Love lost, heart in pain
Memories of you remain
Life will never be same

This Christmas,
   I do not ask for a lot,
      I simply wish to dream eternally,
                  so we may meet once more
just a second in time, to ask for forgiveness for who I became.

Amongst the tattered cathedral,
weathered chipped stone facade, scared by time.
Spires reach skyward like ancient fingers around me,
On my knee's at the pew,
I pray to god,
Pray for love,
Pray for an ear,
Pray for someone to just listen. .
Take me in your tattered fingers,
Pull me from the nightmare of my mind, save me from this weakness.
Longing to drown, only to breathe.
Longing to swim, only to sink.
Longing to fall, only to fly.
dull frescoes of angels, corrupted by cobwebs judge me.
There is no sound, only the hushed reverence unspoken.
Under lofty arches, my pleas are but echoes of weakness,
longing to die, but afraid of death.

As summer leaves,
I watch a sweet little bird, who gives all his food.
I watch a sweet little bird, who gives all his home.
I watch a sweet little bird, hungry.
I watch a sweet little bird, tired.
I watch a sweet little bird, disheveled.
who gives and gives, until it becomes no more.
Confined in the cage called love, what a stupid bird. I think to myself.
Gone is the bird, replaced by my reflection on the window pane.
Caged forever more.

I sit under the desert breeze,
under the tall palm tree pondering,
who I am, what I want,
  what I need, where I want to be,
      why do I live, why do I wake?
the desert sand on my toes, a slight reminder
  of living, a brief sign of my humanity,
        a simple touch. . . with no answers. . .
I am alone. . .
    not even my conscious answers.
          I miss myself. .
Why am I alone? why is my heart scattered
   upon the questions unanswered
          pondering; lack of living
                     I want to live; not p̶o̶n̶d̶e̶r̶

Written words,
can not describe everything I do for you.
I write
I write
I write
For you
Thousands of similes, hundreds of metaphors,
smells, sounds, emotions, feelings.
Yet no words can describe why I write for you.
Ironic right.

Interweave my dreams in the wind,
       blind stars in my eyes,
             endless sensations on my soul,
                  enamored and enraptured in your sea
                      which beats upon my door
                           your sea which leaps into my frigid heart,
                                waves of unwanted passion,
                                     fear and pain play in the air,
                                         Emotions long lost,
                                               awakened once more,
                                                      you whisper "let me in"
                                                           my silence speaks volumes
                                                                    "free me"

I was born pure, white , unstained.
Today I am full of resentment , a well of hatred
bitter poison stuck on revenge, stuck on hate, stuck on anger
for I lost you, and I am a̶n̶g̶r̶y̶

Colorless time,
blank canvas without you,
only full of memory,
memory that invents you,
memory that recreates you,
in each stroke of longing.

Strokes of gray,
amongst the hills of the dying,
decrepit, silent, agony filled hills,
late train, filled with certainty,
to find you once more in the promise land.

Strokes of red,
longing for your voice,
and your ardent touch,
rosy red lips, amongst my skin.

Strokes of Black,
slow death, undeserved death
daggers on the back, from the treatment that was your "saving"
absent from your being.

Stroke of Purple,
stars, vapor clouds, constellations painted of your embrace
amongst pill induced dreams, false reality
false hope and false love,
but true longing which craves for your love again.

Why am I alone?
Pondering and lingering,
consumed in irregular thought.
Why are my tears not heard?
The soul it weeps not seen?
This pain, streamed from my eyes, leaves its sour taste.
Why am I alone?
Happiness surrounds me, and pain imprisons me.
Free me from this cage,
      it chokes me,  
          it's shadow paints me,
                  free me from this loneliness.
-A̶l̶o̶n̶e̶

Make me the exception,
let me love you; for she does not.
Make believe blindly in you and invade my heart,
****** me of reason,
turn my blood to flame and let burn with passion,
embrace me, never let go, live inside me.
Make me forget, please fulfill my r̶e̶q̶u̶e̶s̶t̶.

Yes, I dream, I live, I wander afield
    lost under starry sky's, interweaved in stormy sea
Lost in fascinations of a declining mind.

Yes, I dream- lost to past thoughts
    I hold the stars, conquer the waves of my own mental damnation. . .  
& yet - from past memories there is no escape. . . past touch, past scents I FALL APART for, you set off this dream in me,
       but its a dream, that is all it will be
                           -A Dream

You forgot,
and yet I wait.
In our home,
with the peach tree that blossoms in the spring,
the lantana that loves its sun,
and the rose that only grows stems.
longing to forget, longing to leave,
but stuck in the same place.
waiting for you.

I know my beauty pales in comparison to the beauties of the world,
        the beauties you can find.

Your connoisseur feelings were dragged by my brain, by my words, by my heart with all its splendor, the cadence of my thoughts, the idealism and peculiarity of my mind.
      but I'd be joking if that was true.

You fell in love with my looks, the fury of my ***, and even when I have you I can't help but feel that I lose. . . for I know this love will n̶o̶t̶ ̶l̶a̶s̶t̶. . .

When you say "I love you"
   you say it to her,
           you it to them,
          so I fake this s̶m̶i̶l̶e̶. . . because its hard to say goodbye. . .
                 what a fool I am. . .

Take my hand,
Share this moment
        I'll admit
I am afraid.

         Take the plunge
Into the deep
          Let us love without complexities,
straightforwardly.

        Take my hand,
feel my beat,
        feel the sweat
I am scared
        You're scared
but let our hearts beat in-unison
         as we steal stars from the night sky.
  --for our love to shine bright in our discomposure--

“words don’t hurt.”
    They only build bridges to the most hidden isles of our being,
Bridges which illuminate our most hidden, self-hate, doubt and pain.
               & as our very being walks the hidden bridge,
                    They enrapture, take us down, into the dark abyss.
                         Pleading, begging, hurtful, angry words,
                              Pull us down, down, down, until we are submerged.
                                      Pointless words that entangle and drown you.
                                                   So, no they do not hurt,
                                                            They slowly ᴋɪʟʟ

I'll never fall in love again,
for I never knew love until I met you,
I never knew to cry,
I never knew to drink,
I never knew to long,
until I met you.
I'll never fall in love again,
for love is a disappointment,
& my greatest mistake.

It hurts. . .
the home we didn't build,
the moments yet lived,
the house not purchased,
the vacations not taken,
the memories not lived
it hurts, dreaming of what we could do. . .

We are taught not to envy others.
   but I am a failure at life, a sacrilegious romantic fool.
I envy every second of the hand you hold,
so unaware as you gaze at your phone.
  Envy the seconds you sit together for a meal,
     ignoring one another.
        Envy when you sleep together,
           only to cheat together.

I envy others,
  my eyes fill with hate,
    for they serve as a mirror,
      in them I see me.
          . . .I'm s̶o̶r̶r̶y̶ . . .

I am dying strangely, love does not **** me.
My heart is still beating, death does not yet visit me.
I am dying of these memories, a would of longing.
Do you feel my pain?
This memory, that has rooted itself in my soul.
It ***** away all happiness & sadness, why does it not bloom?
This memory of you I can not erase,
Time does not forgive , I lost myself more and more in your old embrace.

3 years ago you left this world,
   3 years ago I ceased to exist,
        breathing became life,
             until yesterday,
                 I decided to live again. . . not for you. . . not for them. . .
                         but for me. . . -strength

Clung to you and cried,
  I begged you not to die,
      for the moon forgiving blessed us with another sun.
         I held your hand,
           I broke down,

How selfish, all the time it was me, me, me.
    Not your pain,
        not your peace,
            nor your sleep,

I am a selfish and a weak fool.
   who fears to be ａｌｏｎｅ

Let my words, shoot sunbeams that find you.
Let my eyes, watch you from above,
Let my worries, melt in your arms,
Let my song, whisper "I love you"
Let my image, fill your dreams.
If only, if only it was me. . .

* something short and sweet, hope you all have a good day

Remember, the cold desert breeze.
The strange silence  after the cicada's song has gone to sleep.
Bare concrete floors, a broken down door.
An old computer desk with D+J carved into the wood.
Beat up old bed, with a lone gaga poster on the wall.
How, we thought we were "different",
When you'd tell me on the phone, "its going to be okay, I'll run away with you".
I dreamed of a warm home, now I have three.
I dreamed of a car, now I have four.
I dreamed of money, now I have too much to count.
I was cold,
                Hungry,
                          Angry,
But at least I had you.
from diapers until 23. . . we were always together . .
Almost a decade later and I wonder if you are still up there
gazing at me.
    If you are proud of who I became.

▼
I am tired of writing to my only fan; my imagination.
Tired of writing, tired of speaking
Tired of shouting, Tired of crying,
Alone. . .
   no one is reading. . .
            no one hears my pleas. . .
                     - A̶l̶o̶n̶e̶

The open window, a temptation for wings.
Sweet angel seduced by the purest nectar of the stars,
Your arms two cocoons of wings,
The gravel, the weeds, the cricket that sings all mark the path,
"Flee, Flee, Don't ever look back"
Yet your pour the smooth liquor in your glass,
one,two,three,five,ten it never ends. . .
The smell of cigars and upholstered leather, cling to the horror of the solitude as you take your last breath. .
All you are remembered for is "he was just a drunk"

I used to envy others,
    and constantly ask why?
          but each time I asked why,
             a cut opened in my soul,
                  in endless cycle that would not heal.
It became unrecognizable,
      from my own Ⓐⓑⓤⓢⓔ

To my heart that is dead,
deserted of hate and love already lost,
to my heart held by the brakes of my flesh,
I say unto you, stop your song; as I give the twilights of my life.
To be reunited with him once more.

I am jealous of his laugh; that rings in my soul
and condemns me day & night,
it torments my dying mind,
like a comet in the sky,
amongst the beautiful stars,
it glows from afar,
as I continue to rot on the ground.
I am jealous of his laugh,
jealous I am not enough,
   jealous I am not him. . .

I have nothing left,
neither your touch, nor your lips,
just the echo in my heart; hollow anguish within me.
That is where your presence is,
that is where your presence lives,
  inside my broken clinging soul,
    and this insistence of writing about you,
        is to hear your sound, feel your heat,
             because it hurts, loving you, i̶t̶ ̶h̶u̶r̶t̶s̶.

Amongst the desert, with its silence
broken by the cricket that does not sleep.
There is a tomb, your tomb, adorned by flowers.
With their beautiful everlasting Hughes of yellow and blue,
tainted, sun bleached, plastic flowers,
trash littered amongst your grave
tells the tale of someone forgotten. . .
In this tomb your name is carved,
with its letters lost to time,
& on moonlight nights,
under the basking of the stars,
amongst the waves of my damnation
I wish I had more time,
   I wish I you proud of me,
        I wish I could turn back time. . .
for even in death, I fail you.
    just look at your t̶o̶m̶b̶. . .
          I'm sorry. . .

Smallness is not decided by others,
   it is not preordained fate,
    under the endless bastion of the fathers heaven,
         it is what YOU see in yourself,
              what YOU say about yourself,
                    what YOU think is acceptable
                        what YOU allow of others
                               It is 𝓎Ｏυ. . .

I can spend thousands of dollars and hours,
  only to look in the mirror,
    & notice everything I am not.
        - ɪ ꜰᴀʟʟ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛ

I used to hate the color brown,
   a constant reminder of marginalization
        of feeling innate. . .
            
But in brown. .
  you have red . . .
       yellow. . .
          &  blue. . .
             & every hue in-between

a gentle reminder,
     that brown is the dirt,
         that holds a field of flowers,
              so radiant, bright and colorful
                   which could not exist
                             without their foundation
                                    and with that
                                          I smile
                                                with ᴘʀɪᴅᴇ

He said facing me
  " I love you because you never lie"
but my back
  tells the story
    of many lies
      & many nights
          looking for love
             living a lie
                 despite it all.

Blood stained sheets,
   the smell of **** and ****,
      creases in white linen , never looked so colorful
          endless rivers of tears and anguish,
              dreary flowers in drool stains,
                    if sheets could talk. . .
                        they would beg "please stop"
                            above a never ending bedrock of old mattress springs,
                               that groin and creak,
                                   a tectonic shift of emotions,
                                         disturbed by a thunderous voice
                                               " clean yourself up, sorry"

a reminder you had your way. . .
         -ŘÃƤẸ

Little Boy,
  you care too much. . .
     you love too much. . .
        you give too much. . .

Put your dreams first!
   𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻𝒾𝓈𝒽
It's not your responsibility!
   𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒
Go, run, be free!
  𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃'𝓉

You loved them so much, they became your burden.
   You cared so much, they became your illness.
      You gave them all, they became your death sentence.
-𝚢𝚘𝚞

Life has made me write poems,
for others they have created poems,
I live vicariously through their moments,
each kiss, each love, each heartache.

Life has made me write secrets,
of others nightly silhouettes,
full of passion, full of grace, full of desire,
each touch, each stroke, each breath.

Life has mocked me with the moon,
with all its grace that illuminates you at night,
as you take flight oh sweet moth towards its light.

Life has scorned me,
  taken from me, broke me,
        now I write poems,
          and live 𝓛𝓲𝓯𝓮 through others.
             for I fear to 𝓵𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝔂 𝓸𝔀𝓷.

"Because you are getting fat"
I don't believe in you, but I adore you.
I used to be happy, I used to be confident.
But then I met you. I know that I choose and live this life.
But I am weak around you, so I implore you,
Be kind, Be genuine, Be nice. .
For I lose my strength, poor me, I am a fool.
A lost stupid fool.

Hold me like you used to do,
Let my thoughts run free to the moon,
      Let my arteries burn in lustful flame,
             Let me fall in love all over tonight,
for endless are my sorrows,
  so endless my miseries,
        I'm scared. . .
          so let me experience . . . love. . .
                at least for tonight.

Sleep my love,
may nightmares turn to dreams,
may worries fade,
may your past become your future.
until we meet again.

Sleep my love,
save your voice
become one with my dying heartbeat,
may your words that bring a sweet melancholy,
not be wasted on me.

May we meet again,
         fight again,
             laugh again,
                love again,
so let my eyes close and heart sleep
in the sweet moments of our goodbye
           until we meet again.

Moonlight, you which gazes down on me . . .mockingly.
I see your light, I see your smile, I see your mockery.
I kick, scream, reach , plead , gasp for air,
in this ocean of regret, age, and despair.
"Let me be free", "Let me escape"
But this is no fairy tail, this is life.
From a child who cried when they could not finish the lunch their mother worked so hard to buy.
To a man, who's shackles of love, family, devotion and pride only pull me down deeper, deeper, deeper into my own excruciating extremities.  

What are these feelings of longing, of fear, of despair, that have yet to occur?Why do they hold me?
What is this anxiety?
Dear heart, please change your pulse only for me,
let me be free, let me forget all their faces, let me be me. . .
I plead, I plead and I plead. . .
No one is listening, Nobody cares. . .
Only the moon which gazes upon me notices, but only to mock me. .

Tremors felt for miles,
    Destructive earthquake breakdown my walls,
                                           stimulating endless profane thoughts,
                                                                    I long , for just your 𝓽𝓸𝓾𝓬𝓱.