in the end, it doesn't matter. it'll always be the memory of the one who got away that clouds your judgement and ruins your conscience. the one who destroyed the word love for you. the one who made everyone else meaningless.
as dreadful as it sounds, you crave that hurt because it's so much better than feeling nothing at all. even though, you cry yourself to sleep and try to numb the pain in any way you can. you want to feel, then you long for the numbness that leaves you when you do. -hvj
the clouds looked like they were suspended there by strings. and you were the puppet master for this show. you called all of the shots and there was nothing that I, as a simple puppet, could do. you were hypnotic, mesmerizing me as I followed your every instruction as you moved your hands about. that's all that it took; a simple hand movement. I couldn't stop myself, I really couldn't help it. I had no choice but to fall into your every word and trust that every action you performed was for me. my heart. my soul. my well being. however, you were truly only putting on a show. it was for audiences' entertainment. it was never for me, or even remotely about me. you then retired from your position as a puppet master and moved on. as you have left me sitting on this shelf, I am tortured by her presence in your life. yet I am but a puppet, your puppet, and I cannot seem to break this spell. if only I were like Pinocchio. maybe if I were a real girl, you'd love me too. -hvj
I'm begging you to stop. Stop choking me until my vision begins to blur and my lungs are aching only to let go, let me gasp in one big breath, and then continue to choke me again. Stop offering to light my cigarette only so you can get close enough to burn yours against the frail skin on my chest. Stop pulling the knife out of my heart apologizing and saying it slipped while you cover the wounds only to shove it in even further seconds later and ******* please stop telling me you love me only to laugh at me a few days later and say you never meant it because my body can only sustain itself for so long in this constant state of confusion and yearning for acceptance because eventually my soul will crumble to pieces smaller than your eyes could see or hands could heal and my mind will finally get wrapped up in the idea of loving you for so long it can never find its way back to normal regardless of how many times you grab my shoulders and shake me screaming that you hate me and who could ever love someone as messed up as me how could I have ever been so delusional to believe you and ending it with that evil laugh but my mind will still be so wrapped up in loving you that I won't hear any of it and my skin will be so numb from your gentle touch just yesterday that I would even feel you slapping me and just please stop doing this to me. Stop torturing me. And now as I'm screaming this at the top of my lungs with tears running down my face I realize the entire time you've been choking me and burning me with cigarettes you've been thousands of miles away, never once making contact with my skin. C.a.l
the tie dye sky could hold thousands of us. people like us, wishing only to create something more beautiful than ourselves and what we are. we only want to breathe in the universe and take our interpretation of it as an art form. we are artists and we deserved to be loved. loved like the deserts and the oceans and the mountains and everything in between. we deserve to be loved like the people love the California sunshine. you can be my California. you can be my hopes and dreams. I only ask that you don't go ripping at the seams. I don't believe in true love but I believe in soulmates and as far as I'm concerned, you're mine. so play your music and let's travel into the deepest crevices of our minds as we attempt to figure each other out, only mildly surprised when we find that we cannot. after all, what's the point in understanding something as beautiful as each other? -hvj
In the depths of my mind, I'm stuck somewhere between being a major part of the universe and have several galaxies inside of me, and being such a small part of the universe that I do not matter at all. I'm constantly making the journey back and forth, from new ideas to old ones, never really settling on one. Not on any of them, really. And it is here that I find myself most often making a journey from one thought about you to the next, wishing I could spend more time there. Oh how I long for and would love so very much to stay there longer. You've begun to get caught up in my thoughts and ideas, ranging from the stars to the moon and the center of the earth, all the way back out to the ends of the Milky Way galaxy. It is within these travels that I start to wonder if you're really even worth thinking about. If you won't give me the time of day, I should not be spending hours cradled in the presence of those eyes that look like oceans or the sound of your thick accent as it rolls off your tongue ever so gracefully. I should not be thinking of how the stars seemed to be twinkling in your eyes as you looked at me. Or how your teeth glistened like the ever so shiny pearls fancy women wear around their necks on every occasion. I should be thinking of how the sun shine feels in the summer time or how beautiful the sky looks. Instead I'm just stuck here; thinking of you and all your beauty. -hvj
what I consider to be my best work to date
— The End —