~

If I could come to you ..

be there for you
speak no words,
just hold you
in my arms,
place my hand in yours ..

I would

◇

If I could be there ..

let you know
with my eyes
that all will be well,
just sit with you ..

I would

◇

If I could be at your side

take your pain,
caress the hurt,
kiss your tears
with my hand on your heart ..

I would

~

You were always so fascinated with silhouettes.
The way the ***** of the nose flowed into the lips,
flowed into the curve of the chin,
then the ******* and finally the heart.
You told me I looked beautiful that night
that you first kissed me.
I could swear I heard my heart soar but
maybe beneath that flutter,
I failed to notice the slight crack.
Because the moment you made your home
in my ribcage,
I lost segments of myself until the day you left,
I now notice, you actually left nothing at all.
Looking back, I see that it was actually my fault.
I was hasty in loving you so fully.
My mother told me to be wary of the drugs on the street,
the day I left home.
But she failed to mention that some drugs come
with a beating heart and hazel eyes.
I still feel you flowing in my blood stream.
Your scent, permanently embedded into my bones.
And I don't know what's sadder:
The fact that I'm still in love with you,
or the fact that you were never loved me to begin with.
You only loved the idea of me.
You only loved my skeleton.
And you were all I ever wanted.
But I was not brilliant enough.
Now I see that you only love silhouettes
because you're afraid of fully seeing someone,
out and vulnerable.
So, you settle for shadows.

you
w i l l
always
be white
noise,    a
thrumming
in my fingertips
as i'm falling asleep,
a long-existing ache in
my chest from not telling
you  i loved  you for  too
many months. i wanted
you- hot  and  cold and
not being able to break
from you- but i cannot
want you anymore,
cannot   miss   you
anymore, cannot
dream about
y   o   u   r
p r o m i s e s
and your laugh,
cannot wake up
hoping you've
walked out of
mymindand
f  o  u  n  d
yourself    in
the extra space
in   my   bed.   i
missyou,though.
how sad is that, to
miss  someone  who
carved me out to   make
room for  w h a t  i thought
was himself and filled me only
with  beautiful  words  that  were
empty                    ­                      
                                    empty
­empty.                          
i want to move on
i want to move
i want to
i want
i