I sit on my couch and I stare,

Waiting for it,

Waiting for something that will never come.

The day that one hurt that builds and builds and builds inside

Abruptly crushes itself.

I just stare into my white ceiling.

It blocks my view of the future.

I have but a piece of myself,

But I need another piece;

Another half, another filler, another blocker, another lover,

And that’s my problem.

I go to sleep every night,

Seeing those I have forced myself to love,

Those I used as halves and fillers as blockers as lovers,

And failed.

It’s not hard to conceal.

Nothing is hard.

Everything is easy.

Easy is weak.

Easy is loving when they don’t love you, easy is compassion.

Which is why that won’t change about me.

I am compassionate and that is a weakness.

I will keep chasing and chasing after people so that I can get by,

So I can be my other half, my filler, my blocker, my lover.

I’ll find that person, but until then,

I’ll be waiting.

Why can’t I stop loving you like I do?

Waking up at midnight, staring out,

Wondering what on God’s green earth you are doing.

I could just as easily approach your angelic boundary,

But it will hurt me.

I must play that game of keep away,

Keeping away love, keeping away emotions, keeping away myself,

So I do not hurt myself using you.

So just know,

I cant speak, I can’t think, I can’t feel

Without you.

It is my choice for that.

I enforce that hurt to make myself stronger,

To make myself better, to make myself for you.

Perhaps in the future.

But more than likely, you’ll refuse me again.

Ignore me, throw me away like garbage.

And I’ll be stuck waking in the middle of the night,

Playing that game of keep away one more time.

The afterglow of your beauty strikes my eye

And I can’t help but to glare closely at all those angelic features:

Eyes like mahogany,

Smooth and strong enough to move the strongest bull;

Hair like whips,

Flowing into the soul and constricting the heart;

Last but certainly not least, a smile

That can burn impurities of the soul

And mend a broken heart.

No mortal can resist burning flames

In the eyes of a type of person not defined by words,

But by its victims,

Suffering from suffocation of the body, soul, and spirit.

The inability to construct a thought

Is overwhelming in its presence.

As the tendrils of beauty strike the heard and mind

Until they bow to its raw power,

The scorching brightness of its glow will be shielded by my will

To receive its blessing in the art of love.

As I delve into a realm of insanity,

The only branch I grasp on the way is the presence of duality.

The ability to present two feelings.

No complexities or trees of decisions.

One mindset is implemented, the other concealed,

But I am only able to experience both.

Twisted roots of my darkest thoughts combine with the desire to love

And propel me down a path where darkness prevails

And I creep closer to my doomsday

Ties that bind my soul outreach to claw your being with it’s three tendrils:

One of love, one of hate, one of necessity.

Love clasps hardest in darkest times,

Hate clasps hardest in brightest,

And necessity’s a common squeeze.

As obligations rest on shoulders and travels rest on feet,

This need rests on hearts,

Leaving a sensation that will make you love a man forever

Or hate every essence of his soul.

The reflection you create in the infinite mirrors of reality

Is marvelous in every aspect.

Every glint unique, every fracture of light brighter than any star.

Your rare soul rises above the rest.

Others share similar fractures, while yours do not exist.

Others share deceiving images, while yours captures with no flaw.

The angelic, irreplaceable, on in a life time woman you are.