Rockie Jan 3
when I look in the mirror
I don’t like what I see
I look at you
and see the things I love
and yet all the things I hate about myself
because when I look at you
nobody knows how much it hurts to love
and to want nothing but the best for you
nobody knows,
just by looking at me,
about how much it hurts to be the person I am
and to be with you,
someone who I have always aspired to be.
nobody, not even you,
knows what that feels like.
Rockie Oct 2017
I look into your eyes
And see what I desire most
Smiling back at me
Rockie Jul 2017
What a time to be alive;
Where your skin can bleed like leaves
In the first fires of Autumn day;
Those little droplets formed from hatred,
Spilling out onto the pale fields of your body.
They say that you are sacred,
Holy beyond belief,
Yet they do not tempt to tell you,
Of all things to keep secret,
That it is also the thing you hate the most.
And so, without help or information to cure your temptations,
You pick up the blade, or scissors, or compass,
(Whatever sharp object does most please you)
And bleed.
You bleed until you have bled the bad feelings away,
Much like Autumn has bled away those dead browning leaves;
That's what happens.
You bleed.
Rockie Jul 2017
A hand,
Outstretched for once it seemed,
Is a gift.
A gift of love,
A gift of electric butterflies on your palm.
The feeling, it seemed,
Never left;
The feeling that something so beautiful
Could still possibly be yours;
It is either the butterflies do not want to leave,
Or they are replaced, yearned for, day after day.

A hand is a wonderful thing.
Funny things, yet wonderful too,
A warm to comfort a cold;
A big to envelope a small;
A lover to intertwine with another lovers.

A hand;
They are creatures to be treasured.
Rockie Jan 2017
There was once a girl
With star print leggings
And flower print boots
She fell in love with a boy,
He had a naturally downturned mouth
And clothes to match his persona.
She fell in love the way his mouth curved up,
As though nothing could make him happier,
In the instant his mouth touched hers.
She fell in love the way his knuckles felt under her fingers,
The way his skin felt against hers,
And the way he smelled when she pressed her cheek against his.

There was once a girl,
Who traded hoodies with the boy she loved,
Just so they could keep a portable smell of each other.

There was once a girl,
And she loved the way he turned shyly towards her and asked,
"Will you go out with me?"

There was once a girl,
And she fell in love.
Rockie May 2016
Move on,
To someone who can do
So much more for you.
Move on to somebody who'd happily
Talk for hours on end
And give an explanation as to why they said 'goodbye'
When you can see they'd happily talk to others.
Move on.
There are others.
Others you can talk to.
One less person won't do any harm.
  May 2016 Rockie
You deserved a long goodbye,
a long and tight hug to force out tears
and maybe un-stifle our hearts.

The words, I love you,
had me in a choke hold.

Two friends,
who hurt
each other
like lovers.

I tried to be an automaton; stolid faced,
but I lost my grace.

I wish now that
I had remembered
to come up for air.
Or remembered,
that it was through open hearts
that we entered each other's lives
so long ago.

Maybe I did not love you at all,
because I didn't try to hold on to you.

Maybe I loved you too much,
& maybe that is why I let you go.

Now I just want to know:
How do you open at the close?
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