i guess i thought that i could learn how to drink away this lump in my throat

movies always taught me that when i turned 18, i would start shedding my skin and breaking down my walls but i didn't have any walls to tear down.
so i tried my hardest at age 18 to build them up, with the only things i had - boxes of matches
left over from burning down so many bridges

all because of some pieces of twisted metal,
i had to reteach myself how to drive.
and now i'm always 5 under the speed limit
i stop at every stop sign
no matter how angry i get

no one ever told me whether or not boxes of matches float
or why my neighborhood always looked so dark
and made me curl up like a dead spider

so now i stick my head in the freezer,
so i can get used to the feeling of my thoughts being so cold

now i kiss people just so we don't have to talk.

Your my universe. I hope you know,
Your the earth beneath my feet
Supporting my every need
Your the sun high above
Refreshing me every morning
With your warmful glow
Your the moon above my head
Illuminating the way
Your the stars shooting across the sky
Attempting to reach me to make
My dream come to fruition.....

Cold fingertips, cold glass.
Odd how the daily routine transformed
from normal to haunting
in seconds flat.

In an instant her face filled with stress,
eyes a window to things falling apart.
Slow movements made it seem
as if time had stopped.
Such a blank look on her face
made the heartbreak evident,
The drop of her fragile heart
could be felt with one glance.

Through the halls she moved
distressed;
tears clearly blocking her vision.
Pacing back and forth only caused
the small room to close in tighter.
An illusion.
Voices; a jumbled mess actually,
turned to white noise
rising louder and louder.
Still the ticking of the clock
stood out as immensely as her pain.

Such a sorrowful sound her crying was,
as it had appeared that she was
no longer breathing.

How could it be true?
An instant,
unbearable heaviness descended.
Her knees giving out,
the flowing of tears continuing
soundlessly as she sank
to the ground.

*21 is not supposed to be a year to die,
it is supposed to be the year to live.

I seek solace in the accompaniment
of the lonely three legged bar stool.
I sit, lean and rest myself upon it
And rely on it, like I never could with you.

I speak with the barkeep,
his words comforting and kind
he leaves to serve others yet returns
he returns like you never did.

I drink spirit after spirit,
as it eases the pain
and keeps me warm
something you can no longer do.

You know, I almost called the other night.
Almost.
I’d like to think that
you would’ve almost picked up,
and I would’ve almost said something.
It’s a good thing I’ve almost lost your number;
I could get lonely someday
and forget that you almost wanted to stay.
I forget a lot nowadays.
I almost called the other night, you know.
But I’ve learned that “almost”
only counts in “I love you’s”
and “goodbye’s”.
Maybe I’ll almost sleep tonight.
It’s strange that I keep dreaming
about the night we walked around the city.
I always end up on the park bench
by your house,
waiting.
I’ve almost stopped wishing you’d show up.

Before I begin, allow me to explain,
I too loved.. once,
so think of me not as some cynic-
nor as a master in the ways of love-
but rather as a keen observer-
now, that may mean I have nothing to offer you-
no insider knowledge-
no secrets of love-

But I do  know how to tell a true love story -

Interested?
Fantastic-
So let’s begin,

True love, if there is such a thing at all,
is like the thread that makes the cloth
you can’t tease it out-
you can’t extract meaning-
without ending up deeper in the web-
and it always remains-
hidden under layers -

In the end, that’s all you can really say about any
True love story-
They don’t generalize-
They don’t analyze-
They arent found-
They just… happen.

and that’s what makes them “true.”

But what is this coveted “love” -
the emotion?-
the act?-
the mentality?-

Love, is a constant state of illusionment-

A collective agreement amongst humans-
that it, whatever it may be,  can be treated as an excuse
for recklessness, irrationality, and misplaced strife-  

A quid pro quo  between two individuals-
to agree that they are doing something-
anything-
other than mindlessly drudging through life-

Now that is not to say that what love creates is pointless-
I said before, I have felt the embrace of love
Love festers between individuals for so long
it has no option-
but to mould the physical to itself-
and alter our personalities-

Characterized by spontaneity-
by indulgence-
by risk-
to love is the most dangerous experience in existence-
the act of being fully vulnerable with another-
while promising not to hurt them the same-

Love is characterized by vulnerability-
and the constant fear of being hurt-

So you want to know how to write a true love story?
be honest-
dwell not on the “romantic” blindfolds that keep us irrationally seeking our partners-
dwell not on the on the memories of a love that blossomed-
reveal the core of love -

A true love story comes from gut instinct-
A true love story, comes from experience.
A true love story, if truly told, makes the stomach believe

So I said I loved once,
allow me to elaborate-

I too have felt the “butterfly stomach”
- where the insides of the lovestruck turn on their host and manifests the emotional significance of meeting “the one”

I too have spent the day daydreaming...
-Lost in the thought of “the one”, seeking brief breaks from reality in my mind between moments of  utter normalcy

I too have melted into a puddle of emotion….
-lying next to “the one” as we slowly spill more and more of the secrets that bound us as individuals, joining a spirit much larger than ourselves-

I too have felt... invincible-
-to know that I’ve found something more significant than myself. Something that replaces the fear of the future.. and makes it something to look forward to.

Yes, I too have fallen in love.
and I did just that-
I fell.





..And that is my true love story-

nights like these when
I want to drown my sorrows
in copious amounts
of *****
but I also want to drown myself
in copious amounts
of you.

S.W.

She takes a half a century
To ready up to go;
He stamps his feet and grumbles...
Then stifles, 'cause he knows
She's faithful...
Faithfully she loves;
Faithfully she's true;
It's a better life to love
A girl who's always slow...
Contentment comes
To those who know...
Faithfulness.
===================
Always she is ready,
Looking mighty fine...
With her, life is heady
Roses, ***, and wine,
But still he's feeling low...
With him or not, her heart's not true,
And every man is game.
Always empty, wanting more,
She paws the door and wears the floor...
Faithlessness.
--------------------------------------
He­ hangs his head these lonely days
She's gone to greener grass,
Because his penchant kept his eyes
On making one more pass,
"A little candy before lunch,"
He liked to joke around,
No woman ever felt it safe,
To let her guarding down.
Meanwhile his wife waits up at home,
While he is working late.
So sadly married to a man who roams
Breaking vows and tempting fate.
=========================
He's tired and he's growing old
A little stooped and bent,
His hair's receding now, and gray,
His working days are almost spent,
And yet she knows he's done his best...
He's fought his battles, nearly lost a few,
But found his love held faithful, true,
And so she holds his hand and stays
Faithful to her man and loves him, too.
The comfort these two know in later days,
The quiet peace of coming home to stay,
Are interest and dividends,
The priceless benefits she pays...
Faithfulness.