tugging at me like a nagging child
one who won't listen when I say,
you need to let go
some say that it's my own demise
the worst kind of sabotage
but I still don't believe I deserve this
'this' - warm hands, and a beating heart
that beats... for me
I can't understand what that means
I've tried, and tried, and tried
falling up short each
As I stare at her,
trying to explain why I search
and I have no good
Your button nose and warm flesh.
Handprints left on white sheets,
(Coffee run? One for me and one for you...)
Morning breath seemingly bearable,
While I lay aching for another kiss,
Misplaced, my heart
I am a body, my face
My hands, But
This is not living
I tell her I need to leave
The small town streets,
And dead end family ties
Are suffocating me until...
I look at her wide eyed,
Images of California sunshine -
I could even care less about your ex,
What are the odds?
And what is the point?
She has dreams,
But mine are larger
I can barely make room.
Haven't written in awhile.
i didn't know how to tell you.
i felt you slipping away the moment
i took a sip of something fierce,
burning my insides like a poison
i could not tame,
a wildfire of false hope and future promises.
i tried to wrap you up in something comfortable,
something familiar so that this all could be
easier for the both of us.
because that's all i ever focused on:
y o u a n d m e as one entity.
the second i made my claim i knew
that this was going to be something that
neither of us would be able to handle.
i always become too sure of myself,
and you too loving.
i wanted to warn you ahead of time,
i am not easy.
i am not easy.
the divide between us will surely
end in a gaping hole,
a hole you try to pass gingerly
but fall into anyway.
a slip of the foot,
like a slip of the tongue
will always cost you more.
i think you're a beautiful person,
but if i wanted to choose a person by
their soul i don't know if you
would be my first choice.
i don't know if you bear the pain
the way that i bear mine.
fruitful and full,
overwhelming and screaming.
i look at her with the blonde *****
strands and bony shoulders,
slender fingertips that smear paint
and write obscenities,
she could sing me to sleep.
you always tried but your voice,
out of tune and trying,
never reached my dreams.
But not in the common sense of being.
You are warm and soft and real
With edges and curves, and
I can feel my fake smile and
The weight of pretending
Sliding slowly off my body
The transformation, the transition
You were telling me you loved me and I didn't know what you meant. Am I the only one who feels this way?
I didn't want that kind of weight. I wanted YOUR weight, the way you told me how you were built solid from age ten and on up, no one dared to mess with you. I tried to get close enough, at one point we were breathing the same recycled air and I thought, "****." It was still always the wrong timing, your family's dramatic sit-com life, an ex-lover left to berate you and your cute son tugging on your arm. There was no where for me to fit, whether I tried to squeeze close or not-it was really all for nothing.