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2.7k · Feb 2015
Miles Halter Feb 2015
Sometimes when we shatter, our broken pieces scar others.
918 · Aug 2015
If she only knew.
Miles Halter Aug 2015
If she only knew. Good lord if she only freaking knew.

She said that I was a major league player and she was just getting on the bench of recovery. She said she wouldn't catch up to the success that I am at but she doesn't know. How could she? She never listened when I spoke.

Our conversations were nothing more than her waiting for me to take a breath so she could say her bit.

I am not broken anymore she would say with happiness. As though she was the one to fix me.

I admit I am no longer shattered on the floor but that tribute goes to God. I don't live for anyone else because I want this to be the only hell I ever know.

What she doesn't seem to understand is glass never fits together exactly as it should and my rough edges still cut, still scar, still harm others and myself.

If she only knew.
406 · Jun 2016
Miles Halter Jun 2016
It was quick, fleeting, and will always be remembered,
It filled this inner void I had, but left me dismembered,

It was a feeling I craved, The one I lusted after,
For what it’s worth it wasn’t the worst or some kind of ultra disaster,
It hasn’t hurt anyone, well I’m sure she wishes she could forget faster,
But I will never forget this page out of a dangerous chapter,

It has my favorite quote,
My favorite hope,
My favorite thought about getting lost and experiencing a desire to cope,

There won’t be days in february where she gets flowers,
There won’t be strollers, weird reunions or baby showers,
There won’t be scrapbooks, letters, or home made meals to devour,
There will be sleepless nights and well spent hours,

She may not want a relationship but she made me feel love when I needed it most,
I want to feel pressure from her fingertip but have to settle for thoughts of when they were close,

Was it a make up - make out it sure didn’t feel that way?
Was it a wake up call if so it didn’t work out that way,

I feel like it was the perfect decoration,
The way we locked into the perfect formation,
Cliche poems written about how it was salvation,
Are my summation or translation
Of working out the equation,
That being real... I was thirsty and needed ******* hydration,

But you love me,
Well that feels really nice.

I spent hours up late trying to figure out if you did,
Thought about the small stupid things I should change about the way I live,

6, 5,
This is where I should say I love you and I would never lie,
But rather, the us line would be about our *** drive,
The back of a van, folded down seats, Ed Sheeran playing through the night,

Funny how I always write about a memory,
It’s like I wait for the right day to listen to the words of this inner me,
Wait for the right time to reignite our synergy,
Moments with little action, a lot of adrenaline pumping into energy,
Promises to make sure we aren’t alone when we are elderly
Speaking in private, I want to talk to you really but it always becomes generally,
Except for those nights with sand and stars I remember so tenderly,
Flashes of what could never be,

But is that the truth. I don’t ******* think so.

I don’t think that is the case,
I think with a little faith the sixth could live to the eighth,
And the eighth could go on further into time and space,
Sure we would have less patience, less “nice” lies, less grace,
But I feel the embrace was a showcase for what could take place,
I don’t want breathing space let alone breathing room,
This isn’t a proposal, I’m not asking to be a groom,
This isn’t a disposal of throwing away what is now to doom,
But without being boastful, We would’ve been the perfect match and epic in the bedroom.

I have no idea what this piece is supposed to mean I just knew I needed to write it,
Kinda like I knew I should’ve kept my hands to myself but I didn’t fight it,
I think back to sand filled jackets and wondering if that was the night I should’ve quit,
But I never gave up even though now I understand that marked under ridiculous never-happenings is the fact we might kiss,

It’s fine, Playing pretend,
Waiting for your mind and my heart to mend,
Like a accidental picture you didn’t mean to send,
Or a series to finish so you can finally place the bookend,
Or a lousy boyfriend, Hey I know a guy,

Who would wake up in the middle of the night head in the sky,
His “life story” slowly becoming a long lie,
Nearly sweating to death feeling choked by his bowtie,

At the tournaments where you seemed preoccupied,
There were those special moments where we locked eyes,

But honestly I don’t know how to feel anymore.

I don’t know what to say.

I don’t know what to write.

I don’t know what we are.

I need to hear your opinion, your thoughts formed into words,
I need to hear which one of my thoughts you thinks hold worth,
I need to hear your laugh and tell me which are stupid,
To quit acting like a love struck kid,

Tell me to grow up, shut up, relax,
Get out of being lost but how can I without the map?

Cliche as ****.


It’s what happens when you spend all night writing trying to find the words to say to you only to delete them over and over again until you get to the point when you start writing so much and you just want to flood out all the emotions until you have nothing left so you can finally fall asleep only to have those dreams be fantasies and burn into night terrors full of hate and swearing and ….

Me without you.
Yeah. Sorry?
386 · Jun 2016
It's Gonna Be Me.
Miles Halter Jun 2016
I'm writing to remove these feelings.
Last time to this time its been hard concealing,
Each of these bubbling desires have my mind reeling,

I get it, I ******* up, "****** up" told a lie,
I wanted a girl who was down to earth and you want the ******* sky,

I want my eyes to see something new,
I wanted to take a breath and stop being this cliche glue,
My problems don't come from you but my incapability in being true,
I just want to be the one who doesn't have to worry about something new,

I only wanted what I thought  you wanted,
I didn't want closets with skeletons, my life is becoming haunted,

Dreams of slow days, sweaters and fireplaces, curled up with a book,
Not all these questions, always wondering, badgering and skeptical looks,

Maybe occasionally a fancy dinner or a ballroom with cute dress clothes,
Instead of 145% pressure, unrelenting future expectations of marriage, constant all time lows,
God Forbid I smoke,
I understand I made a mistake broke your secret code,

I'm indebted to you bet that makes you happier,
My mistake has turned the page and developed a new chapter,

I've lost control, just don't blame the crash on me,
This was supposed to be our high but my mind is clouded and I can't see,
Ensnared in your guilt restraints and I won't let myself be free,
I hurt the one I love and I deserve to feel every bit painfully,

I . I . I. seems to be all about me,
Admittedly you probably are hurting and it would be disrespectful for me to say these things,
But I'll hope for the best because restricted release would lead to relapse and you know what would bring,

The return of the silver love, Fun thoughts, clouded feelings, and best of all that glazed look in my eyes,
Relapse never had a good disguise,

Maybe it does now?

Maybe this feeling of hurt, pain, disgust, and longing for release, is my new prison,
Those fatal thoughts found a way to be hidden,
Spent all this time trying to become well versed so I could be ridden,
All I've done is cause more harm in vulnerable moments,
Fine, I'll take it and own it,

My mistake turned to mistakes,
I hope you will relate,

Because you've had a hand in my destruction if it meant anything to you,

I can't open up to someone who is constantly not understanding,
I can't relate to your perfection,
My mistakes, your "heartbreak" it should be a reflection,
Just a few nights ago you were telling me I should buy ******* protection,

Love Languages, Embracing Grace, I'll read whatever,
I hope you know a book or some cool quotes aren't going to sever,
My issues from heart, in that place they are regarded as treasure

I try to write in an order, a rhyme scheme maybe?
Seems like word ***** because my stomach is to tired to continue the real thing.

All I wanted was love and quiet,
I guess you want perfect image that is quite loud,
Match made in heaven right?
365 · Aug 2015
I can't believe that
Miles Halter Aug 2015
I can't believe that.

If I did I wouldn't be able to breath. If I believed that truth then I wouldn't be able to see clearly. If I believed that fact then I wouldn't be able to see the future me that I worked endlessly to achieve.

I can't believe that.

Why? What does it gain for me to end it all? What do I learn? That I am a *******. That is what I learn. Note that was't just strong language for the sake of a point. No words have a purpose and my purpose is found in words. The little "I love you" statements make me feel worth it and the "You mean nothing to me"'s make me feel worthless. Honesty is something I have always found with words.

I can't believe that... It would leave me broken again.

Better me than her.
361 · Jun 2016
An Initial Folly
Miles Halter Jun 2016
There is a certain type of feeling.

There are words for most but I can't find the one for this particular feeling.

Sickening? Gut-Wrenching? Heartbroken?

None of these really seem to work.
The way I estimate my own self worth,
Realize I'm cursed since birth and move back to the first,

Initial thought,
Hoping that while I ran from my own integrity I would trip and get caught,

I never thought I would trip and slide off the edge of the ridge,
Fall and break bones and futures full of tree houses and kids,

Seems like I ******* up. Yeah, to say the least,
All I have ever wanted was freedom enough to be entrapped with you in the sheets,
Maybe Sunday mornings with our son, a football, and some cleats,

But I ****** up didn't I.

You've sworn now and I guess that changes things.
I messed up enough to burn up everything I had to bring,

I messed up some purities, crossed some lines that weren't mine to cross,
I've taken so much time trying to protect you but I've only lost,
I've paid the dues, for meals, little dates, but seems like now I've paid a higher cost,

A price I wasn't excited to of created,
But I did.
348 · May 2015
Silver Tongue
Miles Halter May 2015
The monster claws at skin leaving scars. His silver eyes look at me with understanding and hunger, longing for our intimate connection. He can be pointed but I know he understands me. I know of his silver tongue but I still listen to him naively. I know he can hurt me but I still love him. I let him dress me in crimson and relief. Others don't understand, when they realize they look at me like I am insane, I guess they have a point to. Just because I look for the best me in all the worst ways doesn't mean I should be considered a psychopath. Just because I found a way to cope with the abusive nature of this earth doesn't mean I should be hated? I desire his touch he knows my curves and my imperfections. At least he accepts me.
322 · Jun 2017
Let Me Out
Miles Halter Jun 2017
She was hurt and confused. She didn’t know what she wanted and hated putting him through her cycle of immaturity. She hated writers that describe her by “She” instead of writing her name.

He doesn’t know what I want. ****, I don’t even know if I know what I want. I think I want him but how can I be sure. He doesn’t like it when I don’t talk and ignore him but this texting thread is the only safety I have from him. If he is frustrated with me, he won’t be able to care. Wow. This should just be a business opportunity: “Don’t buy trojans, try ******* that special someone off.”
“So, are we going to talk or?”
Here he goes again, it’s my fault. I shuffle my feet and remind him that I don’t have a topic to talk about.
“I think I am going to be single soon.”
“Well, when you answer my question, I can answer.”
Another ploy to try and get me to open up, I won’t fall for it.
“That is unfair.”
It really isn’t though. I think I totally should be talking, I just don’t want to be his. Not like this, not right now. This isn’t reasonable.
Love isn’t reasonable. Stay out of my mind you filthy serpent. You know nothing of who I am or what I have to go through to sit across from him. This flask is near empty and I can barely entertain a conversation. Holding his hand feels like a roller coaster that you know could ride right off the tracks. Beautiful. Terrifying.
“Here we are again, in silence.”
I don’t know why I apologize to him every time he says I don’t entertain him enough. I’m not his puppet, I would like his hands to be all over and inside me. Wow, nice thought there, really helpful for this whole avoidance thing.
“Do you want to fight?”
“No, but it feels like we are going to. We always do.”
Why did I say that? I need to stop. I need to keep going, I’m not even light headed anymore.
shuffling, rejection, awkward apology
“Sorry, I just can’t, I can’t do that.”
“It’s fine.”
“Are you just going to keep being mad and not talking?”
Fight with me, fight with me, please.
“I said I’m fine”
“But you are not fine. If you are going to be like this... let me out of the car”
“I’m not like that, even if you hate me, I can take you home.”
I ******* hate that about him but I love it.
“Let me out.”
(Please don’t)
261 · Jun 2016
Miles Halter Jun 2016
Friends turn,
we live and learn,
wait for our bonds to burn,
find ourselves only to yearn,
to be connected long term,
but I find that we can not,
race towards happiness only To get caught,
tangled in drama and just when you thought,
you were gonna make it you are stopped,
left alone to rot,

Real Life.

After all of this you want to spill and YOU want to be forgiving?

Really? K.

Secure. Commit. Complete. Finished.

I feel like every **** time I try to tell YOU something it goes in and is barely registered.

I feel like every time I tell you something you listened but it was only for your schemes to be played out.

I didn't force you. You arranged, schemed if I was to be artistically over dramatic.

I want it to just be finished.
236 · May 2016
Just some things.
Miles Halter May 2016
Things start. Things progress. Things feel amazing. Things are overthought. Things die. Things are missed. Things are reminisced but things are leaving.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Oh just things."

— The End —