I've been called many things
Unsavoury and unkind
Words that strangle what little hope
I've stored in myself
What little light
That's been left
A flame so heavily guarded
Yet barely burning

I've been called many things
Crazy
Sometimes I crumble within myself
Forgetting where I am
Who I am
Who I've been
Who I could be
Wishing I could just spotaneously
Not be

I've been called many things
Emotionally draining
How is it that I feel everything?
And then nothing?
Instantaneously

I just want to feel again
I just want to feel real
I just want to remember that
I'm more than these names
These things
These afterthoughts that
For some reason
You decided to impart on me

I've been called many things
Things I didn't want
Things that aren't me
Things that barely touch the idea of me

Among these things
These verbal illustrations of my personhood
Disconnect
Alienating and cold
Misconstrued and yet so sharp
Ambiguous yet so sure

I have been called many things
But never yours

If my Valentine you won't be,
I'll hang myself on your Christmas tree.

He,
is much like the moon.
Not belonging to me,
not belonging to anyone,
an ever-changing spirit,
I can never fully grasp,
that is He.

He,
is like the ocean's shifting tide.
Sometimes so close,
sometimes so far,
pulling me into his arms,
and drowning me in the depth of his soul,
that is He.

Trembling fingers trace the contours of your body,
starting from the straight edge of your jaw,
down to the smooth ***** of your bare chest,
and over the sinewy muscles of your forearms.

I inhale softly,
watching as the pale morning light permeates through the curtains,
falling over your body like a canopy,
committing to memory the quintessence of your being.

Not knowing how much longer I can stay,
aware of the unraveling of cords that bind us,
I desperately hoard the precious fragments of you,
to lock up, weigh down, and toss into the abyss of my soul.

"You are so beautiful", I'd whisper as you sleep,
somewhere off in your dreams,
far away from me.

I'll press my lips against yours for the last time,
savoring the taste of your breath as I stand up to leave.

"It's not you. It's me", will be the pathetic excuse I'll give.
I'll cut you off my contacts,
and block you on my phone,
because darling, I want you to hate me,
until I no longer feel like home.

When the moment comes that I'm finally ready,
I'll unblock you and ring you up.
You'll probably answer me with crude, heated words,
or maybe you won't pick up at all.
"My dear, you are so beautiful",
I'd whisper anyway,
before letting myself fade away into oblivion,
so I can be reborn as a ray of sunlight,
pouring over your body as you make love to someone else.

I don't understand this complexity we have,
because sometimes I feel like we have everything under control,
and then the next moment,
control doesn't exist.

Sometimes I feel like I'm fighting against the waves;
pulling me in and pushing me out,
rocking me around however it wills.
Maybe I should just let the sea take me where it wants to;
just floating around with no resistance,
only to have the waves subside,
leaving things in mute tranquility.

It's 4.47am,
We promised each other we'd try to sleep at 3.08am,
But I'm consumed by thoughts of you,
And this happiness and affection that'***** us out of nowhere;
Scares me.
I fear not a change of your heart,
For I've been there before,
Walked on that shaky floor,
I fear inadequacy,
You meteor of a person,
I want you to have the best,
And with no intent of self deprecation,
No tolerance for being told I'm worth it,
I know I will fall short,
I love you more than any emotion I've ever known,
But I want to feel okay about you loving me too.
Good night

kisses with air blown out like toxic gas from poisonous plants set aflame;
he burns me slowly.
and I take it in,
feeling it like rays of sunshine
beaming softly on my skin.

my mouth tasted of rust,
of blood,
from the acid that washed over my tongue.
kiss me more.
it doesn't hurt, my love, I swear.
(but truth be told, everything hurts,
so with what do I compare?)

i don't remember how it went, not exactly

i was without rest
or reason or hope
or anchor
and when i reached, my fingertips
couldn't feel
could hardly touch
forget grasping on to anything
i was a raincloud, heavy and aching to spill
but i had sunlight under my skull
and it made my brain burn
and the light poured through the cracks

it felt only right to hammer away
to just let my mind float like it needed to
to be bright
or be like a flood
like something shattered, slammed hard again and again against a wall, something broken over and over and over and over
like a piggy bank
hoping it's worth it
hoping it isn't just
hollow
inside