walking away doesn't make me a coward in fact it makes me one strong *** *****. and let me tell you what i know about love, it ain't nothing my mama didn't warn me about and here i am ****** up over loving someone just as ****** up as myself. ****. How did i get here? Crying over a situation i walked willingly into.. Crying cause i give my ***** to nothing but heartbreakers and then wonder why my insides are always aching for love, when in reality that's all it ever was (that ache). Even so, i usually give him the benefit of the doubt and feed the cheese to the mouse (did i really just say that?). Aladdin will show me a whole new world and not even really know me, and yet i ask you, my best friend, what our future is and you can't show me.. Life. Life. A sentence i can't seem to handle since its just falling apart.. i can't even get ahead by showing a little heart.. and every struggle and every trial and tribulation and unfair situation while trying to find myself some salvation for the love of something upstairs CAN YOU HEAR ME? While you say YOU SHOULD FEAR ME and i do so i bow down to worship Him (You) and then when my eyes open i am still standing at the same edge of sanity within. **** i saw myself in the mirror fifteen minutes ago and the reflection sealed my fate; maybe i'll just stand here, watch myself deteriorate back into a recognizable state.. back into the ***** that was the center of everyone's hate.. back into the ***** that ran the show and always showed up late. Ha. Yeah. Life. **** it. It's a date.

The ***** hasn't kicked in yet and I know I shouldn't text you again so I won't because the ***** hasn't kicked in yet but maybe when I'm drunker I could send you a text about how much I hate the fact that I lost my virginity to you or how much I hate the fact that I still text you when I'm drunk that would be pretty **** meta my throat burns but I'm trying not to drink too much water because the ***** hasn't kicked in yet and I'm trying not to cry because my parents got divorced two years ago and everyone else seems to be coping fine but I still break down when my dad talks about how much he loves my mom and he's getting married soon and I wonder if she knows she's his second choice and I wonder if it breaks her heart as much as it breaks mine and my parents haven't seen each other in months because it makes my dad sad to see what he is missing but I think if he saw my mom more often he would realize he isn't missing much because since he left she's been drinking and he never liked her when she drank because she gets too honest and cries too much and she told me my friends were weird and I used to think drunk words were lies but that boy told me he loved me and two years later it turns out it was true and I wish he had told me sooner because it would have saved me a lot of heartbreak and maybe we could have been something and I would text him right now but he never likes it when I drink because I remind him of himself and that terrifies him and he got back from rehab a few months ago and he's been different ever since and I don't like the new him and he used to hate people like him but I guess he's happy now I hope he's happy now I thought he'd stopped drinking until he mentioned grabbing a beer I don't know if he's still taking pills but I hope not because I really do love that boy like a brother or a lover it changes a lot and he's going into the military and I want more than anything to kiss him good bye but I don't know if he still wants me and I don't want to make him sad and he's been pretty mean lately but I think it's just the boys he's been hanging out with and my brother says he's changed so much they hardly ever talk now and I remember when they used to be best friends and I hate what time does to people and the ***** is starting to kick in now do you see what time does to people I still have some left I poured myself a juice glass of grapefruit flavored liquor and I don't know how many shots it equates to but I hope it's a lot I need to stop thinking tonight I want to puke my guts out I want a hangover I want to teach myself a lesson but I never ******* learn I don't know if I'll ever stop drinking sometimes I want to die by the time I'm 25 and I think maybe if it's an accident no one would be so upset so if I got in a car accident no one would think I was depressed if I drove off an overpass people would use my story as a drunk driving prevention program but they wouldn't think I left them on purpose and that's all I need I will live my life quickly and leave just as fast because I hate what time does to people and I do not want to be a victim of the clock

We met a coffee shop.

Not a Starbucks or a Caribou or anything fancy like that, it was just a plain local coffee shop that served mediocre java and salted lunch meat on stale bread.

The menu was impressive enough to keep the place open, and after all, it's where I met the man who changed my life.

I pretended to be engulfed in a rather boring Sparks novel that I grabbed off the counter to pass the time when he sat down across from me.

His hair was black. His suit was black. His shoes were black. His skin was a smooth drinkable ivory that only accentuated his stunning green eyes. He was typing away furiously on his laptop, but amidst his deep trance, something broke his concentration.

****.

He caught me looking. Frazzled, I motion for the waitress that doesn't see me to come over and refill my already half full cup. Fill it with some of that mediocre coffee of course.

****.

She doesn't come, but he does. He says my deep brown eyes, caramel skin, and tight curls made him want to write poetry. Anyone worthy of that type of inspiration must be approached, is what he said.

I tell him my name. He goes by William. I never got his last name and I guess it didn't matter. By the time we downed our burnt brazilian roast, we were headed out the door in search for a more intimate setting as if where we were hadn't been quiet enough.

I don't now what made me bring him to my apartment, the eighth floor, sitting on the patio soaking in the sounds of the city below us while sweet white wine ravished our veins.

I knew what was coming.

He commented on my blouse, said how it made love to my breast in a way no man ever could. He said my hips were like curvaceous lilly valleys winding around the hills of Maine. He said my hair was sunkissed with natural bronzer that shined eloquently at the turn of each curl. And as his hand brushed my cheek, he spoke of my dimples and how they were perfectly placed upon my smile blessing anyone whom could successfully create one.

As I came out of my bra, he kissed my neck and kissed my chest and kissed and kissed and kissed until he found what he was looking for. He told me my skin was soft as satin and sweet as sugar right off the cane. When my jeans fell to the floor, he traced his lips along my ***** line, saying he had never desired so badly to taste wild honey.

When I was naked and vulnerable at the mercy of his will, he examined me like a feast as if he didn't know where to begin. He entered me so softly, I could hardly tell he was there. He told me I was beautiful. He told me I was perfect. He told me it was tight and wet and he didn't want to be anywhere else in this **** of a world but right here inside me.

I see stars. I see the sun. I see the highest mountain tops after a soothing rain. I see moonlight on a hot summer night and the beauty in the auburn colors on an October afternoon.

William not only rocked my world; he painted it. His hands carried such an elegance about them that my body ached for his touch even more so. With every moan that escaped my lips, he spoke poetry into my ear. Telling me to "look up and imagine Paris" and "close your eyes and build a dream". All of his mumbo jumbo made sense in a weird kind of way.

I always thought people only climaxed at the same time in movies because that's just something you can't schedule. It slowly sneaks up on you like a tiger in the wild, and just when you think you've lost him; BAM. That's when your ten seconds of ohmyfuckinggoshdontstoprightthere kicks in and you realize it was the best ten seconds of your day and of your life up to that very point.

As swiftly and beautifully as he came, he was gone. But before he left me feeling empty and full at the same time, my previous infatuation and excitability had made me succumb to his trance, and I hardly even remembered what (if anything) of which we spoke.

I say to him, "William, please tell me. Who are you? What is your last name?"
His answer baffles me, and doesn't make any **** sense; "You will find me as the candle in the wind, the condensation on a glass, and the fruitful taste of white zin on your tongue in the heat of the day."

And with that he left.
He left me standing there sticky and lonely and satisfied and mad all at once. I figured I may as well clean up my mess, clean up myself, and continue to rule the day.

I begin a motion to take the sheets off the bed and roll them up in a burrito of sin when I had stopped and realized I didn't want any latex melting in the dryer.  
I search for it. Like, really search for it.

Ok, it's not under the bed.

Where is it?

Not in the burrito that I just tore apart.
Not in the garbage.
Not in his hands when he left.
My eyes never left him.
Or did they?

****.

Valleys and flowers and sunshine and stupid *** Paris. STUPID. ***. PARIS.
All that madness and stupid weird *** just ****** me off. It caught me off guard. That wasn't me back there, careless Carrie. No. No.
That wasn't me.

**** it.
I need to shower.


[....to be continued...]

Embraced in your grasp so, I gaze into your ocean blue eyes, and I am loss in a sense of fantasy and ecstasy; which so happens to be far from reality. Although I don't care to be near reality, because it means that I can continue to be near you. So let this dream become our own reality, and let it mold our worlds into one, and let it carry on our deepest emotions and our most secret devotions until not even the tick of an awakening nightmare could tear us apart.

Close your eyes and dream with me my love; take hold of my hand and fly with me into the depths of our hearts. Let us create our own universe and state of euphoria in a land of precise perfection. The love we feel can combine with our imaginations so that even our natural world could never compete. Are you with me my love? Are you ready to live the dream of dreams?

I remember when I was in the hospital and I didn't sleep for two days straight because I swore to god that if I did the demons would step out from under the bed and seep into my head.

I remember when it was three am, and I was shaken awake from the girl three doors down shrieking from the night terrors that her mother embedded into her skull with her fist and a belt when she was eight. But, they were then stored away until she was thirteen years old and a man swore that he'd beat her if she didn't cooperate. So, now they hide during the day, and creep back up when the sun falls.

I remember when I witnessed a boy unintentionally scratch at his skin until he bleed for an hour because the voices inside of his mind told him that if he didn't hurt anyone else, he would just have to hurt himself. and he swears he'd never hurt anyone besides himself.

I remember when I met a girl who had cuts up and down her arms and legs from when her mother told her she'd never survive the world because she isn't good enough. But, I swear to god that she was the strongest person I've ever met.

I remember when my roommate stayed up all night rocking with bloodshot eyes and deep purple circles underneath of them because she swore that if she slept the monsters inside of her head would crawl out and bleed into her soul.

I remember when the boy five doors down hit the wall so hard that it shook the entire unit because he hallucinated a man and a little girl trying to strangle him, and he swore he could feel the noose around his neck.  

even through all of this, for some odd reason teenagers think it's lovely to have deep scars and to hear voices telling them to **** themselves and everyone around them. I swear, nothing is lovely about demons eating at your brain and thoughts.

I remember when it was four am, and I was up weeping from the fact that people think my suffering is lovely.

I can swear to you, it's not.

So you want to be kind, and all I ask is for a piece of your life.  I immediately jump off the cliff of conclusions and want what I simply cannot have. Please, whatever you decide to do, remain as open and honest as you can make me believe. And when you decide to put me down, will you lay me down easy?

For moments at a time in the short hours we've shared, I've fallen down the side of a mountain of despair and have enclosed my heart even though you have already been there. I cannot hide from you because you know me too well. Hidden deep in the lines, had you planned to deceive me?

I feel no less than a fool than to have opened my heart. Ashamed and embarrassed I showed you too much and now even you can see through my veil; and you know places in my world to the smallest detail. If I broke down like glass and said you really did hurt me, in an attempt to desert me, would you believe me?

We shared fragments of new beginnings that flourished in its own light. We were the food in our own bellies and the sun in the night. For every emotion raging inside you provided a safe place for my poet to hide.  But as rejection sinks into the skin, I feel the raging storm within me.  The storm we had created intently, and yet, evidently, I am standing alone in the left over rain wondering; why did you leave me?

I am utterly and totally (not limited to completely) dazed and confused in a dark alley of emotions in the midsection of an endless tunnel that leads to possibilities of the unknown. I have already made my choice; I have already chosen my path miles back, and I have traveled long enough to know that I am in far too deep to change my mind. I touch the walls for a message from the blind but even they can't lead me. And so with no other choice but to step forward into the vast night, I pray on the Lord to comfort me and to guide me, in hopes  that the demons within my own soul may never find me. And when all is said and done I hope I can find my way back into what I know, back into what feels right; back into the light.

I sit at your bedside to provide you comfort and a true friendship that only one of the dying could ever understand. I hold your hand as you struggle to breathe, and I silently pray you find some relief, and I wipe the beads of sweat from your face and whisper let it be. And once you have finally let go of this world in the most satisfying of peace, and once your soul has taken flight from this very moment to be, I thank God for allowing me to spend it with you. When my time arrives, I can only hope there is such a caring spirit to fulfill such a dire need.

She wore legs of velvet lined with skin of silk. And as her legs churned like the sea, her eyes began to glisten with memories of the past. The past was laying right before her, gazing deeply back at her, threatening to penetrate her iris and on into her brain. That was the last thing she wanted, for him to be in sync with her thoughts and heartbeat. So much so that it was only by the pure twist of fate that she lay here with him on this night. Tonight was supposed to be free, supposed to be without worry or fear, she did not plan on meeting him tonight. And yet, though she carefully planned and negated any sort of interaction with him, fate had its way in leading them together. She wasn't supposed to have missed the train, she wasn't supposed to have had to walk to the corner store and buy an umbrella. Yes, if she had not missed that steaming, insignificant train, she would have not had to wait in the rain. And if she had not walked into that stupid, tiny corner store for an umbrella, she would have never bumped into Angie. And by the grace of God, if she had not met Angie at that corner store, she would have not been talked into catching a few drinks with her. How could Angie have known? And if it wasn't for that naive, miscalculated decision to step inside the bar, she would have never seen him. If only she could turn back the hands of time and leave the house a few minutes sooner, she would not be laying right next to him, trying so hard at not falling in love with him again. And yet, there he was, laying right next to her, stroking her forehead as he slowly kissed the trail of his fingers. Behind her smile and closed eyes, a war raged. A fight between head and heart, a fight to the death, a fight that had been raging for years. And as her breath deepened as he kissed down her chest, she decided that for tonight, heart would win.

It's the smell of a mild summer evening. The grass, an occasional bloom mixed with overheated lawnmower and gasoline undertones. It's simplicity and classic rock love songs; U2's The Sweetest Thing. It is complete satisfaction overall, with a pang of uncertainty niggling at that fact. It's when the windows are rolled down with the wind blowing in your face, buffeting your hair. It's the sun shining through the trees--blinking and flashing like a strobe light. Hurts your eyes. Look away. Headache.
It's hearing beautiful things as if underwater. It's having a great idea but no means When you want to say something, but don't have the words. It's you. It is all of you and thank you.

You,


I need you to come back and rock me to sleep so that the demons don’t show up tonight. I need you to pretend that you still love me.

With you I had endless dreams of falling through the rabbit hole, the psychedelic rays of the earth would tickle my feet and I would lean in closer to you, knowing that I was safe. Without you the red queen swallows me whole and the rabbit runs away leaving me in a darkness so cold and empty, just like the mug of coffee that still sits on your bedside table.

I need you to come back and rock me to sleep while you stargaze upon the constellation of freckles scattered across my spine. Allow my mind to connect with yours so that I can get drunk off the colours of the sky and giggle at the sound of my own breath.

I need you to come back and rock me to sleep because I cannot close my eyes without seeing flashbacks of you in my memories. It plays over and over like a record stuck on repeat. Your song feels like daggers in my ears. My stomach aches because without you the butterflies are replaced with wasps stinging me as each second passes.

I need you to come back and rock me to sleep while you whisper in my ear the excuses as to why you left me in the first place. I need you to hold me so close that I am overwhelmed with the need to question my existence. I need you to rip apart my chest and force your way back into my bleeding heart, even though we both know you never left to begin with.

I need you to come back and rock me to sleep.




Me.