The first time I knew about love, no one told me that it would be painful. The first time I had a feeling for someone, I kept it all in my heart, thinking that he will get the message. Instead, it is all locked up in the tiny little space.

But no one told me that someone is holding the key to my heart.

No one told me that someone could unlock it, releasing all my feelings kept inside and replace it with his own.

The first time a guy ever unlocked my heart, it took time. It first starts out with a mere seed thrown inside my heart but everyday he would shower it with love until it turns into a flower - a prove of the blooming of our love.

But no one told me the flower could die.

The first time the flower starts to wilt, I tried so hard to gain some love from him. But in the end it keeps on wilting and wilting, until it is hard to even save it. When hatred start to fill up my unlocked heart, it was too heavy, my tears fell. Until one day, he came, locked my heart and never come again. The hatred starts to grow and grow until my heart cracked.

No one told me that the person who holds a part of me could easily throw you away.

But now that he had come back, trying to unlock my heart again, will I let him? Can a flower grow back? Would I even let him come near me, embrace my heart and unlocks it again?

*No one told me, that love is a cruel thing.

soaking in the warm
           water, her large body
              covered in soap

and bubbles.
           she sipped a glass of champagne
              her toenails sat

sticking out
            like bright pink
                                                   icebergs.

her eyes closed
            and relaxed, she knew the children
               would not be home.

her husband was where he said
             he wasn’t and she knew
                    they were broken.

but she was calm.
                 like a desert
                                                     breeze.

she looked into her eyelids
            and saw work
                 waiting on Monday,

her son struggling with order
             of operations, her daughter
        knowing men better than her.


sinking in slowly,
               her chest warmed like a
       leather car seat in August

kissing the water it
            submerged her plump
                                                        fac­e

she gasped and sat up,
      rubbed the soap from her
                                                        eyes
­
and saw a
           ladder,
                  a golden ladder against

the back of the tub,
looking about the
   bathroom and saw nothing

but the ladder,
     which climbed up and into
       the ceiling

which was now a sky!
         a gleaming sky
           with sparse white clouds,

oh, what a scene!
                putting her hand out she
                  grasped the bottom rung,

her wet body half in water,
                      half out. She pulled hard
  on that rung, but barely moved

again, she thought about Monday,
           and the weight she couldn’t
                                                        ­    carry.

a day she would see her boss,
       her husband,
                                                        ­  herself.

she finished the champagne.

she let her fat body
                          
                         fall
                         into
                          the
                        water.

“Nearer my God to thee...,”
she sang into her wet eyelids
hoping angels can swim.


©David Moloney

I miss you more than anything
I miss you like M for
M e m o r i e s
like the time we painted the walls of my room lavender and
danced to music that reminded us of
love.
I miss you like I for
I n t e n s e
like how my love for you was so profound
my heart leapt when you sang and
it shattered when you cried.
like how I always wanted you closer
hugging tighter
kissing deeper
my arm wrapped around the back of your neck so I never had
to let you go.
I miss you like S for
S c a r e d
like how I was terrified to watch you walk down the hall
after we ended things the first time.
like how I'm scared of my feelings
scared of wanting you back.
I miss you like S for
S c a r s
Like the identical scars we both have on
our hearts
that remind of how things used to be
and how different they are from now.
like the scars that we healed from that time
when we both bled out
slicing ourselves deep to feel the pain
rush out of our bodies like an exhale.
I miss you like
c o m e
b a c k
t o
m e
"I'm sorry," you say " but I just can't do that."

now he says "I miss you more than anything"
he misses me like   M   for
Makeout
like the way he awkwardly mistakes the sloppiness for passion.
he misses me like   I   for
I like you
like in the way that he feels it
stronger than I ever will.
he misses me like   S   for
Saturdays
because to him, the days without me
go by so slowly.
he misses me like   S   for
songs
like the songs that remind him of me
taking his heart at fifteen
loving everything about me
I'm sorry, but I just don't feel that way.

I don't want to fall for you just yet

I don't know if I'm ready to put all my trust into someone
someone new.

I don't know if I'm ready to open up my heart and soul to someone
someone new.

I don't know if I'm ready to deal with another heartbreak because of someone

Someone new that likes me
-te