I have this note.
A little note
on yellow paper,
with a young man's signature.
I keep this note.

I have this note.
A blank note.
Yes, there are words.
But they are empty.
Nothing from the heart expressed.
Over and over, I read this note.

I have this note.
The only note.
A single lasting artifact
of a romance gone by.
Yet still, the note survives.

I have this note.
A damaged note.
Ripped in two;
like me from you.
I keep the pieces of this note.

I have this note.
A months-old note.
Scribbled, signed & torn; mine.
A cold reminder of harder times.
But I cannot come to trash this note.

Buried the fourteenth of July,
Another life that was worth saving,
Why'd you have to risk your life,
So less people would die,
Now you're six feet under,
But I wish you were coming to my door,
That you wouldn't knock,
That you'd just come in,
And pull me in your arms,
That I could taste your love one more time,
But it would never be enough.
All I hear is your name echoed in empty spaces,
All this time, it wasn't well wasted,
Now I'm sitting here staring out the window,
And I'm waiting for you to come home,
I never lose hope,
I'll count the stars until you come back here,
I can't accept the facts,
What's a heart that doesn't beat,
And I found my beat,
My love won't die for you,
But I'll die waiting for you to come back,
Because what good is half a person,
That's why I need you.

It takes baby steps
to fall out of love
yet falling in love is fast
like a rollercoaster ride
going with the waves
up and down.

you can't unknow someone
whose very essence is burned
into the depths of your soul
can't forget the one
who fills your every waking thought.

I want to unlearn every lesson
forget the bad memories
learn to let go of the pain
discover who I am and who I can be without you.

cyclic lingering

disconnected rambling

the same words rearanged

breathes shortening

impotent bargaining

the same pattern misbehaves

Ive always walked this way

hormonal litter cursed by anatomy

hyesteria



weepy futility

uncharacteristic of one so bold

the words of tongues

drag mud through wounds

a voided heart : not so





deep breaths

stand strong in misery

mindfulness, like a drug

disconnect and call it religion

pacing pacing pacing

thoughts;



I bleed for the words of others

For both praise and scheming lies

I wish to leave this haunted soul

but I

But I

but I ...what?

need to run?

to hide?

to hold my ground?

we'll see as it comes

a controlling women's worst nightmare

Don't walk,
protected
by shadows
wearing masks,  
                         when streaming light,
                         gleaming sword drawn,
                         comes to annihilate,
                                                     ­     evil shadows
                                                         ­ with vengeance;
                                                      ­                               *where would you hide?

And sad she's been.

and drinking in the new year has everything seemed like it would fit into place... but fit in it does not, a square hole fitting a sphere shaped piece...

attempting the new does the old fit in better than anything, and happy nowhere does she fit in, and drink does she more...

but the more she sips the poison, does the toxin fill her lungs and more often than not does the feeling of unease take over her body... and simply the many that call her amazing really mean terrible...

but know little that they mean terrible, and the few that read terrible, know simply the  tears that fall are more simple and complete than anything felt before, and every feeling felt before is unknown and foreign to those who think they are aware, but are really oblivious.

always does the rain fall on those who ask for it, don't be sad and wish it didn't happen, because the truth that lies is what really exists and the new year brings in nothing but good hopes and wishes. maybe he should sleep.

and ask for that does she not, she wishes the truth would surface, because then would the sun break through and the light be seen by many, and make all the pieces fall into place, and everyone would read the story much more easily in the light than in the dark of her thoughts and maybe then will her soul not feel so heavy but light.

and always will she feel better if everything the alcohol keeps inside would stay inside, and the years past would not exsist and everything would fade away and the rain would it wash away everything...

and pretend all that occurred didn't, and innocent she would remain instead of everything stolen from her heart would she remain happy, instead of ruined and just another pawn in life's game of chess instead of a piece of a game that can ruin others...

and always ruin will she because she deserves death but isn't strong enough to give, because if strong enough to give would everyone serve time and deal debt instead of tears filling cups, and woes filling life, and pain filling strife... maybe then would the debt be repaid but no...

the heart still beats with unknown determinations... if the truth of it all showed would the heart truthfully give up and let the truth give in... whereas the life would be lost and no one would question it...

I reach my hand out to strike him
For all his hurtful words,
I detest him
For his misleading words,
He made me believe that I was
Weird, not simply different
Made me feel like a stranger
In my own body
(those touches from a long
time ago from That Boy who
used to be a friend )
They come back to me and
-And I feel *****
When he calls me something
I practically know I'm not
I feel even more dirtier
For one moment,
I hated him the way only
Siblings can hate each other
Everyone else foreign to
This strangeness
So I deal him a blow
That didn't sting half as much
As his words did
I withdraw my hand
And it stings
I look at its underside
A thin, red line of blood
Stretching out
The scar doesn't leave for
Three whole days