There is one in every corner of this building.
I just want to be alone.
Go find another one.
I waited and
I do not know what this is supposed to
I am sure it had nothing to do with
I am sure it has everything to do with
Sitting here, in this dark room.
***** white blinds,
and a bed sheet runs through.
A temporary bed on the kitchen floor.
Looking through smoke filled air,
I can't say I don't want more.
An elderly couple,
In a car,
On a highway,
And two old bikes strapped to the rear.
You are helpless,
You are miserable,
There is nothing I can do,
I know you are gone.
She looks at him, full of regret and sorrow.
He stares back, his eyes expressing genuine sadness.
All of the pressure has taken over her.
Everything she wants, she shouldn't.
Everything needed for social survival, she doesn't want.
Today I found out that I am alone.
No one to turn to,
and no where to call home.
Shouldn’t we want to be ugly?
To have someone love us,
and be aesthetically incompetent.
There would be no doubt,
no doubt in my mind.
That is to be truly loved.
Who wouldn’t want that?
a gasp of breath.
The slight sound,
a single word with endless depth.
Never-ending thoughts leave me lost,
in seas of awe.
Painting pictures of your mind,
thoughts forever without flaw.
Something that could take us anywhere,
anywhere at all we want to go.
That was where we were,
where we diminished the disconnection between us.
We know that we are capable of anything,
but only as we.
it became our possibility.
nothing at the
do not exist.
I stood from your bed.
My back towards you,
As you said,
"The most perfect silhouette."
You grabbed me,
"Don't leave yet."
I never wanted to leave,
But did anyway.
Something is not right.
I could not stay.
I don’t know what to write today.
So I don’t.
But I will again.
And then I won’t.
The excitement of it all.
To go here.
To go there.
To go anywhere at all.
The thrill of it all.
To get it.
To be happy.
To finally have you here with me.
I didn't expect it happen fast.
Or at all
considering my past.
What I hoped for though
was more than this.
Something you mentioned to me
after a kiss.
The thing is you have been in love with someone.
As have I.
And now it ends.
Unattainable love is real to most people. Putting it aside to try to find attainable love with someone else is sometimes very hard.
I don't know what I care about.
What I don't care about.
I'm taking a break from this paper,
that I certainly don't care about,
nor do I not care about.
So this is it.
These words on this paper.
This is what stresses.
How ******* stupid.
Sure, I'll see you.
See you ------
I'm not feeling inspired.
Realizing you have not inspired me.
I am surely not crazy.
There are way crazier out there.
I am surely not a lunatic.
I surely do not hear things that are not there to hear.
I surely do not see things that are not there to see.
No one would lock me up, nor would they restrain me.
I am free.
I am not crazy and I am free.
To not feel crazy would be really cool.
You were my first.
You were my longest, real thing.
I don't know why I didn't open myself up to you more.
I remember when you told me you "weren't looking for anything".
But, that you still enjoyed my company and cared about me more than most people.
This happened when you lost your job.
You were outside, exchanging words with some sort of boss.
I looked out at this through your window, shivering, naked.
I knew it wasn't good.
I got up, put my clothes on, and walked to my car.
You immediately saw me and followed.
I got in, you got in.
You asked me to come back inside, that it was cold and we could lay in bed and forget whatever was happening.
I didn't go back inside.
I went to see someone else, someone I shouldn't have.
I told you I was going home.
I wish I would have stayed with you.
Maybe things would be different now.
Maybe things wouldn't be different now.
It was a hard time for you.
The anniversary of your mother's suicide, the loss of your job.
You were in no shape for me, I know.
And I didn't even know I loved you until it all ended.
This is hard.
I am only here.
It's not for you,
I am only here.
I am only here.
Maybe not even for myself.
Your passion for knowing,
that’s what I love.
Is what I am.
He sees it, she sees it, you see it.
Never finding words.
That's what boring is.
Talking to myself
Keeps me safe.
Safe and boring.
That is what I will be.
Crashing waves of inspiration and
Desk. Shelf. Lamp.
Mind wandering, but,
mostly to your body touching mine.
I've gone dumb.
But I see your figure in the shadows.
You are so beautiful.
So I will turn around
— The End —