I drank two glasses of a cheap wine and it left a sour taste on my mouth. It was bitter like your tongue and the mindless remarks that escaped from your daydreams. I felt like it was quite appropriate.
Yesterday I read on the news it rained for three days in California. Isn’t it thoughtful of you that you took your rainy mood to fill the blue with clouds and the sun with thunder? Then I mentally cursed myself for hoping that you had taken your gray umbrella with you simply because it would match the gray from your tired eyes.
I drank two glasses of wine and, well, the alcohol didn’t work. The fridge was empty and so was the your side of the bed. I sat on the couch with a half bottle of wine as my company and it rained inside my apartment too. It didn’t leave marks, it didn’t water my plants or wet the books. It just rained and rained.
(I was with you in California.)
Until my eyes dried.
The bottle got warm.
My legs fell asleep and I tripped and fell on my way to the kitchen; I bruised my right knee. I bit my tongue and didn’t make a sound.
The rain didn’t leave any marks, the wine did. A blood red stain in my living room mat to match the dark red sleepless nights you left with your apology filled goodbye written on a wrinkled napkin. These sleepless nights you left me with to match with the city that never sleeps.
Oh, so very thoughtful of you.
(You should’ve left me with the whiskey I kept under the kitchen cabinet, your The Smiths album and some painkillers for my metaphorically shattered bones.)
(I never really liked red wine.)

I have never been a religious soul but I found a cathedral in my bedroom in the form of your body hardening beneath the white linens attached to my mattress. It was the perfect combination; I'd begin on my knees between your thighs and sin again and again in the form of sliding you down my throat, and then I would crawl up your body and sit on your lap and rock back and forth as I prayed for redemption. I never knew grace until you pressed your kiss to my breast and I never felt a revelation until you tucked your hand inside me for safe-keeping and wouldn't remove it until my whole body was shaking. And because I have never been a religious soul I fear that I cannot promise to return to this cathedral but I'll be ****** if I don't burn it down before I go.

i cry out the massed molecules of this  malevolent multiverse
for a cessation of this tortuous existence.

i never want to hurt anyone ever again.

i walk through the field of flowers and leave behind nothing but ashes and arsenic.

i am like a lonely hurricane inside a china shop
i destroy everything i touch
and only wish to be loved.

i have apologized
until sorry is no longer a word
simply a jumble of sounds spilling out of my mouth
with no meaning
and no purpose.

i could say it to you
in every language in this wide world
paenitet
désolé
triste
scusate
and none would be enough.

I have fallen in love with the lilac trees
oh how i long to be the gentle wind
that blows slowly through their leaves

i could speak ceaselessly for a thousand years
and still not explain why
your magnificence brings me to tears

i looked upon your sunkissed face
and for a moment
the vicissitudes of the fates
seemed a little less vicious
the winds a little less harsh
and the world a little less cruel.

heaven is a real place,
and it is a few inches of skin
just below your nose.

i am a man of many words and metaphors
but none of them can accurately describe
the simple beauty of the fact
that you are mine
and i am yours.

i wish to give you the world two times over
and three more times just because.

i was so lost amongst the wilds
and yet you still found me.

the pair of hands i've never held
are the ones i am dying to hold.

enter a white room
white victorian furniture lines the white walls
white frames holding white art
hang beneath a white chandelier
while the gleaming white floor
reflects white light
back onto the white walls and ceiling

i stand alone
in the center of this white room
my pale limbs are the only pinch of color
streaming from beneath my white nightgown

it's funny
you never seem to notice your breath
until its unsteady pace
becomes your only companion
(as it was mine in that lonely room)

as white blends into white
my heart pounds vigorously within my chest
and i feel the walls begin to close in around me

a tortured pain arises
as i attempt a scream
yet nothing emerges
but white noise from my lips

i charge towards a towering white wall
but the closer i get
the further back it retreats
so far, in fact
that i can no longer make out
the white sailboat on the white lake
from the white picture inside the white frame
hanging evenly on the white wall

as i now exist
(a pigmented dot in a white universe)
i am lost and alone and anxious

the walls have long since gone
taking with them the white furniture
and any hope of return
to my colorful past

so here i sit
writing on white paper with a white pen
a poem in white ink
(dare anyone tries to decipher it)
about a white room in a white world
that has trapped this pigmented girl
in its cold, white grasp

(but other than that,
death isn't too bad)

Boy with the beautiful smile-
Sure, I loved sleep
But dreams couldn't compare
Not to talking to you until my mind screamed for rest
And the butterflies in my stomach settled

Boy with the amount of love to fill an ocean-
Everybody said we were 'perfect' together
And I always thought they just said that
But I believed it one day a couple weeks ago
When I saw you with her, your eyes were emotionless

Boy with crooked pinky-
Sometimes I intertwine my own fingers
Closing my eyes, losing myself in a daydream
Where your voice is more than an echo in my mind
And I even believe for a few seconds you're still here

Boy who called me angel-
I still write about you until my fingers ache
And still after that I keep writing
Because there's just some people you could write about forever
And darling, you're one of them.

Boy who listened to music with me-
I still listen to our song on rainy summer nights
As the sun goes down and my smiles turn to frowns
Sometimes (all the time) I wonder where you are?
How are you?

Boy who let me borrow his sweatshirt-
My favorite foods don't taste the same anymore
Not after the sparks of your tongue burnt my mouth
Not to mention, how you left my eyes lifeless
Foods don't even look appetizing anymore

Boy with the corny jokes and sayings-
Today I heard someone say your favorite phrase
It used to annoy me to no end
But this time I teared up because it was funny
And I was just to dumb to realize it then

Boy with the lovely blue eyes-
Your eyes haunt me whether I'm dreaming or not
And what haunts me more is the fact that
I may never see you again
While your off somewhere beautiful
Smiling and laughing with her

At least you are happy

(p.s. these are all
for, about, and to
you and always you
it will always be you.
I miss you so much.)

Stage One - Experimentation:
I've seen it before, on movies and television shows.
The peer pressure, the giving in, the going back again.
And that's exactly what it felt like to me.
The pressure of your hand against the small of my back,
The way my body fell apart at your touch,
Like an ancient foundation crumbling,
And the desire that stirred in my chest to feel your touch once more.
At first, I only wanted a taste of you.
But the thrill that you brought me was something not easily forgotten.

Stage Two - Regular Use:
It became a casual thing,
Feeling you coursing through my bloodstream.
A knock on the door like the prep of a needle,
And your hand pulling me in like the ***** of skin,
And within seconds, a high I couldn't recognize,
As though I was walking on the sky and the
Grass was tickling my eyelashes,
And your fingers were pressed
Into the dimples in my hips.

Step Three - Risky Use/Abuse:
Before I knew it,
I was lying awake,
Wide-eyed in bed at night,
Imagining your fingertips
Tracing the inside of my thighs.
So I brought my pillow and blanket
And pitched a tent at the foot of your bed.
Then swore to myself I'd never leave your house again.

Step Four - Drug Dependency:*
A minute without your breath against my neck
Causes my chest to burn and my knees to shake,
But every time your breath fills my lungs,
I can feel the years of my life falling away.
Your lips are my nourishment,
Your sighs are my fluids,
And your kiss is my IV drip.
Every part of you has consumed every inch of my thoughts,
Even the dusty corners I have forgotten about,
And with every gentle touch, I can feel the withering of my heart,
Like a flower never to bloom again,
But it's a beautiful destruction.

this is very jumpy. i have been up for 24 hours. i don't know

There are miles between us on the queen sized bed and all I know right now is *words words words and nothing spilling from chapped lips. Passion and lust and I need you's coming out in the form of long kisses and hands-on-my-chest types of expressionism. This isn't the kind of dizzy your momma warned you about. Deep sea swimming inside your head and I'm trying to figure out a way to mean more than just someone you want in your bed. There's a tug at the bottom of my navel pulling me away from the edge, but I've already dived in. Sparks flew where your careful fingers met my hip bones, but lightning struck where your feelings for me lay and with a thunder clap they were gone as fast as rain slides down a window.
The night I found out I was not important to you, regret was just a knot in my throat. But now, it is a hand choking my heart. How beautiful it would be for you to understand just how much I miss you.
I only wanted someone to hold me like I was the source of every bit of his happiness. This wasn't love but it sure as hell felt like it, or more like it than my hand being guided to the zipper of your jeans.
I can't think much else beyond 'I miss you' and it makes me want to crawl out of my skin. Why can't I write about anything or anyone but you? I still can't shake the notion that this is a feeling best tried to outrun.
Our story is a half-packed suitcase. I will tell myself that this is going to be okay, that I am going to be okay. Even though I really think it won't be.