Funny little thing is she,
She laughs at lightning in the storm.
And what most would see as torture,
She inflicts with pride and is not scared.
Her skin is sharp like broken glass,
And through her lover’s skin she tore.

Through her safest home she tore.
Stupid little girl is she.
They try to mend her broken glass
But the edges cause destruction of a storm.
Please don’t run, don’t be scared,
Don’t be a part of her torture.

Running love is her only torture,
Not pain that through her heart tore.
Distance leaves her crying scared,
Unable to control the fear in her.
Maybe she is the rain in the storm,
Shattering passing window glass.

Maybe she doesn’t mind the glass,
She doesn’t think this is torture.
And maybe it’s not a storm,
But a hurricane she tore
Out of her skin. She
Is no longer scared.

The distance does not make her scared.
Her skin is no longer broken glass.
Alive little girl is she.
Nothing more will be her torture.
She doesn’t need the lover she tore.
No longer does she hide from the storm.

Not sunny skies, but no more storm.
Not yet calm, but at least not scared.
Not yet healed, but not torn.
Maybe cracked, but not broken glass.
Some discomfort, but it doesn’t feel like torture.
Strong little girl is she.

Screaming insanely she tore herself out of this storm.
No one will say “she’s gonna lose it”. Because she somehow she is not scared.
It’s a mystery how she fixed her glass, or how she can still tolerate the torture.

The Joys and Pains of Unrequited Love

Of all my years of life I’ve had one dream,
that one like you, with visage radiant,
would grace me with your captivating smile.
Your presence carries with it such a joy,
your voice, elixir for my weary soul.
I wish to drown in this unbridled love.

Oh how I wish you would return my love!
I wish to wake up from this lucid dream,
which both elates and haunts my longing soul.
I wake each morn with sadness radiant,
because I long to share with you the joy
I feel whene’er I’m graced by your sweet smile.

Oh how your simple presence makes me smile!
As I wait for reciprocated love,
I strive to be content and take my joy
in living for this fantasy, this dream.
For when I see your light so radiant,
it kindles life to flames within my soul.

Oh how my face betrays my troubled soul!
You see the pleasant contour of my smile,
and ne’er it fails to shine so radiant,
as I am plagued by unrequited love.
One day I’ll make reality from dream,
And soar with you in long deserved joy.

Oh how I long to share with you my joy!
Just like an anchor weighing on my soul,
it serves to power this unending dream.
I wish to show the pain behind my smile,
from holding in this life-affirming love
while gazing at your form, so radiant.

Oh hear my words fair goddess, radiant!
One day, I will turn sadness into joy,
as I confess to you my boundless love
and intertwine with yours, my bursting soul.
Until that day, contented with your smile,
I will but wait for you within my dream.

How radiant, your bright and piercing soul.
Such joy that I will take within your smile.
My love, until we meet again… in dream.

You are an artist
A sculptor who crafts fine works
But you also sculpt with your mind
And beautiful imagery written in gold
Flows across the page
You are the gentle rains of spring that nurture us
The summer sun that warms us
The bounty of autumn that feeds us
In winter you are the crackling log fire that comforts us
When you leave you will leave with our love
But you will steal our souls
You are the Soulsurvivor but we are not
Soul less we will be cast upon barren ground
There to wither and die
For without a Soul we cannot survive

I texted you
at 12:30 a.m.
with a beer can on my bedside table,
asked you
if you remember
how my lips taste,
told you
it's been a while
since anyone's touched me
like you used to,
added
haha, I love you
to texts that
didn't quite make sense;

I asked for it.

That's what I keep
telling myself.
It's not ****
if I gave consent,
it's not ****
if you didn't touch me,
it's not ****
if I said yes when
you offered to make me less lonely.

I remember when
that boy you were always jealous of
told me he loved me,
I remember wanting to say it back,
I remember the smell of
my mom's *****
on his breath.

I said no.
Took his arm off my shoulder,
turned my head away,
told him not to kiss me,
told him not tonight,
told him he was drunk,
he was lying to himself,
he was just lonely,
he would not love me
in the morning.

I was right.
He told me
the last thing he remembered
was sitting down next to me,
he said
sorry if I tried anything,
I said he didn't.

My point is,

the boy I loved,
longed for,
still long for,
was giving himself to me,
his flushed cheek on my shoulder,
his hands in my hair,
my name on his lips,
and I said no.

My point is,

I, whom you knew to be vulnerable,
to be empty,
to be broken,
was begging you to save me,
my desire on your phone screen,
my scars in your memories,
my cries echoing in your eardrums,
and you asked for more.

My point is,

there comes a point
in every person's life
when they are given the choice
to do the right thing,
or do the wrong thing
and convince them self
it was the only option.

My point is,

I could have been
at your doorstep,
in your bedroom,
begging,
pleading,
naked,
ready,
and the right answer
still would have been
no.

My point is,

you did not **** me,
but you made me feel violated.
You are not a *** offender,
but you are an awful person.
I did say yes,
but you should have said no.

My point is,

I may have asked for it,
but that doesn't mean
you should've given it to me.

“A man who lies to others is a liar, but a man who lies to himself is a fool.”

So call me a fool. Call me vulnerable, fragile, tainted, shattered, jaded, cynical. I would rather lie to myself than let you in, because I am not known for my bravery, and I never will be. Call me a coward. Call me proud, selfish, bitter, angry, sad, damaged. I would rather take the easy way out, because there is no way I will tear down walls I’ve built for years just for you. I am not that strong. Call me weak. Call me blind, deaf, senseless, foolish, ignorant, insane. I would rather be alone, because it is safe and secure and familiar, and because the sadness of it has become an integral part of me—I wouldn't know how to live without it. Call me pathetic. Call me defeated, lonely, haughty, rejected, triumphant, defeated, defeated, defeated.

I want to forget the sound of your voice. I want to forget your hands, your fingertips. I want to forget your face, your smile, your laughter.

I want to forget the color of your eyes.