I never noticed
That history repeats itself
Yet you remain the same

Said the same about my past
As I say to him now

He was different;
Or I thought he would be,
But I turned out wrong

Made false assumptions
And woke to the blonde in my bed.
Loved him plenty for two whole years.

He is turning out to not be the one,
instead he is a repeat of thoughts in my head

You are the constant
You can walk in, but
At some point

You must quit walking out.

poor decisions I’ve made
have disgraced the way we work.
I want your soft shoulder to be
the first thing that I see
when we get up.
instead I find
a greying old stuffed animal
with broken beady eyes.

getting over yourself
is a breakup in which
you learn to love yourself again

Warning label says:
"Do not leave alone for
too long" because she will
climb into her own brain,
shutting the door behind her

you must go in and
wiggle the latch
pull her out and
remind her who she is
if her thoughts consume her
you may never get her back

Am I ready to
throw the old towel in
and love somebody new?

heave into
my structure
with the force
of a calamity
the clashing of
bare skin the
shaking of
metal bed,
low breathing
breaks the
silence and
meshes with
the clanking,
one last
shove before
we collapse
as if each
other is the
floor after
a long
hard day's
work

you gotta know
I won't sit forever,
waiting for your voice
to greet my ears
in the morning,
or for your lips
to grace my cheek

I wonder if I'll ever feel again
a romantic touch, or if I'm stuck
with the heat of the ****
forever

I begun painting my nails
so that when I am hanging onto the real world
with nothing but my fingertips,
at least my hands will look pretty
before I fall

We pretend to be adults making consensual decisions.
Yet there is the underlying question:
What will our friends think?
The truth is that
They won't think a thing if you
don't tell them anything.

I wield my new heart
as if it is
my personal body guard

The only way to be truly whole
is if you fracture yourself
first, and learn to
pick up the pieces
to put the puzzle
back again

I miss familiarity;
soft skin pulled over
cheekbones,
red lips poised to speak.

What came out of the mouth
changed as do the seasons.
Summer got the worst
of me, it seems;
angry words at best.

I extend my wrist now
in this blustery fall
to a fresh face,
hoping it will lead me
to unweathered bliss.

Winter will come
as the beginning
of something new.

If only finding someone
to be with the rest of your life
was simply about their taste in music
or their choice of television shows

It is not a competition;
but if this were the Olympic games
of wrecked relationships,
I would have the gold medal
while you sit in the stands

the fear of being content with life stems from
convincing yourself that as soon as things are
going well and you grin sheepishly at the people
you love,

that angry hand called depression pulls you back under
momentarily reminding you that
things falter and moods change

every time
I drive away from you
with your scent lingering on my
clothes and skin, a tease,

I feel the smile creep up involuntarily

instantly regretting that I could feel
any amount of happiness from you

I loathe your power for a moment
shaking your perfect kiss out of my mind
like a wet dog shakes dry

I cannot think that we might be
happy because in a matter of a split second
it will fall apart

we made the agreement:
the second you drop to your knee
and take her to the chapel,
I will be running in like the
beautiful heroine
in a classic romance novel

my heart stays still to remember this is about use
emotionless nothing, yet our foreheads touch in that moment of sweet sweat and heavy breaths
I try to hold it in laying next to you in the bed but
running my fingers through the blonde hair on your head
makes me want to tell you everything again

I see the vicious cycle.
A culprit of my own self loathing.
Yet I fall for it.

always waiting for that
fatal flaw

not a minor one,
but the one that ends it all

I know it will come
and I will give up

on anything new,
keep on reliving the past

after all, it's
the only thing that lasts

when one door closes
it doesn't all the way
it is cracked open
in case you want me to
come in and stay
for now I can peek in
and see straight through
to the inner version of you
you can put on a mask
and play the part
but you're the same
as you always were
and until we push it closed
I'll peer into
the door of truth and
she will be the one who's fooled

Did I miss something?
Four years ago I'd beg
for you to come back to me,
and reconvene into the faithful
pet boyfriend on a leash

Now the chemistry is clear;
yet the feelings disappeared

A shame, I think;
we could have grown up
to have something stronger
than the whirlwind love
we had as teens.

move on for good
from the romanticized
day dream about the
strawberry blonde who
never would be?

the final leaf
drifts off an oak tree
as the snowflakes
wait on the cloud's
starting line
far above,
hoping to be
the first one
to hit the ground
and win
against the Fall

the pedestal
on which he rests
remains across the lakes
atop the fruited plains
of the midwest

he is unwilling to share
with the East Coast brat;
the blonde who has made
a home in my chest

he complains, yet makes no push
to topple the boy over
and take over the nest

I ask myself now:
hundreds of miles over
four blurry years
what fight is left?

Can't establish the texture of his hair in words.
Detached from envisioning the exact shade of blue
in his eyes.
Unable to recollect the precise placement of the freckles
on his shoulders.
At one point I could sense each individual thing
as if it was my own.
What does it mean?

There has been enough distance between
that these things
can fade away
without a
trace

What I say bounces
off of you and back onto me
I reabsorb my own words
into my bloodstream

A straightlaced blonde is on my bed
Instead of a wild curly brunette,
   rolling a joint on a dorm room desk
Aryan-raced pale hair
  on an attention-deficit head
Cold feet covering mind in the pink sheet
   under which we rest.
I would enjoy the plain
   light skin on mine
If the past's dark eyes ceased to shine.

Never in the right place at the right moment.
Always a servant to time,
never enough but always too much,
too few minutes to decide
who I want to be
or where I want to go
and I remain in the wrong place
at the incorrect hour
and I'll never know who's waiting there
because there's only so many
ticks on a clock
and time won't freeze
for those who are too early
or too late
and I miss opportunities
to find my fate
and instead rest on the clock's face
left with no choice
but to wait

I want to know you.
to your core.
the gentle chest.
I want to insert myself there and
breathe your breaths

I am a young adult.
I left behind the years of:
the same faces every day,
phone calls every night,
crawling through open windows
in the summertime.

As the years keep concluding,
each faster than the last,
I ask myself after a bottle of
cheap wine:
Would I ever go back to that time?