and when you said
laughter is like a foreign language
i imagined that i was
teaching you how to
speak it

I love you
Yet I don’t

Do I love you
Or the idea of loving you?

We broke up
And I have yet moved on

We stopped talking
Yet I can’t stop thinking
Of you

We stopped texting
Yet I’m still stalking
Your social media

So tell me
Do I miss you
Or the idea of missing you

An Orange,
It's round and soft,
It fits perfectly into a hand.

It's natural form is seriously examined.
Tumbled about by the thumb and four fingers.

The thumb decides to investigate closely,
The textured softness gives way,

A large chunk of the skin is torn off.
and white flesh is exposed.

The fingers roll in from the side,
to aid the thumb.

The pale white and scared skin,
oozes a sweet fluid.

A naked and scared form remains

The hand wonders,
what can be done to redeem the Orange.

Its mangled form must be eaten!
Its the noble purpose for this Orange.

The season is changing;
I liked, the long daylight
I loved, the warm sun and the display of natures best

I liked, cool rivers in the heat of the day
I loved, the busy day and the seemingly short nights.

My confidence & happiness was at there best
When my successes were much easier

The season is changing;
I dislike, that my youth is dulling
I hate, the weight that camouflages my inner self

The season is changing;
My confidence & happiness steadily diminish.
There must be a purpose to push on.

I am being phased out.
Just a withering leaf about to be plucked.

Regrettably, the season has changed.

Morning glides its sticky honey hands
through your window
dances across your closed eyelids
Born into the sunlight that
Burns into you and
Pulls up your glazed eyes,
Pushes you back into your nightmare

People always say they wish they couldn't feel.
Apparently pain is worse than nothing.

My coping mechanism would beg to differ.