His "I love you" came swiftly.
Like the monsoon pouring down on a leaky roof
Those three words broke through my defences.
At first they were an ambrosia;
They sustained my life and our relationship.
At least for a short time.

Then "I love you" became an excuse;
For absences, and purpose-filled accidents.
And I ignored the warning signs, the flashing lights.
I pretended like "I love you" was enough...

...But it wasn't.
His "I love you"s were like band-aids on bullet wounds;
Like using play dough to fix cracks in concrete walls.
But I rationed our good memories,
I held on as tight as I could to our love
And watched as it slipped through my fingers.

His "I love you"s became poison,
That seeped deep into my bones,
And turned blue skies grey,
And turned light into darkness,
And slowly killed whatever semblance of love
I fooled myself into thinking we had left.

What would you think
If you saw my scars?
If you spotted
Those silvery markings
Along my leg?
Would you be angry,
Or hurt,
Because I kept it from you?
Would you be disturbed,
Or shocked,
At the fact that I had done it?
Would you be confused,
Wondering why?
I don’t know.
I hate to keep things from you.
Hate
Hate
Hate it.
But I feel like
I can’t tell you.
I can’t put you through the worry,
The anxiety.
Because honestly,
I’m okay.
Those markings were simply inflicted
In a moment where I wasn’t.
Once I talk about it,
It seems bigger than it is,
And I couldn’t stand to let this
Scare you away,
To let my old hurt
Become your new.
I am sorry,
My love,
But I feel trapped.
I feel
As if my lips are sown shut,
But maybe that’s for the best.

Call a                          doctor/ plumber/ priest
My heart is               broken/ leaking/ deceased
My life is                   worthless/ so much better/ over
I'm going to              **** myself/ tell your wife/ Dover
How could you         leave me/ not know/ lie?
I hope you                return my stuff/ come back/ die
I'll never                   forget you/ forgive you/ go away
I need                        closure/ a DNA test/ to tell you I'm gay
Your                           face/ crotch/ top of your back
Is                                so beautiful/ lumpy/ unusually slack
Your                           ex/ mother/ best friend from school
Always made me      great coffee/ feel inadequate/ drool
I will                           miss you/ **** you/ stalk you forever
That way we can      be friends/ get away with it/ be together
I'm sorry                   you did this/ I did this /we failed
I promise to               pay you/ dye it back/ get you bailed
Please don't               leave me/ show the Polaroids/ write or call

(*delete as appropriate, just delete it all.....)

Sadness
An empty and physical being
It chokes her while letting her breathe
But when she goes for that breath
Her hearts aches with pain
That pain she feels
Is a result of her own judgemental insecurities
And The shameful lies that surround her
She asks herself why
Her smooth dark skin asks why
As The pure silver blade cuts through her skin like butter
the crimson blood seeps from the thin open slits in her wrist
The feeling that fills her heart is no long pain
But crimson red guilt and resentment
a new form of herself emerges
Like the open sea she is filled with dirt but all she sees is the purest blue
She tells herself she is okay
She tells her mind she is okay
Her friends fawn over her contagious laughter
that fills a room like a strand of golden sunlight
But little do they know she is infected with a parasite  
That causes her to exchange her own blood for happiness
Sadness
An empty and physical being
It chokes her while letting her breathe
But when she goes for that breath
Her hearts aches with pain
Sadness

A
Pen
without
Ink,
Is
Like
A heart with out love,
Both empty, unable to show how they feel...

It's hard to write a poem
When there's nothing going on
It's hard to think of what to say
When you've given most of it away

As poets we never scratch the surface
We delve within, disclose our deepest sin
We crave our pain, declare it's for our art
Yet more often than not have no idea where to start

But start we do and start we must
A deep desire in all of us
To spill out on the written page
What little bit we have tried to save

Ink now is the poets blood
Fragments of self pour from within
Silence is our safety net
To stop us from bleeding out

Although it's hard to write a poem
With nothing going on
We still find words to form a verse
From deep within our marrow bone

Work © Mike Hauser & © Sia Jane

Im sorry.

Im sorry, that im not what you expected of me.
Im sorry, that you are stuck with me and me with you.
Im sorry, that Im not the bear to fight the fear, or there to wipe the tear.
Im sorry, Im the needle on the neck and the riddle in the head.
Im sorry, Im the beer to bring up the tear.
Im sorry, Im the frame to capture the shame.

But you are the light, that just shine too bright, that just might, make me pick another fight.