comes from the earth
a flower roughly
divulges tenderest
colours in early
morning dew lathered
becoming immutable
unbreaking

                      destroys

Ignore it.
                       The pain
         Goes away
                                       After everything

                      Turns black

Sometimes I wish you would just be real.
That you would be more
Than a phantasmal image of
Everything I want to be.

Sometimes I just want.
Sometimes I just want to pretend that I didn't know,
That you were joking.
I want you to see,
See the person you're acting to be.
The hazy image of a being
That you project into the fog.
Into the fog of your own breath.

I see you.
Sometimes you tell me phrases,
Moments, glimpses of who you are
Behind the mask of a jester's guise.
The joking face that isn't distorted with 
The scars of other's lives,
With scars of the days gone by
But now I suffer, yearning for them
Selfishly.

I know I won't burn away my facade but
Sometimes I wish
That you'd take off your paper mask
Just for me.
The mask that holds the blades
Away from your face.
That you'd feel the danger 
Of a close shave,
So I could hear those phrases.
Those honest phases.
Before you flicker back out.

I try to be light.

I attempt, in vain, to be
carefree and frivolous
when it comes to
matters of my heart.

I am unable, at crucial times
to keep the lead
out of my words
and my actions,
making them seem
unnecessarily weighted .

I know my behavior sometimes
frustrates you, my love.

I know that in trying to love you,
in trying to help you understand the
deeply analytical,fiercely passionate,
and obsessive mind and heart of mine,
I succeed only in creating a chasm
of misunderstanding between us.

I overwhelm you
with my emotional intensity.

Then, after I have pushed you away,
when all I wanted was to have you closer,
I cry out in selfish anguish,
"Why have you done this to me?"

I manifest my worst fears.

But with each silent, unspoken
step you take in retreat,
with each measure of distance
you recede from my shore,
know that I will love no other
so truly, so deeply.

I make no apologies for loving you.

I am but a man, scarred and wounded
from others before you.
I bear scars from you,as well,
as you do from me, and from others.

But I am alive now. We are alive, now.
These others have not extinguished
the light of hope burning so radiantly
in my chest,
and the wounds
we have given each other
are but scratches,
to be laughed at together
on some future fall afternoon,
as we sit in our warm bundles,
sipping coffee,
eating see-through waffles,
and discussing our day.

I am alive now and
I am learning how to give you my
love in a manner
that is easy for you
to accept and reciprocate.

I am learning how to
accept your love, so precious,
offered to few.

We are alive,now.
Alive and learning
and healing and loving,
with one another.

As long as you breathe, I will inhale you.

And after you are finished breathing,
when you have uttered your final words,
I will speak your sacred name in my throat.

I will  visit your grave perhaps once,perhaps often, not to say goodbye,
but to cry and laugh with you.

I will keep your memory alive in my bowels that held your love,
in my mouth that kissed your brow,glistening with sweat.
in the soles of my feet that  walked next to you in the market,
in the tips of my fingers that caressed your hair out of your eyes so many
times,
in my nose that captured your ever changing, ever lovely essence,
in my tongue, that called your name during our volcanic passions.

I will have your love in me still,
kiss your brow, always,
walk with you, forever,
sweep your hair, eternally,
smell you, endlessly,
and speak your name until the end of my days,
when                  is the last word that crosses my lips.

I will never love another.

on mine, after what should have been
the ultimate dealbreaker.

What is it about us?
I can only speak for myself;
I can't say no to your skin
My dearest, my darkest love.

Nobody but you has seen me as exposed,
as vulnerable.
Nobody has hurt me
like you have, with surgical precision and professional detachment.

I have my transgressions. I've wounded you as well.

Yet even with fresh blood on us,  we find a warm place to quietly lick our wounds together.

I do not write to create beautiful passages for others to enjoy,
Or for you,
Or because I feel the world needs  to hear what I have to say.
The world doesn't care about me.
I write not because I think I have a shred of talent.
Not  because I think I have profound wisdom to share.
I write about dogs and ****** and drinking and ******* and loving and dying and ******* and bleeding.

I write for the same reason I love you,
I have no choice.

Lately…I’ve been practicing sleeping.
I’ve had to take pills to make the thoughts in my head shut off,
Slow down,
Stop,
Long enough to catch some rest.

Now, one of the questions you may be pondering is: why?
Chances are, you know as much as me.
Though I do have a theory at this moment in time…
Maybe it’s because I have worries and fears,
Ones that aren’t always entirely mine.

For instance, my selachophobia can keep me up
All into the wee hours of the night.
A fear of sharks for those of you wondering
And no, I have NO idea as to the origin of this phobia,
Maybe you might...

But can you blame me, really?
Have you seen those things?!
They just aren’t right;

Heads shaped like torpedoes,
Black eyes that roll into the back of their heads,
Serrated sets of teeth like razor blades,
And you wonder why I can’t get to bed?!

It's been proven that some types of sharks
are so big that if they didn't live in the water
they'd be crushed by their own weight on land
Like whales left beached and dying on the hot, dry sand

Basically, anything that swims, floats or crawls in the deep,
THOSE are the creatures
that make me lose sleep!

Then, there are chalkboards,
Before you ask, no, they do not strike fear into my heart
I simply do not like to be near them
And the sound of peoples nails on them – no, no
...I refuse to even start

Then...there's this mouthful: Athazagoraphobia
Fear of being ignored, forgotten or forgetting.

See, ignored is something no one likes to be,
and forgetting is something I think everyone worries about
but being forgotten, left out or remaining unseen
Well, I can't imagine a worse destiny

But believe me,
I know where this phobia stems from.
It's my uncertainty of the future
Graduation's just one year to come...

I don't where I'll be going
I don't know if I'm going to stay
All I know for certain is that I'm going to lose contact with
some of them...someday

I worry that when people look back and think of me
That all they're ever going to see
Was girl with skirts and smiles
Bright eyes and wavy hair
they thought looked pretty.

Not a girl with thoughts
brimming from the tip of her tongue
Someone with a fiery determination
and a need to get things done

But, I suppose I'll have to accept
it's going to be just fine either way.
That all we're ever going to get to say,
are sweet nothings in passing
“Hi's” on each other's facebook walls

Nothing that really means anything
But I suppose that's just dandy, all in all.
The thing is though, I'm just not ready
Not ready to let go

To stop seeing them everyday
To no longer have them within arms-length
To hug and talk to and cuddle with
But for now, all I can do is pray

Pray that these good times will last
Make an imprint in my memory and theirs long enough to remain
Long enough to look back on when decades have passed
With absolutely no need to complain

I always want the comfort of knowing they'll be there
the very second I reach out and need them
Have them there on the other end of the line
To soothe me and keep my nerves at bay

But...eventually...I know we'll all be going our separate ways.

So...that's why I've been practicing sleeping
And I know I'm getting there
But the fears?
Well, the fears aren't really going to go anywhere.

I am not flawless nor do I claim to be

I am proud of the fact that I am a woman in deed

My body isn't small in fact I'm wide

I have large hips and a full chest

I am not one of these girls that walk around and pretend to be unreal

Nor do I want to be perfect because skinny girls hurt too

It dont make you any prettier than me

When a man holds me he can feel complete

I will represent all that is true

That loving someone regardless of there size is the TRUTH