I heard of a woman once, who spin you a tale as old as time, of everything you'd ever wanted to hear
of the great loves you'd endure, of the soulmate you'd find
the journeys you'd embark on
she'd tell this tale with such a passion, an intensity, a fire you'd get lost in each line, hang on each word and pray it never end
and then this woman would stop, her fire would begin to flicker and fade
smiling, with a coy look in her eye she'd present you with the most seductive of offers, for ten dollars she'd tell you the truth and for twenty she'd continue the lie
she'd wait a moment while peering through your eyes, watching you decide, knowing all to well the battle raging within and then she'd turn, her brown locks swaying behind her, choosing your answer for you
tempting you with dreams, teasing you with reassurance, and leaving you without either she grants you the greatest of gifts, something to hold on to
Hope

Last night I fell into someone else's fight and was an outsider looking in.
          Begging for affection
                               begging for it to stop
                  but knowing my place and shutting the hell up.

   It felt too **** much like home
                      the one I fought to be free from
             Where tensions rise and the issues are untapped
                                                        ­                           We gloss across mimicking how we wish we felt.
With no one succeeding.
  It felt too much like home when the Psychology was off.
                and two poeple were together even though they're all wrong

and I was in the way

I was forgotten but obnoxiously present.
I fell asleep to other's whispers conversations, comforts.

and I cried myself to sleep - huddled in a ball of issues
         Alone, wishing I'd been enough
                               Pleading to not be alive
                                              and I was an outsider looking in
like always
like home.

The trouble with love
       is that we only have one definition
  the trouble with life
         is that we only get one shot

and the trouble with you is that you're unlike anyone else I've ever known
     I will never forget you
          even if I want to
The trouble with me is I crave you
                         your eyes, face, soul
                                    especially soul

and I envy her
       especially her
   for being with you

the trouble with us is that we were never supposed to connect like this
             it complicated everything
                                  at least for me

I see your face on stage, eyes locked for only a moment here or there but my face flushed
      because in your music you bare your soul
   and I knew then that I loved you                                    but the definition's hazy and because of that
                                                            ­   i'll never tell you
   because you're happy with her
                           and if you're happy well, then my love,
I must let you go

Free me of myself, you beast
You claim to know the code of my soul
A shady offer, cheap date, and an instantly lowered self respect

I want to wash them away; your words
They cover me, come to me, creating unrest in my once certain soul
In these moments of nonphysical ****
I hate you.

The circles under my eyes darken with all the sleepless nights I’ve spent
                     Consumed

     By the answer I can never be
For my loves haunted by addiction

   For all the fragments

          I’m wondering if all my empty spots where love didn’t learn to grow are showing
   Wondering if only God can love the broken things, if only God can love me

It took three days back in that life to make me question
   Everything
I’ve become
                 Of my value
         Worried people can see the sadness induced insecurity that’s triggering desperate longing
   Craving the wrong places, people and choices because my haunted loves are right –
       short term escape is more tempting
     But it means ****** of who I was meant to be and I’m unwilling to sacrifice everything I fought for
                    Everything I am
                               My self-renaissance

                Today it’s a battle of tear stained lullabies and vintage heartbreak revivals
                        And I may be losing now
But I’ll be ****** if I lose the war

The strings
The notes
All familiar to me
Along the road
That’s been traveled on
And the one I've yet to drive
My therapist
My friend
As soon as I hear
That first string
I know
I'll be
OK

"I am a man on fire" he stated
                                               undeniably ablaze with passion.
       This would be a man I would love, I thought,
                             One I could have even a year ago when I was a woman lit with fire, but presently
the more accurate statement is,
            I am afraid and fighting for life

I keep trying to crack the code of how I got here again - lost in another addictions and multitasking distractions
     when the question truly is how did I believe I woudln't end up here?
When the truth is I will again until I sort my demons
                                                         I've been workin on it for years,
                                             and to my credit I suppose it's better and fewer haunt me
but
I'm here again
       wanting to want life but altering my reality via drugs

I was a victim
I am a victim
of abuse, and a heart that feels too much
                                          respectively,

So the idea of love is daunting because I have a black and blue history of finding people
who will hurt me
           because that was my home,
   that's what I lived
and at night, when no one can see
                            I believe it's what I deserve
    but I've learned that's wrong
The cycle, the habit, the belief as destructive as it is
is easier said than broken, but I'm trying

I would like to be like that man on fire.

For now I'll simply settle for a woman okay with being alive.
            Baby steps my lovely,
                             baby steps.