt, anxiety, and a hollow resignation

People seem to think
That I spend most of my time
Alone
If only that were the case.

I've done and am doing
everything I can to avoid you
and save you from feeling uncomfortable
standing in line for drills, I'll give you
almost a ten-foot berth
it surprises and shocks me
when I still see your face
looking slightly disgusted
or when you and your sister make eye contact
I can't help but wonder if you've deduced it,
figured out, that though
I have no right to be jealous and hurt
I still am
and though
you do not belong to me
I love you like someone suffocating in the heat
who only occasionally gets a breath of cold air
and even then, it is just a trickle
for I am dying to stay away from you
dying when I keep you close
my heart is struggling, limply pounding
frail against my ribs, there's nothing left of me
because its all for you, I changed myself
a named bullet
or a placard on a seat at a table
saying 'here, this one's for you'
my mannerisms have changed
my dance, my walk, my voice, my sense of humor
consciously or subconsciously,
I have branded my soul
molded it into a you-shaped whole
but then
you never liked being told what to do,
did you?
so I turn away, I walk on the opposite side
I never want you to feel pressured or like you have to hide
I dance far away from you
It's not a matter of 'time to bide'
it's about you and your decisions
that you have your alone time,
despise being labeled,
your wants are completely yours,
defy my understanding;
I'll never serve them out loud to you, you'd hate that
all I can do is quietly avoid, conceal
because I'd give my life to make you happy
and fill your needs, objectively
for I've come to terms with the stark reality of love
and your plans, blueprints of what and whom you're going to be
and how they don't ever include me.

My heart is dead for all to see. You're just blind. I've lost my mind and crossed the line too many time. The devil may be reached but never touched. Reach out. Well done.