I dreamt that I'd tell you,
  I dreamt I'd convince you.
I dreamt you would love me
and I too would love you.
I dreamt of perfection,
a dream so romantic.
I dreamt you would smile
and carefully panic.
I dreamt you would hug me.
  I dreamt we would both see,
together we're better -
  I dreamt you weren't choosy.
I dreamt up the ways
of how I could tell you.
I dreamt up bouquets
and a time and place too.
I dreamt that I told you.
  I dreamt that I could do.
I dreamt that it happened.
  I dreamt of a breakthrough.

instead i told you
at 3am   drunk   on facebook
*and i took it back the next morning

Take your medication darling you are no better
than the lies you tell
and theres a light inside us all
that only dogs can smell
-- even they get their skulls smashed in
In a house of glass of rubies and jewles
in a world where the sun doesn't set
I am blinded by the harshness
of it
too much of a good thing
is never a good thing
haha
smell me now
smell me now
feel your
pulsating
-something else that taste like the memory of you
because once someone is gone
they've never existed
not even your corpse
looked like you
now you sway from clouds
from that same noose you built of maple wood
and Tony's scars--- honey
baby please
but sweetheart
you know I hate those names
sweet pea
Put a gun to my head and tell me im beautiful
I can breathe like you
I poked my finger into your unflinching eye
not a yelp in surprise, darling
people are lemon tainted goldfish
bitter and boring
(I should really try not to use the word and so much but sometimes things don't make sense- and we need connectives to explain them)
explain this.
But cat's know this of humans
they are born with the innate knowledge that
people are **** they will never love you for long
that human loyalty is fickle
impermanent
so they daze off indifferent
independent
while dogs will chase you around, crying
when you are gone
I am a dog
woof woof
bark for me baby
you little *****
on the floor
I am still trying to make your feet reach the floor
But the noose was wound too tightly around that lamp
you had pretty feet
I always looked at hands

If I could lay under you and catch your death as it fell
I would swallow it and leave it there to rot
where all the dead things are
I looked for a heartbeat but there was none
crystal windows reflected blue skin we were swimming under water
this aint no fairytale

i don’t want to love you
anymore
i’d rather love books
and words
and the sea
when it rages
i’d rather love
adventure and
late nights
filled with smiles

i don’t want to hide
anymore
i’d rather fly
to a far away mountain
and scream
at the top of
a blue peak
i’d rather explode
with virtue
like a light—
a star
who has met
it’s end

i don’t want to love you
anymore
i don’t want
the sun to fall
i don’t want
my coffee to go cold
or my cigarettes
to wage war
on my lungs
but there’s little to do
when the universe
twists
in it’s inevitable ways

"I want to push you so far away
that the look in your eyes
no longer causes me to question
your love
         and yet
I want to hold you
            to me
tightly,
fiercely,
until we are both somehow lost
in the way that you make me feel."
                                                          ­     she says to me.

firm fingertips tracing the curve of my stomach.
soft lips kissing the swell of my hips.

(I say nothing.)

Get your hand
off of my thigh,
it does not thrill me.

It makes me try to recall
the last time that I shaved.

But you seem less concerned
with the light fuzz
that could possibly be covering my thighs
and more interested in finding out whether or not I'm wearing a bra beneath this shirt.

I'm not.

But I'm leaving to go home
and shave
before you have the chance to find out.

Read me, in the elixir of life,
have a slice of duality pie.
Behind lined ivory,
is someone you call you
and I call me.

Read me, in a tear of sadness,
orbs of memories stored
in genetic madness.

Read me, in the dog-eared page
the leaf that quiets my mind
and makes me whole again.

Read me, in my racing thoughts
bipolar existence is more difficult
than not.

Read me, in the grip of melancholy
revisit the wrist scars
of folly.

Read me, in the breastplate of armor
the era of my belief
in chivalry and honor.

Read me, in the time of sepia
tradition fueled
by dreams and dementia.

Read me, in the tip of a candles flame
passions burn bright,
yet I wear no others name.

Read me, at the foot of an altar
murmuring prayers, "...lead my paths..."
or I will falter.

Read me, in an open palm
outstreched, open to you
and calm.

Read me, in the fools smile
the joy will last
only a while.

Read me, in the clear walkway
steps number
all my days.

Read me, in the shattered glass
anger subsides
down to simmer and it will pass.

Read me, in the inkwell bright
the pen has punctured me
felled by might.

Read me, in the moonlight there
lie to me,
tell me you care.

The past just sits there
in the corner of forgetting
and hums an old song.
He swings his foot
and taps his fingers.
He tries to pretend
that he is not fading away.
I have the pleasure
of ignoring him
in a rather sensible fashion,
having been down that road before.

                   Ida Werrett