you're the kind of girl
that they write books about
i always thought you were fiction
but i can't even remember
the last time i finished a good book
i always drop it at the ******
maybe it's because
we never reached ours
speaking of not being able to finish things

[holyoak]

She sat in the old armchair,
In the winter of her life.
The last of her sisters;
A once comfortable wife.

With bony white finger
She traced the pattern of her chair;
Withered from age
Like the strands of her hair.

For her kids had come and gone.
Her fears, she passed them on.
An ok husband she had;
A time long ago, a time not so bad.

'Love' and spouse,
Kids and house
Were the choices she made.
Unbeknownst to her,
The passion she had
Was bound to fade.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That man in the corner,
At the end of his days.
A bottle of whiskey;
A familiar haze.

His cold empty house
Devoid of all life.
Followed his heart;
Never took he a wife.

Passion and success
(which he had to confess)
Were great (for awhile).
These were the choices that he made.
Unbeknownst to him,
His desire for love would never fade.

At the end of the night
All wrapped up in warm covers and plight,
He contemplated the answers to his
Internal fight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tell unto me
Which one was right?

Its hard to bare your reflection when your disturbed by the image it makes. As you stare into the mirror, your faced to deal with your mistakes.

The truth of the matter is you can lie to the world, and live the life of an actor. You can portray yourself in many ways, but when you look in the mirror, you view the truth that you cant escape.

Your just a pawn playing social chess just to be accepted, by interested impressionist. I stray far away and ignore getting ****** in, to associating with manican's  that pretend to be your friends.

The social ladder is filled with actors, lies, and insecurities. So I judge alone by actions shown, and only trust my certainties.

Most people base their judgements by your appearance and your current status. I guess my designs unique, I base my judgements by your actions.

I stay true to myself, I'm not eager to be accepted. I view my friends as family and I'm willing to die for my investments.

For all the time that I've invested, I  would give my life to provide protection. Because quality over quantity, is the "ONLY" acceptable method of friendship!

I flee from the masses
And fly to the rooftops
Up the worn staircase
To the confines of my mind

Within the loneliness
The ever-changing thoughts
The shatters of memories
I am trapped.

No new messages.

I don’t know where you are on the other side of the screen. But I want to know. Badly.

No new messages.

I’m not sure what I’ve become, in these seconds, of being patient.

No new messages.

My soul only wants one thing, I realize: You. Your attention. Your sympathy. Your words to make me feel better.

No new messages.

I’m going crazy now. I want you, your touch through words. I want to know that you’re listening to my thoughts. That you’re here for me.

No new message.

My patience is running out, my love for you is too. Staring at a screen, wanting something only you can give.

What has my life become? I am nothing. Saving time for you to talk to me, when I should concentrate on what’s important.

No new messages.

My life is useless. I am looking for the wrong goal. But I keep staring, hoping you’d somehow send me a message, telling me it’s ok.

No new messages.

I’m tired. I’m sorry. I can’t stop being the crazy girl I am. But I’m in love, that’s all I can say.

No new messages.

I get it, you’re not online. Fine. I’ve stopped caring. What’s the point? Forget you. I hate you. I wish we’d never met.

No new messages.

Yes, I’m still here. Can’t you see? It’s been hours, I’ve been staring at this screen since you said you’d be here. I’m not ready to give up. Are you there, somehow?

No new messages.

I’ve tried, but it’s getting late. I’m sorry. Even though I know you’re not here. Please know that I still care.

I type in a new message and then sign out.

I Love You.

I should be laying beside you,
with my hand between your legs,
my head on your ***** - while listening to you
murmur out your dreams.

I should be laying beside you,
carving your sleeping body
with things I would like us to do;
to each other when you wake up.

I should be laying beside you,
listening to you tell me about the times;
in your life;
when you and I were strangers.

I should be laying beside you;
for when you and I were born,
the empty sides of our beds -
are place holders for when we are finally together.

I should be laying beside you,
because that’s where I want to be right now;
juxtaposed your body.