i listen to her rant about her boyfriend,
about how he never calls, about how
        this isn’t ***** dancing, my name isn’t baby.
i nod when i’m supposed to and agree
when it seems necessary.
       how are you and that guy doing, anyways?
i tell her that we’ve been doing fine
and that he never buys me flowers.
        what a shame, pretty girls deserve flowers.
i think about it later that night,
about how i never get flowers.
        you’re pretty enough, really.
i can hear his voice inside my head.
i close my eyes and i can see him.
        why don’t you believe me?
i want to tell him that pretty girls
deserve flowers, and he has yet to deliver.

you painted a beautiful sunset,
full of color and life,
and said it represented me.

you said i was art.

three months later,
you poured black over the canvas



(cjw)

1st month:
                  you laughed at all my jokes and kissed me gently. you seemed        to live for every word i said and gave me all of your attention.

6th month:
                   you held me like i thought only you could. you started to kiss me harder and tell me stories of your past, and you would laugh at them and i wouldnt discover why they were so funny to you. i gave you all of my attention.

1st year:
               i recycled the same jokes and you pretended not to notice and would chuckle. you hands traveled up my shirt and i pretended not to notice as you would unzip my jeans and wink. it was a big game to you and i gave you all of me.

1 year 6 months:
             you cheated on me and i still let you play me like the sudoku games you loved so much. i stayed with you because i was so dependent and i pretended not to notice that when you kissed me it didnt mean anything anymore, and i gave you all that was left of the shell of me.

2nd year:
              i broke up with you because she gave you more than i could. you told her all your stories and she understood why it was funny. she used my jokes and you laughed. i had given you all of me and didnt have anything left more myself.

Will you come over and hold me?
          You asked me
          On a Saturday evening,
It’s cold and I need your warmth…

I don't know what I'm supposed to say,
          I trembled,
I guess I’ve lost my sense of direction,
          I mumbled as I looked down.

Please? Just one more night?
I promise it’ll be the time of your time,
          You beg, yet seem to not get the point
          That not everything will come to you so easily.

I’m sorry,
But you’ve got me all wrong.
I don’t want to feel anymore.
I just want to escape from this storm.