Walking, I was consumed in my own trivial daily thoughts,

And I stopped, for the door in my path was closed.

Before I could figure out why,

It opened.

A woman stood there in the doorway,

Staring me down with hollow, vacant eyes.

She scowled at me,

I tried to maintain no expression at all.

And meanwhile, my thoughts were washed away.

But slowly, one thought was clear.

I will never allow myself to be,

Like that woman, or rather,

The lack of a woman,

On the other side of the doorway.

Structure.

Stability.

Rigidity.

Critical view.

Thoroughness.

Totality.

Honesty.

My remedy,

My penance,

My salvation,

Rests on your smile.

I’m belly-side up,

Vulnerable.

Naked, without guard.

And I hand you the blade,

To carve out my heart.

I can feel the blood,

The surge of warm,

Involuntary blood,

Rush to my head,

Dizzy my thoughts,

Redden my cheeks.

Oh, what you do to me.

Complete,

And utter chaos.

Complete.

And utter, “Chaos.”

You speak with discretion.

I attempt a reply,

Struck by apprehension.

Sitting in anticipation,

Awaiting the revelation,

Of your outright lie.

When this city burns to the ground,

I’ll be there, holding your hand,

As it all slowly turns to ash,

And the memories float to the stars.

Leaning my head on your shoulder,

Looking up at your eyes,

I’ll see the blaze flickering in them,

And I will smile softly,

And you will smile down at me,

And we will gaze proudly upon our accomplishment.

I am a Woman of Words,

But with you as the subject matter,

No amount of poetry or prose

Could ever suffice.

In the absence of temperance,

I indulge in you.

Submerging myself into the depths of your being,

With an insatiable thirst for your flesh.

Drinking your essence with my lips,

Becoming intoxicated,

Dominated by the power of your skin.

A servant to your body.

I worship you.

In the absence of temperance.

On the factory line,

I am a product of society.

Manufactured by design,

Structured by a nation of notoriety.

This wound

I keep tonguing,

To keep from healing,

Refuses to fade

Because of my endless efforts.

But why would I do such a thing?

Mother Media,

Has strapped us to her highchair of lies,

And spoonfed us,

What she believes is best,

Despite our protestant cries.

This is my poem,

My collection of strung together words,

Add a hidden meaning,

A metaphor or two,

But altogether it doesn’t matter,

The interpretation isn’t up to you.

Scarcity of phrase,

Once regarded in adoration,

Takes another phase,

Undergoing a transformation.

And hence,

Negligence.

My feet almost quiver as they hit the pavement,

Terrified to take another step.

Petrified to move forward.

For it forces my mind to realize what comes next,

What is in front of me,

What came before that step.

Can’t I just stand still?

Make time stop,

Tangle myself in a freeze frame,

And wait for you to arrive to resume?

Soft, blush skin,

Aches to sink into their rightful place,

Press into their fleshy counterpart,

Yearns to push their sweet companion,

Longs to touch, to taste,

Form into the contours of a mirrored feature.

And nervously dances slurred words about,

Just behind their surface,

To tell you to kiss them ever so gently.

With a potent kiss,

Delve into the depths of my jaded heart and lose yourself in me,

Burrow and latch yourself inside.

Synchronize with the remains of my mortal being.

Surge through a mess of broken veins and arteries,

Interfere with the synapses in my brain and dizzy my fragmented mind.

Send me dancing through a euphoria of vertigo.

Become a part of me, with a potent kiss.

Remnants of a cataclysm,

Drift over my feet.

I stand paralyzed,

Gazing upon the ruins.

Slow thoughts,

Followed by slow emotions,

Settle down.

I shift my position.

Helplessly breathing,

With nothing left to grasp.

The blacktop stings the palms of my hands and burns my fingertips.

My legs feel the crunch of gravel beneath them.

I spit blood. Warm and metallic.

Somehow I manage to rise to my feet.

My knees are in shock. They quake profusely.

I stare at you, astounded. The sun lights your face.

A warm smile appears there.

A sharp blow to the stomach.

Back down.

Pain shoots up my spine.

My head throbs. With each beat, I hear your name.

Again, I crawl from my knees to my feet.

Desperation.

And again, you strike me down.

Repeat the process.

Repeat the process.

Repeat the process.

She faces the sun,

Turns her face straight to its beams,

Letting it wash over her disposition,

Bathing her in naivety,

And she shields her eyes,

With her rose-colored glasses.

Bury myself,

In a heaven,

Made of sheets, blankets, and pillows.

Cradle my weary body,

Aching muscles,

Tired mind.

Engulf and swallow my every inch of being,

Embrace my every inch of flesh.

Bury myself,

And all my thoughts.

And let my troubles and woes,

Melt into the seams and stitches,

Let my burdens and confusion,

Disappear amongst the threads.

Bury myself,

And sink into a world of dreams.

I lie awake,

Listening to the rain’s gentle lullaby,

But even nature’s song cannot soothe me,

Like the touch of your skin to mine.

The ladder,

The one I’m forced to climb.

A lack of friction, I seem to find,

As I take the rung into my fingers.

And the vertigo sensation lingers.

I know my lesson,

Why should I persist?

Brace my feet, step up, and

Slip.

The question:

Should I give up

And fall regardless?

Or continue

And say I tried this?

With this knowledge, then,

What good is

The latter?

As the sun sets upon the horizon,

Without poetic justice,

I do not prevail.

My mind troubled,

Obfuscated by the irony,

Of everyday situations.

Purity,

Tarnished.

Joy,

Vexed.

As the sun sets.

Transfixed by your gaze,

Enticed by your word,

Allured by a promise,

I yet to have heard.

You spoke.

My hands were shaking.

I couldn’t respond.

I couldn’t believe what you just said.

I ignored you.

For a little while,

I ignored you.

I thought it over.

I responded.

Half-heartedly.

Still ignoring the words you spoke.

You tried again.

I gave in a bit.

Maybe I made the wrong decision,

By letting you know you are my weakness.

Your words are like fine wine.

I drink them slowly,

Tasting each syllable and the way you say them,

Savoring each phrase from your lips to mine.

The sound of your voice calms my being.

And relaxes my chaotic mind.

I’ll never have my fill.

You speak so scarcely,

Aging that wine to perfection each time.

I’ll constantly be in a haze of bliss,

If you are around me,

Filling my glass with sips of pure sweetness.

You make my stomach churn.

And not in a good way.

When you pry me open with your yearning eyes,

Your yearning eyes that burn through my flesh,

That tear away violently at everything that is me,

And leave me a hollow shell of being,

Separate from all you believe me to be.

Left to feel the blame, and lifeless.

Guilt to wash over me

Like crashing black waves.

I wish not to possess your heart,

I shove it away.

I am not the girl you think I am.

I am not the girl you think I am.

Your love is endless,

And renders me senseless,

Leaving me breathless,

Destroys my defenses,

Expelling pretenses.

You leave me in a whirl of loving thoughts,

Left behind in a delightful loving daze,

Patiently awaiting your loving return,

For you to resume your loving ways.