But if I cannot place my faith in love,
how can I trust in myself?

But you can’t spell the word Love
without experiencing an L, pursing it.

As we adorn our hearts with L plates;
forever students in the school of love.

Every first kiss is like a cup of yeast;
raising our hopes for what is to come.

Yet, to yearn for more while offering
less in a relationship, is merely a recipe
for disappointment – a yeast infection.

There’s an imbalance when it comes to
your love life…

Some days my bones feel fractured,
Even where all the bells resonate;
The ravenous bite that indulged
Too deeply – polished by its outlines.

Having faced the forces of nature;
Maybe the element of surprise,
Is not being so surprised at all,
At the relentless cycle of challenges
That perpetually emerge.

Ultimately, we are all merely
Trying to survive.

Even on this long road of thoughts; some days I don’t know my way
with words – as to describe your face; it just drives me so insane.
“You’re so pretty,” feels a bit too plain; so it always bears down on
me, this pressure. A rock in a hard place, and I’m also being pressed
with stones, biting on my words, that I bruised my lip. Slowly sinking
deeper, and letting blood flow – being so afraid of your reflection of
me, staring back from your eyes, as my tears dance along a running
stream. How you’ve become this silhouette of a perfect dream.

But I'm not as deep as I seem to be; just like swimming in a pool, I
first need to find my feet. And I’m only a pebble against your skin;
trying to skip across our conversations, and finding a reason to kiss.
But instead, I'm laughing in the bathroom mirror, letting the echoes
of that room wash me clean. And it would seem in vain to say I
fell in love with you – even as I wear your smile under my skin.

So I quietly let those very six words find their rest, and go back to
my bed, and sleep – cause who the hell really feels the depth of
those words, over a late-night text?

Never too wise to stay up late, with the opposite friend.

The ear bends to sound–
as does the ground, to the man
in the weeds; tangled by their doubts.
Wet eyes, as the sea; stained cheeks
I follow an emptiness with the fullness
of hope; to the bending sounds of knees

click, click!

My body starts to feel like wet pavement –
a couple slip ups, for the mind to easily recall
Anxious slow breaths, exhaling and inhaling
I cry out, “I don’t want to do this life anymore”

Taking a moment to clear out that sound,
bending backwards; but why for them, at all
These inner voices, are all so FREAKING loud  

Wait no, my insecure self, is just talking to itself.

Love isn't always euphoric –
Authentic love is a profound joy;
Unwavering support, those who
Stand as pillars in your life

Supported by one's feet, but...
Love isn't always euphoric –

   Some pillars do fall!

Needless to say, I need less reasons
to feel threatened by you spitting
on my grave; my spirit would still
bloom out a beautiful rose.

You might picture me as a failure
in your mind—so allow me to pose
in front of you, with these charms,
for what you like to suppose.

You only know what you know;
what is revealed on the surface,
of what a person shows.

Yet, if we do not engage in profound
pieces of talk, you don’t know me,
for my ALL.