I've locked myself up,
These past two years.
I'd say I don't blame you,
But then I'd be lying.
Thanks for the gift.
I didn't know you
Could package heartbreak.
It was a little earlier
Than the holidays, but
It loves to open up
On Christmas,
And make me cry
Under the mistletoe.
You wrapped it up,
In beautiful ribbon.
Just like you wrapped me,
Up around your finger,
Two years ago.
Thanks for that.

Hope you have a wonderful holiday,
        Sincerely,
              Amara

The world
Ended
We all
Died
And we
Don't even
Realize it
This is
Hell

She stared at her wall
Filled up with photos
Of friends & family
Their faces marked out
With black marker
So she couldn't see the
Smiles that she believed
Were only made for her
Benefit

I sat down in the shower
It was only a moment, but it felt like an hour
The rain poured down my back
My body was consumed by a panic attack
The water mixed in with the tears that I wept
Overwhelming me from all of the secrets I kept
My sobs a cacophony with the pitter patter of drops
Little black ink stains from my eyes turned to spots
Splattering onto my ankles and my pale clenching hands
I slowly drained away, no longer solid, just sand
A fragile little thing in that shower, I was
Stripped away and torn up, never really
                      
                l
               ­           o
                                    v
          ­                                     e
                                                          *d

She sits there,
frozen like a statue,
fingers apart,
typing on the running technology.

Glossy eyes beneath her ever clear glasses,
as I watched her I wonder,
have we been consumed by lifeless objects?
is this our future?

Sitting lifelessly on the other consumer of our life,
only moving to adjust her glasses,
the girl sits there,
eyes pierced into the ever quadrilateral brightness.

The feeling of regret,
it illuminated the vicinity from the sitting girl,
yet I am doing the same,
writing this poem.

I'll *******,
If you want.
Cause I want it
Just as bad as you do.
But I also want to hear the rustle of the sheets
When you turn over in the middle of the night.
I want to feel your hot breath on my neck.
I want the stubble on your chin to graze my cheek
As you kiss me gently on the forehead.
And when I whisper "goodnight," you don't have to reply.
Just nudge me with your knee
Or poke me with your elbow.

Staring
right through the flame
straight past the light and warmth
without noticing the burning;
feeling

I don't remember, any more,
The exact shape of your hands
As I held them in mine,
Caressed them,
Memorized the length of your fingers,
The depth of your calluses.

I don't remember, any more,
Exactly your height, how much
Taller than me
You were, where
My head rested on your chest
When you held me tightly close.

I don't remember, any more,
Your scent, when we lay together
Creating our own
Magic rhythm,
Matching our heartbeats as we
Touched the sky, together.

I don't remember, any more,
The sound of your voice, calling
My name as though
It were a song
Within itself, a precious treasure
You valued with all your being.

And I don't remember, any more,
The color of your eyes, the shape
Of your lips,
Only...
How your eyes crinkled at the corners
And your laugh, as you told me,

"I love you."