on long winter nights
your eyes eventually
get used
to the darkness

(it's simply biology);

I got used to a life without you
in a similar way, but

I'll never stop missing the light.

He left on Sunday and left her there
she trusted him and felt deep sorrow
As he told her "I will see you tomorrow"
For the long day, his lips felt open,
so he kissed a girl, and received no token.
She was so ***** and so poor,
his lips almost should feel swore.
On Monday she soon found out,
and her heart filled with despair.
She had 3 kids, but at the time,
she could hardly care.
Her world has end, her heart was broken,
all because her man had finally spoken.
He knew what he wanted, and it wasn't her,
she finally knew, that he's been cheating,
she has believed the lies that he has been feeding.
She was confused and felt very used.
Her kids were upset, and she was heavily crying,
her kids refused to leave and she wanted to keep trying,
she tried to forget it, she really did,
but its hard to forget something that was already done.
She had one son, that looked up to his father,
had one daughter who loved him like he was the only man in the world,
Its too late now for the mother, the feelings were cold,
for all this one kiss, and for all the times they shared,
there was no way, now how, that she could ever once more care.

One warm, peaceful, night at a bar down the street,
I ran into an elderly man
who's uncountable wrinkles and scars,
told the stories of one thousand men.
some of sorrow and some of joy
As I took to the creaky stool next to him,
he blew out a puff of smoke from his cigarette.
his fingers curled around the smoke,
almost like he was trying to grasp it
like he had let go of too many things in his long past,
and letting go of one more, even something as meaningless as cigarette smoke,
may have pushed him over the edge.

Next his eyes caught mine,
he leaned over and handed me a rose,
"deliver this to my wife." he whispered
"she's ill and I do not travel well"
"I have not admired her beauty in quite some time."

He was different and mysterious,
but that only intrigued me more,
I nodded and took the rose,
attached was a address and a room number:
Saint Anne's Hospital

Upon arriving at the room,
to my shock there was no one there!
just thousands of thousands of roses
and a note that read:
R.I.P to my beloved 1920-1963

Fifty years later and some how this crazy old man had never given up hope.
Not once.
Not on his wife,
or the love he had for her.
We all could use a little of him in our lives.

what makes me so unappealing?
is it the way my thighs briefly touch then curve
only to meet again?
my crooked smile?
tired eyes?
the way my hair curls and winds?
my attaching heart?
my small, needy hands?
my glistening blue eyes?
the wishes in the fallen eyelashes that I neglect
to brush from my cheeks?
my age that doesn't reflect my maturity?
the gaps in my brain that can never be filled?
my skeptic heart?
my pulsing wrists perhaps?
my slender neck that curves too late?
the crevices from mountains on my cheeks?
how have I become something I promised not be be?
why do I lack what other girls have?
where have I gone wrong?

i know i'm in deep
when thinking of you
feels like
thinking of me.

have you ever had someone in your life who shouldn't be?

all they do is cause you pain and endless heartache but you can't seem to say fairwell.

the time and energy spent on someone who doesn't care you exists could be used to build up your nonexistent self esteem.

what does that say about your personality?

caring about someone who doesn't give a ****?

is it inspired and kind or just utterly stupid?