I'm not sure if my heart is still in there somewhere
Or if maybe it's vacationing.

It would be nice to get a postcard.

Tiny crimson droplets mar the fabric upon which I lay
I observe each individual fiber,
stained,
Soiled by a midnight mistake I may never be able to remove
You can only scrub so much
Until you must resort to bleaching things away.

I promise not to press you between my pages,
You're beautiful because you're so alive.

It seems like the memory of you multiplies when I finally think it's gone.
I shared the things I love with you,
The things that are pieces of who I am.
I wish I hadn't let you into so many parts of my life,
Because I haven't stopped trying to get rid of you
And you've been creeping up from tiny cracks and crevices to spite me.
It doesn't matter what I do, what I use, what I say.
You keep blooming out of nowhere.

I've been trying to figure out how to get it back,
But I haven't seen you in months.
Have you found it sitting there?
I wonder if you threw it out along with fast food bags and stray receipts,
Or if maybe you repurposed it and hung it over your rearview instead.

I've forgotten the way your lips taste,
And the greatest hardship of all
Is waiting for a reminder
That isn't coming.

I thought I could swallow my fear,
But I guess you could taste it in my kiss.

I want to feel his feather-soft fingertips grazing the curves of my body,
To reverently hold him in my arms beneath the pale moonlight,
To feel the heat of his skin on mine.
I yearn for the warm, insistent coaxing of his lips,
The sound of his whispering voice,
And the feeling of his breath tickling my ear.
I want tenderness in his beautiful eyes, his words, his touch.
I long for his capable arms, his easy smile, the masculine smell of his body.
I need gentleness within his insistence, desire within his need, compassion within his reckless abandon.
I don't want *** from him,
I want to make love.

I'm thinking of the pond we watched from above, while the sun was disappearing behind the trees and lighting up the sky from underneath. The mist was rising up from still waters, save for the ripples you made as you tossed pebbles into the mirror below, and I could feel the heat from your body when we were just centimeters from each other.

Why couldn't I have just kissed you?

I look at his picture maybe 15 times a day,
And I have to wonder what we could have been
(If he hadn't gone away.)

The perfect man for me will not mind that I sometimes snort when I laugh. He will love the way I sneeze in threes and think I am beautiful when I cry into my shirtsleeve. He will love me for the naive way I think all people are good and he will pick me up when I realize they aren't. He will laugh at my stupid jokes, watch terrible movies with me, and always kiss me like it is the last time we'll touch. In the middle of the night, when only the pale yellow moon can see us, he will hold me close to his chest like I am going to disappear in his arms. When we make love, I will be able to feel the passion on his skin and the world will slow to a near stop. The perfect man for me will tell me when I am wrong and admit when I am right, he will love how I wear my heart on my sleeve and will not be intimidated by the passion I live my life with. He will look beyond my past and embrace a future with me. He will kiss the bruises others have left and admire the way I refuse to accept defeat. Most of all, he will love me in the same way I have been willing to love my whole life.

He was not cold and callous,
But warm, quiet, and kind.
His breath smelled of lilies and he kissed me softly,
Until I fell asleep in his capable arms.
You may ask what it felt like to be touched by death,
But it was I who reached out, grasped his hand, and willed him to take me away.
Instead he smiled, kissed my forehead, and promised he'd return for me.

I didn't know that I could feel this strongly about every breath another human being takes, or for that matter, who's lucky enough to breathe that same air.

I was covered in gasoline
And with the ghost of a smirk playing on on your lips,
You dropped a lit match and set me aflame.

Thick black smoke swallowed me whole
And I felt your fingers dancing across my skin,
searing a path across my body.
I can't see the difference between pain and ecstasy,
(maybe there isn't one at all)
But I can't think of a more violent ecstasy
Or a more pleasurable pain than you--
the beginning to my end.

All that's left to you now is cinder, ash,
And a whispered "I think I love you..."

I have love in my eyes and flowers in my hair
But you're looking in all the wrong places.
So I guess I'll just cry and sing with my guitar,
Because I'm not in California
And you're thousands of miles away,
(Or at least you seem to be.)

I don't need a lullaby.

I'm tired of being told to sleep it off and that it'll all be better tomorrow because sometimes you wake up feeling as desperate (if not more so) than before.

Pretty lyrics aren't going to remedy ugly scathing words and a soft, slow melody isn't going to cover up the irregular sound of a heart trying to beat in a rhythm it doesn't remember.

So kindly stop trying to force me to enjoy a happy tune I don't want to sing and give me a song that's honest and angry and raw like I am because at least then I don't have to pretend everything is just fine.

So here I am,
Praying to a God that won't answer me,
The one you don't believe in but still curse for your shortcomings.
And as tears fall to my lips,
I realize they taste a hell of a lot like whiskey and your broken promises.

I weep for you, sweet angel.
So alone and isolated.
So scared of what the future could hold,
Or perhaps what it couldn't,
That you preferred to die rather than live.
I wish I could have held you.

I weep for you, brother.
Who lost your sibling.
Who regrets every cross word
And every assault and insult,
With the bruised eyes and torn soul
Don't blame yourself.

I weep for you, mother.
Who loved you baby more than anything.
Who laughed with him,
And cried for him,
And now battles with every ghost of a memory.
He loved you too.

I weep for you, father.
Who dreamt of your child's future,
Who imagined he would be a father someday too.
Who feigns strength for your family
But wants more than anything to break down too.
You tried your hardest.

I weep for you, world.
Who watched as an angel fell.
Who observed the skies opening for him,
Who watched the heavens pour out.
Who cradles him now, tighter than ever.
*Hold him gently, for all of us.

They'll sew your lips shut in pretty little stitches
To keep your screams quiet,
Because beauty is nothing less than immeasurable pain.
I hear you'll be grateful though;
Your face will be lovely
And because of your tightly bound lips,
No one can smell the way your insides will rot.

I saw your face upturned at the darkened sky,
And as you reached for the moon,
Kissing her softly,
The stars glittered with bitterness.

I admired you, the boy that the moon loved.
I saw your lips dance across the night,
Watched you pull at the blanket of the sky,
And I understood the jealousness of the stars.

Because even if your eyes were full of starlight,
Your lips still bore her moonbeams.

I cannot sleep in peace anymore.
I know that when I wake,
You will be gone once again--
And all that will be left is your sweet voice,
Whispering in the back of my skull.

Sometimes when I am in bed,
Laying in the dark,
I listen to the cars roar by
From silence back into silence.

The silence is so loud, I think I may go deaf,
And the darkness suffocates me.
As I lay,
I feel the dark closing around me.
The silence is consuming,
And my thoughts permeate the total blackness.

The world suddenly seems so big,
And I so infinitesimally small.