I brought him to his feet
And he brought me to my knees.

The wolves did not leave me
Where it was they found me.
Rather,
They stayed on my heels
And tore away my flesh
Before I even knew that teeth were in my skin.

The other day I was called a *****
For loving the same man I have
For quite some time.

People are rather stupid
When you get down to it
And sometimes I feel as though
We are the island of sanity
Cast away
In a vast ocean of insanity.

Of course,
That last part
Could go both ways.
I am but a human
And your choices
Will seldom mirror mine.

It's always been easy
To see your spark
That causes the glowing embers
Inside of me
But it was always a temporary thing before,
A lovely thing I would tend to cling to
Even when the world conspired against me.
I am alive tonight,
With wires flickering in my being
And your absence in this bed tonight
Strong.
I was never one to succumb to love
But I will succumb to you,
O wretched destroyer of my walls.
Because of you
I have stepped from my comfort zone
Into uncertainty,
Into obscurity.
How vain it is
That I say we are the cult film
Amid others so dry and lame.
Classic rock music
Teaches girls like me
To stay away from men like you
But today I am proud of my
Stubbornness.

We walked home from church
At one in the morning,
Basking in the glory
That was love and
Being in love.

It's my duty to finish
This book of love poetry
But it's so hard
To do that when all I think of
Is the contempt I breath
With every drag of life's cigarette.

People **** me off
And I'm scared of talking on the phone.
I could once run miles
But now I'm dying in the mines.
Ambition was my strong suit,
My scars were my weapons
But I let love in
And changed for the better.

What are you supposed to do
When you're good at writing about desecration
And you're suddenly placed in front of
A communion wafer?
What happens when
You're so distraught
You're reading the Alcoholics Anonymous Big Book
Just to feel closer to God?

What is there to say
When you've gone off the deep end
So quietly that those who love you
Have got no ******* clue
That it ever really happened?

Sometimes I wonder if you like me or if-
You just like the idea. The concept.
Seeing me is like seeing yourself, looking in a mirror.
How do I know that you love me, and not the concept.
You’re projecting.
It’s all conceptual.

If imperfect people create perfect love, then what are we?
If imperfections make you beautiful, did I become grotesque?

If the concept is more alluring than the truth, then is it a lie?
If the concept is better than me, then maybe I’ll never be your lover.