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Jan 2014 · 447
Breathless Mornings
Dillon Jan 2014
I used to live for those mornings
when you wake up
and have to catch your breath
because you've been dreaming about someone all night.

It's been so long since I've felt this.
Jan 2013 · 462
But It's Gone
Dillon Jan 2013
And you lost it.  It wasn't your fault; you didn't do anything wrong, but it's gone.  It's almost harder that way because you had no control - no say in the matter.  You had to just sit there and watch the sand slip through your fingers.
Jan 2013 · 458
The Mirror
Dillon Jan 2013
Have you seen the view
from the other side of the mirror?

I have.

I can see your beauty.
I can read those lips.

Have you seen what I see?
Have you seen what takes my breath away?

There are hours lost in those eyes.
There are things you will never see
from your side of the mirror.
Jan 2013 · 510
June 16, 2012
Dillon Jan 2013
I wonder what you tell your friends about me
   if you tell your friends about me.
I wonder what it would be like to meet your parents
   to shake your fathers hand and give your mother that awkward hug.

I wonder if we would make it.
If the paradox of meeting an amazing person at a terrible time
would gouge a hole in the feelings that have kept us afloat lately.
If only, if only...

If only I had met you before
   I could have changed your mind; made you stay.
If only I had met you after
   we could have experienced youth uninterrupted

Instead we struggle.
At least, I struggle
   and I selfishly like to think that you do too.
Only because I want these feelings to be reciprocated.

What could have been.
What may still be.
I wonder.
Will it last?
Nov 2012 · 1.2k
I'm not sober
Dillon Nov 2012
Wait, go back
Go back!
It's not over yet!
It didn't end like this.
I know it. I know it.

I know this story,
I've read these lines.
Next you're supposed to say
"                           "
Or some other witty, beautiful words
that drown me in my guilt.
And I'll just stutter and stammer
and trip over my words like
that time in May
when you tripped on that root
on our hike in New Hampshire.

I hand you a lollipop.

What the ****! Why
would I hand her a lollipop?

I hand you a bleeding heart
and you examine it.
You **** it.
You write your name on it and
carefully - HAH! - horrendously you force it down my throat.
Swallow.

But after all of this,
I still know that in this twisted
***-backwards, convoluted world
I am still head over heels for you.
I'm still the same, perfectly sane, guy you knew before.

Ribbit.
Aug 2012 · 646
The Blind Eye
Dillon Aug 2012
God closed his eyes that night,
but I don't blame him.
Even God needs to sleep sometimes.

At just seventeen,
Timmy never saw the truck that killed him.
Never saw the blood and ***** on the asphalt.
God closed his eyes that night,
but nobody blames him.
Even God needs to sleep sometimes.

A little girl was taken that night.
Beaten and *****.
Innocence stolen and beauty forgotten.
God closed his eyes that night,
but her parents don't blame him.
Even God needs to sleep sometimes.

Even God needs to sleep sometimes.
Aug 2012 · 473
Perspective
Dillon Aug 2012
Why is it that I enjoy words of
pain, sorrow, and fear?
Why do I surround myself
with the things I am trying to escape?

I tell myself not to continue,
that if I surround myself
with beauty and hope
these things will come to me.

And yet I continue.
Maybe if I see the most horrific
then the bad won't seem
all that bad in comparison.
Aug 2012 · 411
When You Come Back
Dillon Aug 2012
It's like this:
I'm supposed to love you,
To cherish you,
To keep you in my heart through
All that is bad
And all that is unfathomable alone.

But where are you?
What has happened to you?
I see you. I can touch you,
Smell you, hear you
But I can't feel you.
You are gone.

When you come back
I will be here
With open arms
And open eyes.
But I can't chase you.
Not anymore.
Jun 2012 · 645
For You, My Father
Dillon Jun 2012
I'm waiting for father to thank me
I did what he asked.
I'm waiting for him to tell me
what a good job I've done
what a good boy I am.

I'm waiting for father to sweep down
with open arms
and scoop me from my feet.
To laugh with me as he picks me up
high above his head.

I'm waiting for father to look at me
with the same eyes that he has
for the glass in his hand
and the amber liquid
that fills the hollowness of it's invisible walls.
Dillon Jun 2012
The paradox of timelessness and love
which haunts us with a sense of urgency.

It beats with more viscosity than my blood.
It fills my lungs more than oxygen ever could.
I started with the words "a paradox of timelessness and love" and knew I wanted to expand on that idea.  I've been toying with this for hours and I'm hitting the backspace key more than anything else.  I'm asking for your help, a collaborative effort of sorts. Feel free to suggest anything, but I want to keep that phrase intact, and I want to maintain the theme described in the first two lines.  Even if you don't contribute, pass it along and share this so that others may offer their "two cents".  I look forward to seeing the results!
Jun 2012 · 444
Watch Kill Love
Dillon Jun 2012
Watch
me
as
I
face
my
demons.

Watch me turn, pivoting on my heels, to stare down the poisonous nature of my own mind.

****
me
if
I
go
too
far.

Crazed, a man can only bear what he is meant to bear.

Love
me
when
I
return.

Victoriously, or not at all.
Jun 2012 · 427
Alone and Alone
Dillon Jun 2012
Watching hands slide to hold
Only fingertips, lingering
Until finally they separate
Leaving owner and owner
Alone and alone
Jun 2012 · 406
To Take
Dillon Jun 2012
The wolves come at night
To take
To take away from us

And so we hide
In the trees we are invisible
In the night we aren't alone
Jun 2012 · 788
The Café
Dillon Jun 2012
I keep having a dream
over and over again
of you, sitting cross-legged
at the table with me
in some dim-lit, dusty-shelf café
with a twenty dollar menu
and a cat that won't stop staring me down.

You don't sip your coffee
but you spin the styrofoam cup slowly around in circles.
Disappointed with me, clearly.
Some dim-witted, dusty-haired man
with a twenty-dollar haircut
asks, "do you need a refill?"

He's referring to the now-cold, still-full cup
you've been staring at
for the past twenty minutes.
"No thanks, this one's fine."
As if you've actually been
sipping it instead of staring me down.

An old man in the booth behind you
starts telling a story to a younger man
twenty years his junior
about how he met his wife
in a coffee shop all to similar to this.
Irony in a coffee shop.

He went on to tell
all about his wife.
Beautiful blonde hair, green eyes
the legs of a goddess
and the voice of an angel.
"The perfect woman," he said.

But you're clearly not listening
distracted by the conversation
that we're having
(in your head, that is).
I think I'm losing that battle...
Meanwhile, there's a cat that keeps staring me down.

I hadn't noticed until then
you had taken your ring off.
A pale band of skin
gave away what you were trying to hide.
As if to say
"Nice try, *****!"

My dream never ends.
I mean, I wake up
but the dream itself is never resolved.
I don't know if I want it to be.
I'd rather spend twenty dollars to watch some kittens dance
and pretend that everything is okay.

— The End —