I dream of running
grabbing a bag
disappearing
no longer held
by your golden tether
and pretty lies.

I dream of escape,
sweet freedom mine.
Where my name no is longer a curse on your lips
and your eager hands cannot reach my tattered skin.

I dream of fleeing
quick footed and silent,
leaving but a twisted photograph of our finest hour
and nothing of the me you thought you knew.

These dreams magnify my imprisonment
within your passionless walls.
I am trapped, this I know,
flailing helplessly,
entwined within your love-struck loathing.
Despised,
Seeing every piece of myself shatter
as the silence screams my name
too weary now to pick up the pieces
and bind them to my still beating heart

Do you see her in your dreams?
I hope so.

Love is tacky.
Love is cheap.
Love is scrolling through an endless amount of ****** online dating profiles
on a Saturday night.
Love is not subtle.
Love is two people bargaining,
lying to each other,
lying to themselves.
Love keeps track of every misstep
so as to hold it against their partner in an ongoing war of attrition
so that they get to pick what to watch on Net-Flix.
Love does not rejoice in itself,
but does so on Facebook,
so that you can rub it in the face of your ex,
and all those friends that just really want to watch you fail.
Love is cheap.
*** with a price tag marked to sell.
Love is dead.

I really should stay away from boys like you.

Who take me to their rooms and don't go anywhere near the bed, just put their arm around me and tell me about themselves. Who touch my cheek and look at me for a moment when they talk about things they love.

The beautiful, innocent ones with stars in their eyes. Who introduce me to their parents and hold my hand and hold me and don't try anything in the dark.

Boys who I really, really don't deserve, who eventually see that for themselves and leave, taking a piece of my heart with them.

Boys like you, honey.

Yay! It's the weekend
out with the girls tonight
Feeling rather perky
but wish my backside was feeling tight

I've squeezed it into jeans
they hold everything in!
Can't eat or drink too much
as there's really not much give

I will make it work though
and wiggle it all with pride
feeling 'bootylicious'
Thank god I've got alcohol on my side!

:D

I fix your breakfast every morning before I go to work
I set your favorite channel on the T.V.
Last thing I butter the toast before I go
Cause I know you don't like your bread soggy

I think of calling you but I know better
You never would pick up the phone
What could I say besides I miss you anyways
And is this the sadness that makes us alone

I make it home just in time for dinner
And again set out those two empty plates
The conversation is light, guess you know why
I watch the news then go to bed because it's late

In the morning I get up and do it all again
I make sure your eggs are warm and your juice is cold
I've followed this routine for several years going
A routine that is as young as it is old

I pick up my satchel, head back to work
Ready for another long grueling day
It's you I think about more often than not
Which helps to pass the time away

Back home again in time for dinner
As I wonder what it is you would eat
I try to fix what you would like most every night
Since I'm not to concerned about me

Because it's been five years now that you've been gone
Seems only yesterday we placed you in the grave
How fast the time has gone, wish your were still here at home
Then and only then would I know what to say

All untold
All kept inside
A little, small s e c r e t
Told a lie
And as it was whispered
Right through the lips
Carried by the air
Blown in the wind
Right through their ears
Right out their mouth
The s e c r e t once kept inside
Has now begun to sprout