I die inside
When I think of how much I want to love him
But I'm stuck loving you instead

There's nothing wrong with you.
Never has been, never will.
You might look for something to be fixed
and I know you won't feel fulfilled.

It's okay.
You're okay.
Promise me this:
to spend one night
in unfaithful bliss.

Forget all your dreams
your pain, your sorrow
please put it off
and wait til' tomorrow.

Maybe not even then.

Promise me you'll be okay.
It's actually easy to swear-
you already are. There is no 'when?'
There is no 'where?'

Tiny embers escaped the crackling fire and latched onto your pale skin
And when you felt the warmth you expressed immense gratitude towards the fire itself, though it were the embers hard work creating the fire
Despite the lack of appreciation they continued to burn up to you and provide the same connotation

Pastoral sunsets descended over the Hudson River, reflecting a palette of vibrant colors along the ripples in the water
And when you recognized the beauty of the picturesque scenery, you praised New York City as if it copyrighted the sunset itself
Although you disregarded Mother Nature's creation that spreads worldwide, the sunset stayed out a moment longer to say goodbye

Crashing salty waves echo inside your eardrums, peacefully sending you into a deep sleep
And as you fell asleep with such ease, you showed appreciation of the refreshment you felt wash over you as a slumber awaited, though it was the recurring sounds that sent you there and not the images inside your head
And aside from the depreciation the waves feel, they continue to undulate eternally, just to help a sleepless soul in need

Why is it, that you disregard the true giver of your happiness and show love elsewhere?

Broken glass pinches the skin on the underside of your toe and blood is drawn as the sting induces pain
And once the painful sensations begin, you curse the shards of glass and claim them to be the bane of your existence instead of blaming the drunken incompetent who dropped his bottle on the hardwood floor
But in a tiny squeak of movement, the broken glass apologizes but you fail to tune your ears in to the "sorry's" from the things that you hate most

A dead-end book confuses your brain that requires finite details, and anger rises up to your fiery eyes as you throw the book across the room, praying it'll burn to ashes
You failed to realize it is not the book's fault, it is the author who wrote it, but you relentlessly blame the pages and the ink, despite their endeavors in providing you with entertainment and adventure

Scorching steams held in the air above your coffee mug, you burn your tongue with the taste
smashing the mug to the ground is your idea of revenge against the execrable caffeine drink itself for being too hot
You did not choose to place the blame on yourself, for you boiled the coffee and saw the steams before you took the first sip
Although it's now splattered across the floor, the steams still wish to provide a delightful scent of hazelnut to calm the nerves that are frantic in your temples

Why is it, that you disregard the true cause of pain by blaming the non-blameworthy?

(It seems as if you cannot take responsibility for your own actions when things run amuck, but when things are delightful, you thank everything but the real reason for it's loveliness?

Is that why every detail of our love was never noticed by you, as you only loved what I could do for you?
Is that why my new perfumes never made a new impression, but you always blamed my beauty on the dress that hung over my lifeless body?
Is that why when I broke your heart you blamed me for everything that went wrong, failing to acknowledge your complexities and flaws?
Is that why a call is never returned and words are not exchanged because you poured out every negative aspect of our relationship as being my faults and deemed them the downfall of our love?
Is that why I am never enough and would never be enough for anyone?

Is it?

the darkness comes as it goes

the dread however, seems intent on staying.

falling to my feet only ends up a ****** mess

theres no soft place to fall,

no solice to take.

...

there is only the act of hardening

and tempered steel,

though, when cold to the touch

is savagely barren

it can still in the heat of fire

take on the attributes of warmth

and melt and become something rather inept

though slightly beautiful.

...

what then, is there to do but reform our selves

and invite anguish and pain and then harden and soften again

till we find the shape of our hearts in the mould of the future

we once dreamed of

if we can still remember it.

...

and dread will be our constant companion;

the third wheel in our fortunes.

which was never handed to us in any decent form of fate,

but that in that fight of going anywhere

somewhere hidden in the violent struggle

is our often ignored love

beating its heart out for the tempo to temper

and

both beats to trigger each other in all our love states

simply to be recognised for what they are,

invincible.

A silence with you
Is not
a silence

But a moment rich
with peace

The problem with intimacy is,
it can leave me more exposed,
and naked
and cold,
Then any type
of lustful encounter
ever could.

How can you open up,
and give yourself to someone,
with such little to offer,
and so much to handle.
If I could harness the hands of time,
I would use them to feel you,
in ways I never could.
I would take back the times,
I chose liquid courage,
instead of truth,
and lust,
instead of sanity.

The problem with closeness,
is it breeds distance.
And there aren’t enough,
hands of time to ever turn back,
how badly I pushed you away.

I would love to love,
but some things,
are so overwhelmingly terrifying,
you’d rather feel nothing,
than get something
and feel everything,
all at once.

I tried before,
to get to you,
in ways I never had,
like deep conversation,
and learning about each other.
But some things,
are never enough,
and sadly,
the hands of time,
can never wipe away the past.

they say
that time
heals all wounds

so then explain to me
why my heart
aches more and more
as each
agonizing second
ticks by