was i just imagining it when you said you liked me?
and that you had no intentions of going anywhere.
did i make all of that up in my head?
i'm beggining to feel as though i did.

you said you were in it for the long haul
then,
two weeks later,
you crumble.

telling me that i can't be friends with my best friend...
if i want this to work,
and that wasn't about to happen.

so it ended just like that,
nothing more nothing less,
just a bad case of jealousy,
nothing more nothing less.

I keep your name buried in my vocal chords.
Afraid that with one soft vibration
All my confessions will come spilling out.

Your eyes close like a sunset.

I built a moat inside of my rib cage
So when you say that you will love me come hell or high water,
I pray that you are serious.

You sprawl across the floor spreading your limbs as far as possible
Simply to make yourself feel important.

If I had a nickel for every time that I thought of you, I would be five cents richer.
For you are nothing but a single, continuous thought
that weaves its way throughout my hours.

I leave Scrabble pieces everywhere I go
Spelling out my confusion with a handful of consonants.

Stripping off clothing and anticipation,
We go streaking through the city streets.

I take off my shoes and feel the gravel dig into my heels

You glance down and my ******* peak your interest.

A girl with priorities, I take a vow of silence.
Inhale. Exhale.
Gasping. Breathing.

I choke on our misunderstandings

I swallow your name.

He walks across the great expanse as if a ghost.
He walks alone and out of place as two by two
the joggers pass and barely glance as if its normal

to behold a ghost.  What they don’t see defines
his life, the tortured demon voice inside his head
that taunts and teases all day long and
tells him he “ain’t spit” and “ugly is forever”.

He’d been neglected all his life but now that he’s
become a man he thought the love he sought
would save him from the way it was when he
was young. His problem now is wrapped around
his backward thought that love is his to find and take
instead of his to give and share, if only he had
learned this in his childhood.

He slowly mounts the rail between the ocher beams
on Golden Gate and looks at murky water far below.
His clothes are black, his hair is long and black,
his skin as white as snow. He stands ***** while
looking back to see if one might lend a hand but
no one does.  He smiles a smile and turns around and
then as if he’s been cut down he leans, unbending,
and falls.

            A hundred miles away a mother knows her child
is dead.  She bows her head in shame and cries,
the why at war with guilt. A part of her is gone,
a part she can’t deny or blame as someone else's fault
instead she hates herself for never having loved the boy,
but even more she hates the hurt.  If only she had
fought the urge to drink, if only she had loved him half
as much as that crazy **** she used to smoke, the ****
she called her ‘crystal blue persuasion’. If only she
could turn the hands of time and rearrange the things
that mattered most.

A flare is dropped to mark the spot where he went in,
the flaming red a beacon on a bay of mother’s tears.
Another soul engulfed in grief is gone, the deed is done.
A crowd is gathered at the rail to point and stare
as boats approach the flare where men with hooks
will pull him out while mother drinks 100 miles away.

I don’t intend to die
before my time
but often
feel the sting
of dead intentions

A Beast of a man in appearance and soul,

A silhouette of her memories chilling him cold,

Sitting alone with his thoughts hating time,

Screaming inside trying to shatter his mind,

Immune to pain from his love of Roses,

The beautiful thorns struck vivd poses,

His love was a curse, She laid it herself,

A disease, a sickness, It shattered his health,

It occured at first sight of this beauty, This Belle,

Time had been spent she was treating him well,

His eyes wet with tears, His cold heart growing warm,

Foreshadowing revealed the oncoming storm,

She had to go away with a promise of return,

He gave her a ring and his voice had been stern,

He brushed her cheek gently and said very clear

"Remember my love, Im always right here"

After being home and revisitng her life,

She decided to stay, an unsuspected knife,

With the last of his soul he picked a final rose,

In the dark of his castle where the sun never rose,

Be it magic or hope the rose never dies,

Never to be witnessed by another Belles eyes,

He locked it away, Hidden without fail,

You say youve heard this? An old Fairytale?

I guess it is close. Similar at least,

Look closely my friend.. I am the Beast.