If not for tomorrow I'd live for today
And treat each breath gifted
Like it could be the last one I'll take
If not for tomorrow I'd find religion
And pray on my knees until
I was too sore then I'd pray some more
If not for tomorrow I'd be more sensible
And I'd take more risks because
I wouldn't have time elsewise
If not for tomorrow I wouldn't take today for granted
And I wouldn't live in the past
But live in the present
But I'm only human
So I think to live for tomorrow
Instead of today

Crowded room with quiet voices,
I stand in line with anxiety thrusting through me.
In a line with a board spouting words,
Different flavours and styles steaming below.
Choices of familiar or new,
Too many people to really choose.
Soft voice, cracked with fear.
I sit in the crowded room,
Separating myself from the crowd,
Silent and lost in my mind.
My drink is served and I begin to write.
Muffin crumbed, drink stirred,
The day begins in quiet anxiety.

I sit at the edge of my bed,
White stocking covered feet
Swaying without breaking a beat,
You laugh and tell me, "no more, sweetie"
I give a smile but continue in denial
In denial that this is a fantasy I created after a while.
After months of late night calls and whispered sins
Months of laughter and cocained induced spins
It was when the truth slipped my lips that fantasies and dreams were locked away.
I laid in my cold bed, staring through a screen.
Your jaw tightened and my eyes fluttered closed.
Moments before we had laughed about our fantasies and I dreamed of a alternative life.
I even said, dreams don't come true and you neither denied it or agreed.
You enjoyed the thought of holding me and brushing your fingers over my skin.
I now enjoy the thought, alone in cold sheets of being loved again.
I messaged you in silent fear, will you ever come near?
Near to what we use to be,
Near to laughter and calling me your little Ducky?
You say you are torn, hurt and distressed.
One little Lie and I have to pull up my dress.
I cover my body and bow my head,
My Love, I am nothing but dead.
You don't know it now but I can see,
A day or so you will forget about me.
Fantasy will be locked behind a door,
Dreams have turned to nightmares since you aren't here anymore.
I wish I could have kept quiet,
But silence isn't my strong suit.
I wish you were dumber, after your nose is abused,
But instead you remain sharp and count the years until I can down a *****.
I sit on the edge of my bed,
Bare feet swaying.
My eyes are glued to the bare stop I wish you were kneeling.
I part my lips to return a sassy response when I remembered;
Fantasies don't become reality.

I miss you,
Ever since the sun rose earlier each day.
I miss you,
Ever since we began to talk less and less.
I miss you, ever since our conversations took no place.
I miss you, ever since I found a place.
A place in your heart I thought was safe and warm,
That was until you figured out a detail I had stored.
A detail important to someone like you
Someone so caring, understanding, so far away too.
A detail that could create a crack.
Not only between us but in the life we lead.
I miss you,
Your half opened smile.
I miss you,
Your rising brow when I began to become a brat.
I miss you,
Even though you are here.

I gave you my past

my body

my all

I told you my heart

I pronounced adoration

I  left  you


and you did not reach out.

Remember
when I told you
you were a handsome man
whose personality
was a grand slam
how beautiful I felt in your gaze
how god-like you were in mine
how possible all my wants seemed
how dastardly my feelings became
isn't it quite phenomenal, how you caught me so
hook and line
Fish out of water
how miraculously
you let me think I was more than just a thing in your eyes

Who are you,
that likes my poems?
Who adds them to your collections
                                           shares
                                           likes
                                           comments
who are you,
to react to my emotion?

Would you, too,
like the way that I laugh?
Would you collect memories with me
                     share your hopes and dreams
                     like my smile
                     comment on the way I dress
would you, too,
react to my stories of what prompted these words?

Who are you, that reads my poetry?
and if we met,
should you think of me, too, as poetry?