Should I say that I'm in love?
For only one with the warmest heart knows
That love is a beautiful sin.

It gives pleasure, and joy
Warmth, and happiness.

However, when torn apart,
It creates a raging, endless storm,
Which causes madness across our land.

Be careful who you love,
For not everyone will bring you that sensational warmth.

In fact, bring an umbrella,
Just in case.

This is heartbreak, this is that tugging you feel when you hear his name. This is anxiety, this is how you know how real "this" can be. This is the feeling of numbness, this is how you cope. This is how you welcome depression, this is how you never got to tell him you're sorry. This is how you want to crawl into bed and only come out when he says it's okay, that he's there. This is how you fake a smile, and tell everybody it's okay, that he's not feeling pain anymore, when you're still trying to believe it yourself. This is how you tell the voices in your head to shut up, this is how you ask the nurses, "why?"

This is how you teach yourself to let go, this is how you tell yourself he's okay. This is sadness trying to comfort you, telling you about how great of a person he was, but it's sadness, everything about it makes you feel worse. This is that ball of tightness you feel in your throat when your mom hugs you, this is you trying to be strong for everybody. These are your shaking hands holding his favorite shirt, this is the strength he taught you. This is the throbbing in your head, this is how you regret. This is how you tell yourself that's it's okay, this is how you convince yourself that he still loves you, this is how you convince yourself that people aren't so bad. This is how you don't want to look in the mirror, this is how you find the strength to get out of bed. This is how you forget how to sleep, this is how you remember was misery is. This is how you shut people out regardless of how unhealthy it is, this is how you look up to stretch your neck with your eyes closed and take a deep breath.

This is how you miss somebody.

You lack the conviction you seek,
to be, you will have to search deep,
remember the train is passing you by,
once gone it will never retreat.            
The melody was already played yet
the track list shows no sign of an end.  
Up beat, relaxing, dramatic or smooth
each one will interpret it as they can.                                                      
Your difference is not what is different,
unless you make it yell odd, don't hammer
your brain with thoughts of disdain you're
as ordinary as peas in a pod.                        
You will gain, you will lose, a gain you
deserve a lost that's been bruise.  
Despite of the outcome that you may
endure, remember to never lose you.

You keep telling yourself that it's ok,                
that there's nothing wrong but you            
sound like a whisper and they sound               
like a shout.

I want silence
7 minutes
Without you in my head
5 minutes
Where the bustle of this so called life is muted
And the next 23 seconds
To just breathe without feeling so much shame

I spend an ungodly amount of time
Washing away your memory
My last shower lasted
49 minutes, 37 seconds
I can still smell gin and your musky cologne
Sometimes I feel clean...almost whole
Today I feel filthy, stained with past violence

Someone said that memories eventually fade
Slowing bleeding away into nothing

They lied

© 2013- 2014 Peach

I have always loved you.

I imagine us 30 years down the road.
I am massaging your shoulders,
relieving knots.
Life gets me in knots too.

I've put the kettle on
I have my own key now so I come and go as I please
like the old friend I've become.
I feed your cat when you go away at weekends.

Smelling your pillow
Remembering you at 40.
Your dressing table
as I pictured it.

I have my own family now
but I met you 10 years before I met my wife.
I rode the wave of your smile,
came crashing down
the day you announced you'd met someone,
holding out for the real thing.

For; I was just a boy,
what could I deliver apart from newspapers
and the odd dodgy innuendos? you laughed at
tossing your hair.
Humouring me
but,
Never letting on that you cared.

I slip away every second night
when the second hand rests between the 8 and the 9
and it is quarter to 10.
I am on my way to see you.
We play cards and toast a drink into midnight.
Sometimes I reach for your delicately aged hand
twiddling with your rings,
knowing mine would have been the sparkly one.
But not a patch on you.

We lock eyes for around a minute,
My throat is dry.
Telepathically I tell you
I have always loved you.
Whether you are 45 or 75
I will always love you.

I will be like a tree to you
neath whose shade you lie
as the days pull you down
and my branches long for
the pull of your weight-
the only kind I will allow
to pull me down.

Painless is the way
I shed my leaves for you,
die a slow death
all for your love for a golden autumn,
and again I come back to life for you,
because winter is a lonely business.

Your faith in my hold
is strengthened over these glad years,
unbreakable perhaps,
like how my roots are interwoven
into your ribs.

My poetry is eternal for you,
growing each day
and when you cut me open,
the rings will tell you of the years
I bled for you.

I will be a tree to you,
your very own Eden,
and the day I die,
I hope my roots reach out to you
when the time comes for you to
marry into the earth.

Only a vehement storm
can put me down.