What’s one more broken heart?
Theirs or mine.
It’s like taking another drink, seven and a half ounces of Stoli in.
It doesn’t matter at that point.
The taste of love has long since been dulled
burned out of my mouth.
It used to be a sweep of a hand made my cheeks blush
but no more.
So simple a child’s mind is. A better understanding of love they have
than this fading soul.
And to friendship, the thing that makes all of this possible.
I have blown that bridge to pieces, the shattered remains lodged in my hands
my feet
my mind
haunting what I once believed I controlled --
I did not need some lover as long as I had my companions.
They deserve more. Deserved more.

I have betrayed forever

He stands at the sideline, cheering without a clue.

A smiley face becomes a sunrise on my screen.

He wears his cologne.

I catch his eyes, when we both weren’t looking.

Each hug lingers a few more seconds.

When I do something silly, a voice, a crazy dance – I find him right beside me, doing the same exact thing.

Conversation flows, tumbling over and over.

Nothing is out of bounds.

I have to say
The truth be told
I'm addicted
I'm addicted to bettering myself
But not in thy way of improving oneself within
Improving myself with cosmetics
I'm addicted to the dark eyeliner
The cherry red lips
The perfect skin
It gives me confidence
It makes me scared to look my natural looks
Even when nobody else is going to lay eyes on me
I feel like I still have to put it on
For myself

If only this lusting would pass.
If only you would bring me.
If only I hadn’t messed up.

But that is a past I cannot afford to think about.
Enjoy the attention, she says. I can’t.
For a promise lingers on the horizon of some happily ever after.

What a load of



something?

They may be on to it,
this thing they call love.

If only I had any clue.

Stuck in a great divide of non-commitment and grasping at thin air.
(Is that even a sentence worth writing?)

For I haven’t made any great decision. A cop out. Or coping?

I have chosen what I think
Will be the right course of action.
Then again,
I didn’t really choose it.

So before I wrote of an other,
And he has chosen his path, so it seems.
He hasn’t actually confronted me.
But females do have this sense
Of where something should end,
Whether or not we choose to listen to
The little man inside our brains.

This little man
Will eventually be quieted
Which scares us even more.

The trouble is sometimes the little man only whispers
In our ears and so it is easy to miss,
Or hallucinate.

I cannot tell what is happening with my little man.
He speaks of grandeur and ruin,
But which he cannot predict.
Of which I cannot predict,
Because the little man is me,
And I am the determiner
Of my actions.

The only thing I seem to be sure of
Is that I know what I want,
But not what is real.
Am I imagining chemistry
With the one person who takes me for who I am
And doesn’t try to change or shape me into a certain kind of mold?

But then again have I been molded
By life and experience
Into a new person that is not confident,
But arrogant?

I expect boys to fall at my feet,
Like I am a ******* goddess of some sort,
But that’s not who I actually am.
He calls my bluff,
But he still thinks I deserve good,
Just not a God.
I don’t think he considers himself a God.
But also I don’t think he considers me
As his romantic love.
Just a love-stricken,
Love-obsessive
Girl.