We laughed
Until we couldn't breathe
Not even knowing
What in the world
Was so funny
It was wonderful

Dear Faby,

If you are reading this
I am very mad at you
You promised
You wouldn't look for me on here
I showed you some of my poetry
But all that I was willing to share
The rest is too personal
For your ears

I love you
My dear friend
But please don't continue reading
It's an invasion of my privacy

Attracted to the broken
Like myself
I yearn to be fixed
To make amends
To feel once again
To wake up to my favorite person at my side
It’s not in the cards for me
And it wasn’t for you
So broken
No matter the repairs
I’ll never feel like new
Find me in a thrift store
Along with the other gems
Marked down due to being used

All I ever wanted was for someone to listen
I wanted someone to pay attention
To tell me things would get better
And that happiness would last forever
I wanted someone to give me advice
All about my life to notice
I wanted someone to understand
To support and lend me a hand
I wanted someone who'd never leave me alone
To know me from deep inside my bone
I wanted someone to love me
As far as the end of the galaxy
I wanted someone to treat me with respect
To make me feel a little perfect
I wanted someone to make me feel special
And to not make my life seem so small
I wanted someone to wipe away all of my tears
Helping me get over my fears
I wanted someone to be my friend
To always bring my misery to an end

I have a fascination with
all things love,
Daydreams constructing expectations
and a daily need for a thing which
I have yet to experience,
It's an obsession which has
evolved into a fear ~
Fear of a broken heart,
of a lonely life,
of distracted dreams.

~ Funny my ability to
overthink.

Our bed
One we'll
Share in the future
Where I rest my eyes
And you occasionally do too
Where the stains
Of our passion
Appear
Where our child
Shall be made
The bed they'll
Crawl into after having
A nightmare
The bed we grow older in
Each night trusting it
To be gentle
With our bodies
That are growing frail
Our bed
Where we'll leave this world
Our bed where many
Laughs
And moans
And secrets will be told
Our bed
The one to carry us through
Our journey of life.

Her bed
Isn't as interesting
As it used to be.
Her bed
Isn't as enticing
Anymore
To me.

Her bed
Has become
The bed
Of non-marital
Of non-committal
Separation,
Where an imaginary
But real
Wall
Blocks all intimacy
And separates us.
It has become
Holy
And wholly
Immune
To all and every
Non-existent touch,
Immune
To all and every
imagined intimacy
Contrived
Or concocted love.


Her bed
Has become
Just a place
To half-sleep
Half-dream
To lay my head.
Her bed
Has become
Still
Life-
Less,
Loveless,
And the place of
The love-dead.

Her bed
Makes me want to fly away home
To my own
Home
And bed
Though I'll be just as lonely
And alone
As when
I'm in
Her bed.
Her bed
Makes me want to fly away home
To the only true love
I've ever known;
Fly away, fly away
To Jesus
And up to holy heaven
high above
Far away from
The heart
Innocuous,
The heart
Inoculated
Against love.

I need to get her
Out
Of my heart,
Of my head
I need to
Get myself
Home
And out of
Her bed.

Lie down with me.
We can sleep together.
For I have made this bed.
This bed of pillow and feather.
This castle of comforters with the towers of pillows and the throne of blankets and the crown of bliss.
It is easy to escape the stress and the work of the real world.
This bed is soft and cozy, always warmer than the air surrounding it.
Lie down with me.
Lie down in this bed and turn your life inside out.
I use this bed to leave behind everything I probably need to worry about.
A tickle in my back.
I cover my eyes with the sheets to get away from the fear.
The fear of you moving on and me staying here.
The fear of falling behind.
But this bed is comforting and calming and I don’t mind to fall behind, to fall into bed.
The tickle in my back grows stronger so I flip my pillow over to the cold side and bury my body in the soft, rolling hills of my comforter.
This bed is helpful to me.
You don’t see it yet but that is because you haven’t felt it.
I have slept in the bed of the gods and I know I will never leave.
The stars left their spots in the sky and they’re under the sheets listening to me grieve.
The moon tucked me in and promised never to deceive.
If you just listen you’ll start to believe.
The tickle in my back begins to sharpen.
This bed dulls the pain.
This bed.
This bed.
I love this bed and it loves me.
This bed is soft blues and softer pinks.
This bed is happy yellows and calming lavenders.
I wish you could see the sheets from underneath.
The tickle in my back has become a very sharp pain, and it’s stinging me over and over again.
But this bed will protect me.
Won’t it?
This bed was made for me to sleep in.
I lift my sheets and crawl completely under, happy to be protected and warm.
The stings in my back hurt.
Oh God, they hurt.
I rub at them because even with my body wrapped up completely in the sheets of my bed, they hurt.
My hand comes back ******.
I turn over to look at my bed and I see that what you told me is true.
I see why the only person who didn’t crawl into this bed is you.
I see why your heart has hurt, and my back has hurt, too.
I see what it is now that drove me off the rails.
I see why my ears only hear sobs and wails.
I see why the pain in my life always prevails.
I see that this bed I have made is a bed of nails.
I have fallen from grace, the slowest in the race.
This bed I use is just a brace, a brace to fill the empty space.
This realization I have to face, I have no pain I have embraced.
So I let this pillow case become a hiding place.
But this bed is wrong.
This bed is deceiving.
This bed.
This bed.
The nails grow longer and longer, into my back.
They push themselves into my spine and forward into my heart and lungs and stomach.
This bed has me trapped, unable to move.
The nails have grown through me, binding me to this bed for all eternity.
This bed is pain.
This bed is suffering.
I try to cry out to you for help but I’m buried under the sheets.
What once was comforting is smothering me now.
Wake me up.
What once was welcoming is poisonous now.
Please.
Wake me up.
What once was my bed is now my coffin.
I’m begging you to please wake me up.
This bed.
Oh, this bed.
This bed is evil.