My Text

"You seem uninterested in the context of my messages, so I don't feel like anything will be resolved. But I never expected that from you anyways, I'm just wasting my breath. So I'll say what you want to hear: yeah, we're good. I'm good."

My Mind:

The words that I share with you have no meaning when you close your mind and heart off from me. I feel like I am speaking to a ******* wall. I say one thing and your response is completely unrelated. Maybe if I expect nothing I will hurt less. My tears fall in absence of your affection and care. My feelings and thoughts are neglected. Instead of being a living, breathing body with feelings, thoughts, and dreams I should just become numb; a blank sheet of paper that will only have words written on it that you want to hear.

How can someone remember how soft the sheets were when they made love?

He is so intoxicating that I can barely recall how we went from the bed to the floor in a matter of seconds.

I wish he would see me for who I am.

I am a hurricane.
I am a tornado.
I am a thunderstorm.
I am a wildfire.
I am an earthquake.
I am a blizzard.
I am a hailstorm.
I am a tsunami.
I am a cyclone.
I am an avalanche.

I am a natural disaster.

I look at you and see your soul that lies within.
You have not an object for a soul, but entire seasons.

If an array of objects were compared to the wondrous depths of your soul, they would be put to shame.

I can paint Spring, to show your liveliness.
You are so alive, waking with a new song playing in your head.

I can paint Summer, to show your spirit.
You are adventurous, diving into new waters.

I can paint Autumn, for the love you ignite.
Fire lit to keep warm and celebrate.
Your love is a warm blanket like that of a fire; you feel like home.

I can paint Winter, for the bravery you possess.
Snow coating the ground preserves what lies underneath.

You are not one, but all of the seasons.