We sat to talk me and my heart,  
We had a chat, about you it was,  
How your absence was so hard,  
Why did you leave? What was the cause?

We sat talking about loving you,  
That as soon as you left I did turn blue,  
My heart was helpless it had no clue ,

Suddenly the brain stepped in and said,  
Talking in a mocking way saying I told you so...
Once again brain was right,
But me and heart we lost light,  
It's hard to admit that brain was right again,


Do comeback please...
Come prove brain wrong....
Me and my heart patiently wait....

When you feel the wall going up between you two,
Slowly at first and reaching 7 stories high,
Know that you have lost.
Know that he has lost interest and is looking elsewhere
for someone else that has smiles like sun rays and moonshine in her eyes.
Know that when you see him look at another girl the way he used to look at you, that you indeed, have lost him.
And you cannot get him back.
When others and even you, question whether they’re in a relationship,
When he stops calling you his princess and starts calling her his queen,
When he talks to her all day long about nothing and only messages you to say, “I hope everything’s okay”,
Know that he no longer cares.
That you had a special place but you lost it,
And the girl that made him feel less lonely, he now spends his nights and days with.

See, the way to see someone’s true colors is to make them wait.
To make them wait months for you to be theirs, even if it’s for your own good, just make them wait.
They will promise to wait at first and then get bored and then leave.
And when they show you their true colors, do not try to repaint them.
Do not try to hang a beautiful picture over their face,
Pack your **** up and move on.
Because you deserve better.
Because the right guy will wait years for the love of his life.
Because he won’t hold someone else’s hand to make the wait easier.
Because if he can’t wait, the gift just wasn’t for him.

mood // The Knowing

-g.e.s.

I want to touch you,
under my red lights,
it used to be because I loved you,
and now it’s because I can't heal without you.
I’m trying to touch you,
but it’s more like grasping for oxygen,
trying to swing at something that isn’t there.
And I’m here writing to you,
4 months later on my bathroom floor,
4:54 AM on your birthday,
and I’m still throwing up when I see you.

Screaming your name into pillows,
but not like the way I did in February.
I feel like I swallow razors when I catch sight of you,
happy, unbothered, holding on to someone you cheated to get,
who do you think you are?
leaving me for nothing,
pretending to be happy,
giving someone else my world,
my love,
my kisses,
but no one really knows what went down between us,
the same way they didn’t understand our love.
And I’m fine with that…
but not really.

I’ve tried drinking wine but the truth is you’re my whiskey,
and though they make me feel mature and elegant,
they’ll never taste like you.
But even you have gotten a bitter taste in my mouth,
when before you just tasted like honey.
Their hands feel different,
their kisses awful,
I feel guilty every time someone holds me,
like I still belong to you and you’d be upset.
But truth is you’re being held right now,
by someone who doesn’t know how to hold you right,
and you’re trying to bend and shape yourself to make everything fit,
to try and feel perfect in her,
when you know she doesn’t have the same feel,
she doesn’t go down your throat as smoothly as I did,
so you make up your face and turn your head,
but I caught a glance and I know how it feels.

I won’t stay caught up for much longer,
I’m just waiting for my psychiatrist to take me off this new round,
because it makes me see you.
It makes me crave you.
It makes me miss you.
I’m just waiting for the anxiety to end,
so I can stop following behind you.
Because while I’m not your ghost anymore,
I’m still your shadow.
Because now I have to pretend like I want to be friends,
when I’m just trying to stop the apprehension when you walk past me,
Like that’s all I am to you.
Your past.

-g.e.s.

He's friendly but not a flirt,
He's not pure but he tries to free his mind from dirt,
He sticks to one woman,
He knows having more only makes him less of a man.
He treats people with respect,
He's usually holding on to the good side an aspect,
He's positive,
His plans are so stable;more like sweetly manipulative,
Life isn't always nice for him,
But he still feels obliged to make a change in the lives of those in his realm.
He's a hardworker,
Such that he qualifies to be a home maker,
He's great but he's not proud,
He's so humble only his actions speak loud.
He's only a saint because he sins and still goes back for repentance,
He's not perfect,and he's brought this to acceptance.

He's the man,

Naked, moaning softly, bathed in sweat,
jaw agape and panting. Such a sight;
a perfect beauty I'll not soon forget.

Charming evening's prelude to a night
where passion grinds your voice to feral growl,
jaw agape and panting.  Such a sight.

The gentle purring now belies the howl
from shattering release that takes you whole
where passion grinds your voice to feral growl.

Your strong yet silken legs enfold my soul,
as you recover life from petite mort,
from shattering release that takes you whole.

No need to contemplate what's still in store,
I'll hold this waking dream until we sleep
as you recover life from petite mort.

Tomorrow's work and worries all will keep,
I'll hold this waking dream until I sleep.
Naked, moaning softly, bathed in sweat,
a perfect beauty I'll not soon forget.