I'm at war with myself.
My confidence caught in between
a battlefield of destructive choices,
defeating words and deafening voices,
that strike me down constantly.
I'm over taken by armed anxieties,
their vocalities violently shattering
any chance I've had at victory.
My white flag falling at my feet,
as I hear them scream,
"You'll never be good enough!"

To my literary soul mate,

As your journey continues
in vast and distant lands,
I watch your life
pass in pictures and posts.
Catching a glimpse of you in
quick and witty tag lines,
of a great story yet to be told.
Ones I may never hear the words to
as life has taken us both,
down two very different paths
that may never meet at a cross road.

I just want you to know
that a heart react on a post
can only convey
so much of what I want to say.
A “hello, hey how are you?”
“I hope you are well and safe.”

There’s something about the look in your eyes
that sinks me deeply.
Your gaze an anchor in my chest
that’s managed to snag onto the edges
of my fluttering heart.
And with every breath, I feel you pull me down into the depths of the blood that rushes to meet the surface of my cheeks.
I can’t breathe when you look at me.

My universe is collapsing
at the heart of the sun.
My skin scorched to
bare bone;
the weight of the world
coming undone.
The cells of my existence
evaporating,
as gravity pulls stardust
into my lungs.
My last breath a whisper, of
"Will you miss me when I'm gone?"

I try to grow wild flowers,
in the empty spots of my chest.
The sunshine tricking my eyes
into planting seeds,
beneath clouds that have
darkened around the edge.

A hope starts to bud,
as the light breaks enough through
to sprout dreams inside my head.

And just as roots settle into place,
the loneliness cracks across my skies,
and I break.
My weathering heart opening at the seams;
I'm a storm, ready to rage.

I am a glass,
sitting full on a mattress,
ready to spill across
your linen sheets.
I feel your heart shift,
and it tips me.

I used to draw us together;
graphite lines stretching
across our empty skins.
And like a pattern
we found ourselves connecting
to one another
like tiny constellations.

Then, one day your hands
began to erase away
at the lines that once traced
our pencil pressed affections.

Now, I find myself shading you
the darkest of blues
like the way my heart breaks
on those cold winter nights.

My fingers ache to forget you
as they erratically color
outside your dark lines.

I try to tear up our image,
but cling to our broken pieces
in hopes that they may
come together one last time.

But, they never do fit quite right,
and I draw you out of my life.

I can't sleep.
3 a.m. crawls into bed
next to me,
weighing down the sheets.
Its prying fingers ****
my eyes and pull me
away from tender dreams.
I lay until the earth ticks
and rolls over,
watching as streetlights
become a sun that peaks.
I'm over the edge of the world
lost in thought,
and my soul feels heavy.

I was jealous of
jade green oceans,
and the way they dance
when the sunlight hits
them just right.
Or, how I've ached
to wear a shade unbroken,
like the clear blue morning
with its cloudless skies.
I've even dreamed of dressing
in that cold steel gray,
that makes you want to stay
on those lonely rainy nights.
But, I've come to embrace
my amber sands,
that pull you in like the warmth
of the sun at noontime.
Only can my brown eyes
blossom and burst,
like the earth,
so tender and soft
after the storms subside.

You slip over me
like a velvet dream
that drives my senses
into dizzy circles,
as you remember
what it is like
to hold me.
I am caught inside
your tender grip,
as you allow yourself to seep
into parts of me
that have missed
your existence.

Like the sand that slips
from tired hands and
sinks beneath my feet,
you stick between my toes,
caught in a way that
irritates me.
Until I am swept off in waves
that can rid you from my keep;
I am letting you go slowly.

You say you see
comets in my eyes.
They spark to life
and quickly die
like the light that
used to ignite
inside my chest.
A starshine fire that
would burn at the edges
of a darkness that seeps
through the cracks of
my atmospheric breaths.
My lungs collapse like
planets that come to rest
in the black hole that grows
inside my heart;
what I once could love,
falls apart.

Temptation guides your
drunken exploration
of my silk surface;
as eager fingertips
graze my thighs
and hips.
Like a river,
I unfold
for your thirsty lips;
as your craving grows
to drink up every bit.
I’m a fine wine that
stains your kiss.
A loving reminder
you wear with
coffee and breakfast.

Your words break my grip
as I feel myself slip
under the waters of
my irrational mind.
Time is slowly stripped
from my consciousness
as my lungs fill with
a warmth that numbs
my senses blind.
Bit by bit, you fade
from existence,
your words falling into the abyss
of the distance between
your eyes and mine;
and I'm lost inside.

You bruise me like the evening sky,
purple clouds forming on my sunset skin.
I never knew that galaxies could ache,
as fingertips trace,
the constellations of your affections.

You pull at my flesh,
break the bone of my breast,
unlocking the chest
containing the contents of
my heart and lungs.

With frantic fingers you press,
poke and pry at my mess,
in desperate search of
the love in my blood.

Through all of your attempts,
you begin to sense
that nothing grows where
emotions should belong;
and all I do is stain your arms.

A reminder of what we used to be,
rests in the cold space next to me;
you've become an empty spot
inside my heart and head.
I miss you in my bed.

I want to be your
inner constellations.
Filling up your head with
stardust and lust;
bright longings that break
your dark thoughts
on lonely nights.

Like a shooting star I'll
burst across neurons,
burning light on
receptors that ache.
Igniting the shimmers of
glimmering memories.

When you look at the stars,
I hope it'll never be the same.

You take advantage of
my tinted cheeks,
displayed desire I didn't mean
to share like the warmth that
a winter chill breaks.
I am bitten;
smitten with eyes that
don't want my heart,
just my blushing smile.

You sink holes into my chest,
burning goodbyes into my flesh
with the ends of cigarettes;
little ashy reminders that
people are temporary.
And like the smoke that
curls from your lips,
tracing the very distance
between you and the December sky;
you escape me.

You remind me of wet socks
and November mornings.
A bitter sensation
that leaves me begging
to peel you off my soaked feet.
You overwhelm me.

Your lips are still warm
as you kiss me
with hard whisky
and a drunken tongue.
It's always about how
much you missed me
while I was gone.

I tend to fall for wasted dreams.
Strangers on street corners,
passerbys too good for me.
I would like to believe,
that one day I'll be,
loved by soft eyes
and kissed with honesty.

I have written to you,
about you,
too many times.
Wasted tired fingers
on honest lines,
waiting for you to realize
you fill up my empty life.

*I'm sick of leaving
blank spaces for you.

Too many strings are wrapped
around my heart and chest.
With such a knotted mess,
I'll cut the ties
of heavily spun lies;
I'll feel alright again.

The places you'll go,
you'll never know
what you leave behind.
Broken off bits
of my existence,
scattered across distant lines;
I'll never know what home feels like.

Your love is
candle wax melting
into the cracks
of the space between
my ribs and lungs;
like a cast
you harden my heart.

We see things differently.
With the stars blinding my eyes,
and the color of the sky
fading from yours;
we are distant universes.

How do you forget magic?
The kind that
tickled our legs
while we layed
chest to chest,
breath to breath,
thigh to thigh.

Or the kind that shatters
every fairytale dream
I dreamt.
With a single kiss
we burned away twilight,
and brought the moon
crashing to our feet,
setting fire to our lives.

"My memory loves you; it asks about you all the time."

---

You're a haunt.
With soft cold fingers,
you touch so tender
the inner-workings
of my thoughts.
Sending shivers through
all my memories;
like my heart,
I love you with my mind.

I was proposed to once,
in an unfinished treehouse,
in his backyard.
The silence that fell between us,
only reminded me that:
we were just a thought.
An idea that tasted sweet
on the tip of my tongue;
but grew sour when I laughed.
And you kicked the leaves in defeat,
knowing that this was a passing phase.
And that saying "yes" wouldn't change
the way a clock ticks.
*The very clock that would be our end.

It is
frightening
to think
that

my lack
of confidence
will
surely

be
The End
of
me

When
you
kiss
me

I
feel
so
beautiful

But
I
still
hurt

What does it feel like to be missed?
---
I often close
my eyes
and
just wonder:

What if
you could
see
what I see?

And realize
that you
really
miss me;

*Just as much as I miss you.

I'm feeling your hands
trickling like sand,
fingertips ticking
across my hour glass hips.
I'm feeling your lips
with its gentle kiss,
tickling my neck
and shoulder bits.
I'm feeling your chest
your heart beating so fast,
a tiny rib cage drum
making its music.
I'm feeling your love
the way it fills me up,
and like a tipping cup
it's too much.

*I'm feeling too much.

I'm really scared of the future;
especially now that time
is running away with my days.
I feel it as
the minutes match my heart beats,
and the seconds fly by
with each breath I take.
And it feels like I'm one step closer
towards some disaster
or another mistake;
that will do more than I planned for,
and bring about a change.

I'm sick of hanging
sweaters on clothes lines
where the sleeves,
stained blood red,
are visible to the rest of the world.

Fate
is
so
fickle.

Where
our paths
once
crossed,

I
never
see you
anymore.

I've learned how to see
the world like a canvas.
When staring long at the horizon,
the roads flood my vision like paint
running together in a muddy mess.
The landscape changes,
but everything is still the same.

Christmas lights burn brightly,
filling my face with shadows,
as sleepless nights sink into
the folds beneath my eyes.
I am caught;
mesmerized,
by the blinds' light
that shimmers and dances
across my ceiling,
disturbed by the cars that pass by.

I'm awake. It's 2 A.M.
And I don't know why.

Please don't forget my name,
like I won't forget your lips.
An entire summer in that one kiss;
it's car rides, bed sheets and white blinds,
that I miss.

There's a cold curtain
over my eyes.
Stealing away
the little bit of light
I need to feel.
I don't want to believe
that the world is
desolate and dark;
and that people die
without good reason.

You;
you prey on pretty things.
Damaging innocent bows
and precious curls.
Dainty,
delicate,
*****.
You;
you ruin her.

I'm the kind of girl
who will tell you stories
of heart breaks,
and lovers,
and their tragic ends.
Then, I'll drive you madder
by kissing your best friend.
I'll have you hooked on
lust-filled-drama,
like a ***** on heroine.
And you'll try to walk away,
probably storm off in a heated rage,
and tell all your friends
how "awful" I am.
But, I know for sure,
*you'll come crawling back again.

You give me premature ventricular contractions.
---

You touch me like a melody;
playing my skin like a silent song.
With your finger prints across my ribs,
and lyrics pressed between our lips,
I can feel you in my blood.

Pen and paper,
meet again,
in sweet love,
do they blend.
***** words of
dreamer's desires,
forming a book,
for cupid's admirers.
Pale thin skin,
covers
with ink's loving,
as the writer's heart
keeps on beating.
Even though this love
may stop at some time,
stories will always be,
a writer's valentine.

"Where is your heart?"
"I don't know."

---
Countless of times I have left
memories behind on doorsteps,
with bits of dried up feelings.
Because names become a mess
of dust and forgetfulness,
and only prevent myself from healing.
With no words to console my thoughts,
or a way to make it all stop,
I'll only fall from where I stand.
You'll ask me about my heart
why I always fall apart,
and I'll tell you, "That's how it's always been."

She's dressing up like an angel,
with wings on the corners of her eyes
and a halo around her neck.
Glitter-glossed lips to lock in a smile,
tightly winding a dress around her hips;
she's dressing to forget.
There's nothing good about a girl who is sad.

And she's got a tremble in her fingertips,
her pulse pressing against her skin
as she stares at the creature in the mirror.
Two dull eyes with a sad silver lining,
and a broken blush upon her cheeks;
she's seeing things that aren't her.
There's nothing good about a girl who is sad.

And she exhales tired sighs,
with failed wishes and last minute hopes,
letting it all die away with the rest of herself.
Because her mother never taught her love,
and her father never showed her what's right;
only leaving her to fall into the dangers of the world.
*There's nothing good about a girl who is sad.

Brown eyes
so sad
and
broken

Snowy skies
that reflect
in
them

Too cold
or
too numb
to tell

You bury all your problems,
beneath sunflower beds
and your back porch.
Cause the sun will take your sadness,
and drown it with its warmth.
And you'll sweep off the front steps,
shake out the welcome mat,
hoping he'll come inside.
And perhaps he will stay awhile,
and hold you through the night.