The phone rang again last night
                 He carried new versions of last spring’s heartbreak, in a brand new season
We’d taken some time apart, and while I loved the freedom, my life’s destined to be his
             We’re fatally; fatefully intertwined he’s my ****** soul mate

We’ve gotten reacquainted over coffees on the afternoon; he knows how I take it; too much creamer for a fake delight, a little bit of sweet to lighten up the dark
    He takes his black, without sugar or any messy mixed deceptions
I whisper, red eyed once again, ‘I haven’t anything to offer; you took too much before’
                 He remains silent, it’s his style, I’ve grown fond of these becoming characteristics; loyal, dependable, and while he can’t be exclusive he never stays away for long
I wouldn’t call what we have love, but an old fashion arranged marriage
             He doesn’t mind my hearts to broken to hold and I don’t mention my resentment towards are lifetime commitment  --- we just sit in each other’s company sharing our afternoon coffees with the same old problems staring at the same bad news.

Sorrow’s pounding on my door, quarter to midnight, relentless, bill collector after my feelings.
     I explain my situation
                                Unforeseen emotional expenses have left me under budget and no way to make the minimum payment
He’s heard it all before, he can hear the pre-rehearsed lines in my voice  and presents me with a predetermined standard payment plan - he acts as the devil and I sign over my soul for an undeterminable amount of time for collateral

It’s useless really, he’ll never get the debt I owe
                                                       As soon as emotion comes in I’m going all out, he’ll never get paid
I’m already grief’s *****, and sorrow wants in too,
            I’m popular in stocks of hardship and heartless - there are perks to the situation if you choose to see them
                                               Without feeling anger no longer pollutes my mind

Hope passed through but with no vacancy he moved on to someone else, I don’t sleep well, but without emotions I do get to sleep

We’re in the midst of a December disaster
        Deja visite
     Verge of a new year stuck in the same old pain
Grandmother’s got cancer, merry Christmas, thanks Santa
My hearts to bruised from last spring slaughter to feel very much and with death on its doorstep again it’s in no rush to reconnect

The charity bells continue with their holiday hymns and grandpa can’t understand where his wife is
     I can’t take a break because one check’s never enough
She’s terminal, but I suppose we all are
                                                            S­he’s ****** to die in slow anticipation pain, we’re ****** to watch and contemplate our own demise

Merry Christmas Jesus, tell your dad the same, oh and tell him thanks for the hell stained greeting  sloshed upon our door
             We’ve only ever done our best, and while ****** go free, I suppose yes, it is we who deserve this living nightmare

Books threaten us with hell, eternal absence of you, well with the hand you’ve given it doesn’t sound so bad
Excuse my sacrilegious phrasing, but seems you’ve pardoned molesters and allowed hellish realities to walk our streets
                      What have we done?
                                                         You see us, and judge us wrong, but we are only what you made us, and pushing us doesn’t fix the hate you help create.
            I’d ask you for help, but you’ve already made it clear, you don’t give a flying **** as to what happens to your people here.

I know I won’t hate you forever, and maybe never really at all but my heart has been emotionally ***** and it feels like it’s all your fault

Sorry for whatever I have done or didn’t do, but if we repent can you give us one death free new year?

                    Bitter, table of one.

                                        Check please

You tell me I'm too flirty,
              but with a ring on your hand you hold mine?
Friends can't nudge each other, but they can hold each others hands?

They can't playfully tousle each other's hair, but they can touch each other's legs?

I'm trying real ******* hard to put you first.

                 you and your wife.

   Ignore all the signs that point to us and support you and when I hold back my habits of playful friendship swats

you.

you hold my hand
       and she's in the room.

I loved it, and I hate myself for that.

I splintered yesterday.
       Subtly shattered into a haze of pain.
                                                I was afraid of what the night would bring so I broke my rule to better and found the pills.
       It said for pain and I was split wide open with it so I took 1.

Just 1.

Until I still couldn't sleep. The not being enough and being me yelled in my head. Intermingled with the news of a further broken friend.
       I was spinning in a tornado of too much of everything so I took another one.

Just one more.

The roaring loneliness with no where to turn and no where to hide began to die down.
        I could feel sleeps breath on my eyes, giving weight to them, but my heart was still screaming --- creating the sensation of being burned alive, but given my options silence seemed better so I took 1 more.

Third time's the charmer.                     Tomorrow, with any luck, I'll stay just as numb but for now I've got the night and the drugs to help me slip
                                        into unconsciousness and forget


                 Sweet dreams are made of Vicodin - who am I to disagree?

I'll be pretty this time,
I promise to a room that never loved me.
      I'll be better.
Less of everything I am and more of everything I'm not.
               I'll even be someone else I promise,
       Just,
           as a request - forgive me my sins,
                                                forgive me my birth and love me one more day.

I want to want life - but I can't and your love - the love I can never have
      keeps me here.
Please, one more day, cause this ledge is ******* cold, and I don't wanna go just yet.

One more day.
    Just one.
            One.
love - please?

What if instead of roots I decided to fly and never settle in the ways my gender asks me to?

Would the whispers ever stop - would it ever change?
      Why would I adhere to these predetermined life lines if I can't hope my own Xs will get the opportunity to fly?

If I have to hope for Y so they might have a chance,
                             only a chance
                                                      why would I shackle myself
   to resentment and stunted versions of myself
                                  so this cycle simply perpetuates forward with protest?
   I don't want to remove the choice,
                                  but I'm sick of what I'm being told to pick.
              I'm broken for being in love with life instead of a spouse, partner, signficant other,
all adjectives for the same thing
                                           TRAPPED
               Why am I only permitted to seek my happiness if it fits into what shoudl fulfill me?

Consider me agency - being communioned into action for a better future so people can honestly pursue their happiness as people.

No X or Y needed to decipher some ancient code.

Simply human, simple people, simply enough.