You say I pulled away.
You're right.
But before I left,
I withered beneath the weight of your storm.

I didn’t mean to become the silence
you dreaded waking up to.
But every slammed door,
every name spat like venom,
taught me how to become invisible.

You think I planned it —
as if my tattoos were eulogies for us,
my piercings an escape route.
No.
They were armor.
Each needle a promise to myself
that I still existed
underneath the noise.

I loved you.
God, I did.
When we laughed,
it felt like we’d invented language.
When we touched,
I thought the world forgave us.

But I was bleeding
while trying to bandage your rage.
And in the quiet after your anger,
I started to disappear.

I wasn’t waiting to leave —
I was hoping you’d notice I was drowning.
But you were too busy
trying to prove you were already underwater.

And I know my hands weren’t clean.
I bit back,
with sarcasm, with silence,
with withdrawal.
We hurt each other
because we didn’t know
how not to.

You were my home.
But I couldn’t survive the fires
you kept lighting inside the walls.

So I left.
And I still ache —
because I wanted us to grow,
not burn.

I read a book about men and anger —
and it clawed into my chest like guilt with teeth.
Not just the loud eruptions,
but the quiet fires I never noticed burning,
the way I smoldered
while pretending I wasn’t heat.

Was I the villain in our ruin?
Is that why I wake up with her face aching behind my eyes?
Why I weeped this morning
from dreaming of her warmth beside me?

Yes, I shouted.
Yes, I shut down.
Yes, I swallowed rage until it poisoned everything we tried to build.
But didn't she light matches too?

She pulled away —
a distance I could feel, even when her skin was close.
Was it all a plan?
was she really “just waiting" to be rid of me?

I wanted forever.
Now all I have is this loop —
the smoking remnants of what was,
what might have been,
what may never come again.

I walk to breathe.
I walk to scream in silence.
I walk to stop myself from picking up the bottle.
From spiraling back into shame’s embrace.

What does it mean when two broken people call each other home?
Was it love? Survival?
Or history?
A scar we made sacred
as she paid the price.

Am I beyond saving?
Is this silence permanent?
Is this pain just penance in disguise?
or is it the weight of change dragging me forward?
The truth is—if I change,
I want it to be for her.
Not for the next empty word called “love.”
I want it to be real this time.
Not performative. Not reactive.

We were passionate, raw,
a force to be reckoned with.

We waged war with hearts still tethered.
Fitted like puzzle pieces carved in chaos—
Two magnets caught in a dance of push and pull.

Still, we were a team. A twin flame.
Bonnie & Clyde.
We loved with force and vibrance.
Peace, and malice.
Wicked and delighted.
We were not the calm,
but the storm that washes away the pain.
So, I pray in the quiet corners of my mind
that she’s somewhere, doing the same—
growing, healing, hurting, hoping.
That this is the cocoon phase.

Before the miracle of us begins again.

When your home is away from home
Your brain feels like the rolling storms overhead. Consuming the night with a crackling roar.
The lightning only briefly ignites the black void that surrounds you.
Every fleeting memory comes with every flash, every strike. There in an instant, gone in the next.
You think you need to find “light in the dark” and your left with this profound feeling
This awe, wonder, a small sense of joy in this void you stand in.
But you remember that lightning is rare at home
You remember how you felt at home
How it felt the same as seeing a bolt of lightning.

You remember when you experienced your first thunderstorm with the one you call home.
You remember that your home would have loved to see this.

You walk dazed and dissociated for miles mulling over the past, your mistakes, your health. You drag on mourning your love.
You ridicule and loath yourself. Thoughts slowly frying in the blistering Midwest heat.

Then days come where there's an overcast.
A cool drizzle.
A comfortable sixty-degree day.
You see fog in the distance, and you can smell moisture in the air.
You stare at a pine tree longer than socially acceptable, knowing it's the closest reminder you have to feeling your roots. Knowing there's a whole rainforest beckoning for you to come back.

You sit at a lake and hear the Puget sound screaming your name. You can almost feel the sand beneath your feet. The waves against your skin. You can see the view vivid and longing in your mind. The sunsets, the mountains, the water, the smell of nature all around.
But then you remember your favorite spots. The countless memories with lovers and friends.
You remember all the conversations, the thrill fueled parties and adventures. You remember her. The hobbies, the quirks, the fun. The passion. The love. You remember she shared the same connection.

You stare at the Rockys and see their beauty. Their grandeur, their vastness.
But the peaks and slopes don't compare
They don't live up to Rainier.
They don't live up to the subtle shades of grey and blue, the snow caps, or the rolling green hills. You want to appreciate it…
But you know the last time you looked at those mountains, who you had brought home.

You miss the lights, the energy, the spirit of your city. The variety of your people. You miss the bars, and venues, and restaurants, the extravagant outings. You miss knowing all the spots, you miss riding the train. You miss the city life. You miss the partying, the dancing, the drugs. You miss her.

But you also miss the city life…
The one that took you down. Took you home.
And you know at this home you have family, but that family can't help you. That family can't love you the same.
You watch the toll you take; the tears swell in their eyes over the person they think you've become,
and you feel ashamed cause you know it's the person you always were.
You're reminded of all your childhood trauma and are thrown into the same environment you spent years escaping.
You feel lost.
Because you are.
Because your home away from home
is no longer a home.

If gestures be great wonders, I'd build you the pyramids.
They'd be as vast and grand as when we gaze into the universe,
telling tall tales of stars.

And It'd be just you and me.

We'd connect the dots in our hearts
Well past twilight, in the charm of the dark.
and pick our thoughts apart.

We'd dance like pups and sing our songs
like the foolish children that we are.
We'd ride the same frequency
revel in our indecencies

We'd breath winds of nostalgia.
reliving vibrant memories.

We'd laugh and joke
Listen to rock and roll,
smoke northern lights and boundless joys
while music vibes with our souls.

We'd fall asleep
trading treats and body heat.

We'd dream of fairy-tale love
until the next time we meet.

And It'd be just you and me.

I know I've said it five hundred times
I hope five hundred is okay
Five hundred words,
Five hundred ways,
to say I love you in a day.
Five Hundred words  that still fall short
Can't think of one to say
Five Hundred words and still not one that truly can explain.

How I feel
and how its real
How I'm supposed to say,
How you make the moon shine,
How you make me flat-line
When you make the birds ring and the trees come to life.

The beauty in your smile
The jewels in your eyes
When you sing with your voice
With the stars in the night

Asking myself where does the time go?
And how you make the breeze blow.

When I dream of a future with you by my side
With our dog in the picture and
these corny *** rhymes
With you on my chest and your hands in mine

Where I'll confess my love
another five hundred times.

She said baby pick your poison
We'll silence all the voices
we'll **** the Paranoia
we're hopin'
we're hopin'

We don't know where we've been goin'
but I know that we've been glowin'
we're rollin'
we're rollin'
we're floatin'
we're floatin'

Shorty you and I was getting high and living up the moment
saw your eyes and they had me feeling golden
oh hold it
Didn't know where it was goin
I'm broken

I'm not one to tell a lie, my cup was overflowin'
hit my line a couple times and I was falling
for it
Falling
oh ****

I just want to freeze this moment
I just want to hold it
I just can't leave this moment
and now I'm frozen


I said shorty pick your poison,
all the **** the we were smoking
all the fear and all the loathing
Wasn't loving only coping

And I been feeling so numb
pale skin n frozen blood
nicotine
in my lungs
falling in and
out of love

And I know I ain't living right
but you know I'll pull up when it's right
and I won't deny I'm living quiet
on the low
dreaming coast to coast.

She said baby pick your poison
We'll silence all the voices
we'll **** the Paranoia
we're hopin'
we're hopin'

We don't know where we've been going
but I know that we've been glowin'
we're rollin'
we're rollin'
we're floatin'
we're floatin'

and she's been living on the low
said baby pick your poison
if it's me then I'll be goin'
if it's me then I'll be goin'

I Can't accept the truth baby, ignorance is bliss. I can't escape the memories of all that this is. Rather let them fade away to champagne thrills, falling off the edge of abyss.
Rather let them fall like I fell for you. Like the ashes, burning off of this cigarette.

Cause I knew it from the start.
Every second, every time. I knew you'd break my heart every time we spoke a rhyme.
I knew it'd fall apart.
Couldn't say that you were mine.
But that's just want I want to say because I know it's time.
So ask me how I feel.
I can't tell what's real.
Insist that we would fall apart until you sealed the deal.
I wish you said loved me like you said you used to feel.
and I wish youd call me baby
cause you know I'd hope it's real.

But how can I love you if I never loved myself? Like everyday I wake up wishing I was someone else.
Cause everyone I know has seen a better side of hell.

And you know I fall apart, in the darkness by myself.

I'm crawling on the edge of this chasm
Right along the brink of abyss
Spiraling down a void
Even light cant escape

Who Am I?

Pain turns to resentment when it comes to affection

Optimists are doomed to the fate of cynics