You are a whirlwind, fierce and stunning, forever lasting,
you are a beast, at best, you left me gasping, open wound thrashing.

Cupped hands drop into this dripping well,
raised stakes trip into my soul, but I’ll never tell.

Piece by boring piece I release the deeds that are gone undone,
I’ll lift every rock, every tree and mountain that’s under the sun.

I’m a miracle that just missed my goodbye kiss,
you’re a bullet point shy of making the list.

A villain is victorious and it leaves our hero's doubting,
you beg me to listen to your whisper as I stand here shouting.

Shadows do their best to stipulate my surroundings,
it’s almost surreal finding myself inside of your self doubting.

With a little bit of luck and heavenly sorting I forgive freely,
resentment rising reminds me that you should choke on your apology.

Satisfaction lacks life as my progression halts, there’s no saving,
an error begins when we end, nothing left to mend is what we’re paving.

I held my breath, counted to ten, and suffocated with ways of how we could start again,
Retreat. Let go. Back pedal. Reset. It’s not the end if we just begin?

I submit to the future, unyielding with its plans and schemes,
pick apart my past, I assure you, not everything is as easy as it seems.

Like a grocery store receipt left out in the sun, your smile fades,
there’s a form of comfort here, flowers placed on an unmarked grave.

We’re comfortable here, two strangers acknowledged with the nod of a head,
I agree, it’s probably for the best if we carry on, things better left unsaid.

A smile, a force - carving hope from this cloud of sadness,
there’s a miracle in the making that meddles in the madness.

You’re the good, the wrong and the heaven sent,
we’re the pieced together apology, lingering like a subtle scent.

Pinpointing tragedy from the point where words leak,
wealth to measure, blood shot eyes and happiness we seek.

We’re uncomfortable now, two life stories merging, our hands clasped so tight,
there’s comfort in the not knowing and not seeing through the veil of night.

A bombshell, a tremor it’s our indecision that makes quakes,
tactical division, invisible revision, there’s no longer a connection that we can fake.

Crumpled can, recycled and worth a tenth of your time,
gather enough energy, digging deeper into this sorrow to make you mine.

I’m crashed in the corner, under a canopy made of blankets,
I feel safe again, a reminder of my childhood filled with chicken nugget banquets.

I’m uncomfortable being comfortable, I tell you again and again through labored breath,
we could be stuck settling, secretly hating one another, a fate far worse than death.

There is a concave concept that involves situations that require diffusing,
A stutter step towards intimacy, you have me wired in ways that don’t add up.

A head tilt, an act of depression that leaves little to the imagination,
There’s glitter infused between the folds in a place where space and time lean on enemies,
a virtual reality that virtue alone cannot sustain.

Maintain - Contain self hate, recollection and hate speech are all that remain.

One ******, sharpened left over fear is all that stands between us - a simple cut above the rest.

The sun, substantiates the moon, polar, fiery opposites - but each needed for the other,
a whisper travels, barely breathing until it reaches mundane lips .

Care for me, like I’m your most prized possession, your words prune and polish.

stitches tear reminders of open wounds and healing comes with closed doors,
a plaintive figure, obtuse-like in listing reasons why his war has failed.

Push me. Challenge me. Betray my trust like you did before.
Remind me always of what’s behind me, like I need you anymore.

There’s a hamper full of memories that linger on the clothes and on the floor,
A secret handshake is how it began. It was a secret I’d take to the grave.

No structure. No nonsense. As you beat the rhythm of us into my head.

I need space. Time. Closure. Release.
I gave you comfort. care. redemption. peace.

I promise I’ll try harder next time to not try so hard.
but if you’re to be trusted, I never keep my promises.

Our lives are what matters, situated against scattered stories and pending plots.
I’d take fear of the unknown every day of every hour when defenses drop.

We spoke briefly of quiet things, a midnight kiss that could never exist in the sun or a pacing parade that trampled through the tunnels of our town.

Things are different now, and it’s most likely our fault - just not by choice.
There’s a part of me that chastises myself when I hear your voice.

I’m a method of apology, you - you’re my saving grace.
I choke on the words that aren’t said, not knowing, if said, they’ll find their intended place.

I’ve tried to trade my transgressions for time alone,
and all that I’ve found out is that my fears exists, right there, below.

I gave all of me to yours, in the end, it’s hard to wonder what else is more?

Help me handle hope better.

Even then in my final hour, my mind wandered there, to her.

A static memory, barely formed that did its best to bend and break.
Stacked against me, whispers and weeping, it was my own life I feared I’d take.

A silent cancer soothes my soul, it mumbles “the end is near,”
Yet love comprehends and overflows - making it hard to hear.

Just one more day, another mile, make the new become old,
everything that matters has vanished, it’s this new life that’s gone unsold.

One door closes, and another opens - a chance at something more?
I check the handle, reside to my fate, what is this lock for?

There’s a reason that they don’t intertwine,
head and heart, forever war, combustion and collide.

Stalemate, ever deserving,  declares a winner,
decided by the apathy from the hands of a sinner.

To each their own until it affects what we think should be ours,
a cloud of doubt that hangs low enough beneath the storms final hours.

Sleeping sickness surrenders all that’s good and leaving nothing to begin,
I’m in too deep, gone too far, the end is too close for me to start again.

Words caressed, increasing the impression of what’s printed on my heart,
A level of compassion only exists in the form of scandalous figures and charts.

My life’s purpose seems to accommodate comedy,
sips here and gallons there, picking its poison to make itself somebody.

There are days that happen where I’d love to live in my blankets,
and others still where I can’t believe the opportunities I’ve missed.

Feed me knowledge, carefully place me there at the learning edge,
Little victories demonstrating anguish against such large defeats,
back against the wall, I do all that I can to honor my pledge,
a humbled and broken vestige of former self I’d rather not meet.

Concrete plans laid bare, gardens growing, hiding something that was never there,
this life has a tendency to always be unfair.

Life leaves its mark with fiery ways and unexpected turns,
I picture death so calming, silence, the ending yearns.

Love casts its miracle as lust rots and turns to rust,
there’s a disappearance in the shadows that’s increasingly difficult to trust.

I trade values for experience, hands tied, the gift of life to Death’s vendor,
incredible beauty, in darkness as I marvel at the splendor.

sinister mister locked away in this rattled cage,
there’s a list of mistakes and retributions that insists in this rage.

There’s a time for memories and pain is temporary, they say -
I cry out. Beg. Loathe everything that goes unanswered as I pray.

There isn’t much left of gratitude, silence and ignorance is an attitude,
disaster in my descent, by choice alone in my solitude.

Pulsing, pushing, panting as you prove me wrong,
regrets forever raging I never pictured this, my final song.

Paper thin conscious, padded room that’s full of options,
a life lacking flavor, you my savior as adaptation.

Gather friends, and twist our tales about the end,
a gallery of guilt painting pictures of intentions not meant to offend.

There’s passion there when we pile on pretend,
shatters like glass stone shores when we can no longer comprehend.

Idle hands do nothing more than hold applause hostage,
it’s just the mirror doing its job by making monsters.

Be smart - aspire, tread lightly when your regrets beck and call,
I’ll be the first to admit that sometimes....there’s no glory before the fall.

You can risk and rack your life to rot,
it’s more a matter of what you’ve lost than what you’ve forgot.

Empty love is what makes matters worse,
a charming smile, flippant demeanor are considered a curse.

I light the lures and reminisce in hopes of remembering the pure,

My discretion is the only thing that signifies my perception.

I’ve witnessed my fair share of waste, memories triggered by that terrible taste.

It was a miracle that moved me, once.

It’s unfair to you. I know this now. It was unfair to you to hope that you made my life matter.

You filed a grievance, there in my leave of absence.

and just like the seconds hand, the horror story played on and on repeat.
It’s never too late, until it is, to retreat, wounds to treat, and admitting defeat.

I picked my poison in you - an earful of harm with a heart that’s armed.
Teach me ways to blindly see, twist and turn the way it used to be,

Rise,army, rise. Trample through truth and extinguish lies.

I loved you in front of a thousand burning suns,
even after repetition and falsehoods burn away, we are the ones.