I hide pieces of myself away
pretending it's only for a little while
looking away when pain blossoms in my heart.
Tears drip in silence, shards of hidden shame.
I disguise the true me, beneath "randomness,"
I act out, silly, all fun and games,
but when I look in the mirror my reflection turns away-- ashamed.
This is what I have become,
raindrops of misplaced truth lost in the arid desert.
Stormy seas where Greek monsters roam swallowed me whole.
I open up only to shut back down, a lost prospect at every turn.

Your lips I could have kissed again,
I think.... I think-- I know.
I dab at my own, swollen and inflamed.
Lips tender, unashamed.
Still crackling with electricity, with the heat that could exist between only us.
You had held my gaze, steadily and eyes full of emotion.
Our hearts beat, erratically.
Memories leave me dazed; I relax into your salty, soft, passionate ways.

I'm caught between these frozen sheets;
I hear my heart silently beat.
The winter's chill halts my thoughts;
Golden leaves my soul had wrought.
I breathe in frost longingly;
I continue to search for the woman I am to be.
Wind screams against her pale delicate skin;
Day battles the darkness away-- I beg to let it in.
Mind over matter is what I've been told;
do you realize that kind of **** just gets old?

With each and every kiss,
he imprints himself on my lips, my cheeks, my heart.
With each and every look,
he gives me his love, his trust, his promise, his heart.

I feel those feelings that I cannot unfeel.
I enjoy those moments that I cannot unravel.
I wish for him to be mine for forever and a day.
I pray to someone I'm not sure exists, that our love is real.

I'll lie in wait.
I'll trace my skin where he kissed and relive those moments.
I'll write a poem or two or three..
knowing that he is always here--in my heart, my mind--with me.

I don't want to say goodbye;
can we just say goodnight?
Say that we'll see each other once again,
when morning comes to light.
Good-bye sounds irrevocable and disheartening,
but good-night sounds free.
It makes me think of love,
of everything that we've become,
of "don't say good-bye"
and wonderful, wonderful things.

Each breath rattles my fragile windpipe;
Each glance towards you is a mistake.
Every step is another further towards my grave.
I trace my veins with the back of my hand, defying your commanding gaze.
I resist what every fiber of my being demands.
Breathe in, breathe in, and yet again, in.
Til the air bubbles back and I am left gasping and aching.
Each kiss fulfills the here and now; ceases all thought.
The braking of a train, the breaking of my heart.
Detach and try to untangle myself from this web of sweet perfection.
I pretend that I am omnipotent; I pretend the emotions that pass between are translucent.
Each touch, each caress, is the start of a bitter sweet addiction.
Every moment, every second, every minute, every hour with you is a beautiful disaster.

What a day is the day that we fell apart.
What a day was the day that I felt my heart begin to beat again.
The days before were a blur of tears and mess and pain and the black that came...
before.
Before there was nothing; there was blood running down my wrists, and my lips from where I bit too hard to keep myself from screaming.
The secrets I held inside to keep the pain away from you. My ***** little vice.
The branding of myself with a match and then the fighting and yelling and worthless feelings set in from all around.
But that was before.
Then a supernova hit; it refused to let go, demanded to be seen.
His presence was ripe and I felt him as surely as the draw of oxygen into my lungs.
I learned the ways of he through long nights, and shared music, stupid inside jokes, and the way you eye a stranger you'd like to get to know.
I fell in love before I knew it.
The salvation I sought came in the form of emerald eyes, smatters of freckles, and the laughter of someone who has known true pain.
What the days have been since my world exploded into a collection of everythings and nothings and in betweens;
what a day will be the days I learn the deeper inner workings of his mind just as surely as he will come to know mine.
My days go on and on; rambling poems, and collections of words that make my heart swell like the finest symphony, and of course the minutes or days or hours or whatever where I was lost in his eyes.
What would my days have been had he not burned the impression of himself unto me?
Cold and lonely, dark and desolate; my over dramatic tendencies would know no bounds.
The blood would seep into the fabric of my life, slashing away anyone who tried to get too close.
The pain would burn bright and rare like a comet until eventually the darkness would fall and I would be alone: numb, broken, destroyed.
But every time he opens his mouth, whether it's to curl his lips upwards, or to speak with that tone I hold so dear, or to lean towards me and tangle our mouths together....
The pain recedes, my breath leaves, and I am left hoping and praying for that which is impossible even if I don't have anyone to pray to.
I pray, oh how I have prayed and wished and hoped and believed, that he will stay.
What will be the day when that eclipse that is he that lit up my life when all was empty and gone, decides to take his leave away from me and my love and heart and all my promises I dared to give to him?
The desire to burn and imprint myself so that he will ne'er forget, and every day, when he is gone, he can look back and think fondly of me and the memories that I have scratched with all my might onto his soul, that desire exists in every single pore of my body.