lips of wine
unopened chaos
rests smoothly in your smile
forget not to oppress yourself on me
for i dare not sleep without it
a shattered confidence
weakened by your glory
put beneath the flowers
rotting at your feet
yet i lay here, still
quietly with my sorrow
for one look bathed in light
holds me to the floor
absent from clouded eyes
i see your inner garden
once there blossomed flowers
but now they are choked by thorns
tall grass trampled down
by all that you have traveled
and a once tall tree stands alone
bare and dying too
and the grayness in your somber stare
puts its eye on me

I yearn for sunlight on my skin
And gentle breezes tainted
With the salt that
Splashes onto the
Sandy shore to greet the
Fragile toes of children
That gaze at the horizon
And wonder how far it goes.
I need a sea that
Will rock me carefully
Within the soft cradle
Of its light blues and
Always remember that I need
To come up for air.
Baby, these waves are
Becoming too much.
They have forgotten  
Who I am.
They pull me away from
The sun
And rejoice when I cry
Only knowing that
In that moment
We are one in the same,
As salt from my eyes
finds its place within
The navy violence.
A sea of tears
The embodiment of all
My fears and sorrow and hurt,
now lost.
Unidentifiable and inseparable.
These waters are becoming so
Foreign to me.
grasping my body
as they consume me
and forget that
I am fragile and helpless
Against their power.
I need the security of
Sand beneath my
Feet.
I need to learn to walk
On my own again.
I love the ocean
But darling
I am becoming sea sick

Your ever presence sends a wave of revulsion
through my mutilated body.
Your voice has become the infuriating car alarm
that seems to strategically go off
at 2am.
Your arrogance instigates the razors
hidden under my mattress.

But I love you.

You cannot fathom the amount that I love you.
Because you tolerate me,
and my ever-changing outlook.
You understand that pain allows me to express
the words I will never say.

But I hate you.
And I sit here,
involuntarily,
with a maddening blank stare,
itching to scream,
"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a ****."
And I'll run through the fog for the rest of my life,
if it means being rid of you.
I hate you.


Don't leave me.