I love how your pale skin sits slouched, formed against that cool dark chair.

That hat, oh... That hat.
There's something so boyish about the way that hat sits on your head.
It's cute, I should add.

The nonsense you ramble on about,
Well... Maybe it isn't nonsense. I'm usually too distracted by the corners of your lips to really understand your words.

So, I nod.
Mmhhmm...

You continue. You move. I watch.
I watch the way you walk; your hands in your pocket like they have something to say so you stuff them away.

I still try and listen.
Eh, nothing...

It seems I have a lot to say..
It seems there are a lot of things I want to do...
so many people I want to know..
but many more I'd rather not.

It seems I have passion,
It seems I have drive...
maybe even some dedication,
but how do you start going without any direction?

It seems I like to rhyme,
It seems I have got the time...
It seems to drag by...
or fly.

It seems I need more words,
It seems I need more emotions than just doleful.
Maybe I could be a bit more full of soul...
or love...
or joy...
or U...

She pushed,
she pulled,
she fell.

She wrestled with her thoughts as she lay there in a puddle of her misery;
the puddle was clear and smelled of dreams coated in doubt.


[To be continued]

She pushed,
she pulled,
she fell.

She wrestled with her thoughts as she lay there in a puddle of her misery;
the puddle was clear and smelled of dreams coated in doubt.


[To be continued]

A swift walk down the hall,
I catch a glimpse...
your shadow lingers behind me. I shiver a bit.
I know you know I sense your presence, but still,
in my bed you climb at night haunting my dreams.

I wake in the morning, I feel your cool breath on my cheek.
I grab the blankets tight.
release.
there's no point...
I can still feel you.
I know you're there, behind me,
watching me.

Walking down the street,
people stare...
I know they want to ask about you,
but, instead, they coward with fear. I don't blame them.
So, instead of spending my Saturday night with friends,
I fill this lonely chair with an even lonelier body and hope that you'll just disappear.

Wake up. Life. Repeat.
In the mirror over the sink,
I look and see you and me...
however, your you IS me...
I'm the monster they all see.

Syllables beating, like your heart,
bringing the poem to life.


the rythym of your words
guides my hands down your body
like the rythym of  a poem would guide my eyes down a page.

my eyes search your face for the plot,
the story...
the reason,
for this moment.

Your sentences twirling around my body,
wrapping themselves around my unspeakable's.

I gasp.
exhale.

you're inside me,
you're thoughts have temporarily invaded my once logical thinking.
we are. temporarily one.

I love a good poem.

Searching your face for some sort of subliminal message,
rolling your words around on my tongue just so I can get a taste of what it is you want to say.

either I have no palate for the words I taste,
or your words are meant to be bland...