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Waking Apnea
Gender Nonconforming    I love you more than I hate myself.
waking wonder
Malaysia    idealistic, naive, easily enchanted; young and just a little tired.

Poems

Douglas Goins Feb 2018
Monday.

I find myself waking up.
With the intent.
Of it just being another day.
But once I go out.
My eyes fall upon you.
& for the first time.
In four long years.
Your eyes fall upon me.
In a way that freezes me.
Where I can barely stand.
In a way that consoles me.
Where I can hardly breathe.
In a way that moves me.
Right to where you are.
& where you are.
Is a place.
Where I find myself.
Always wanting to be.
Because the way you walk.
I will always follow.
Because the way you talk.
Will always be heard.
Because the fragrance you spray.
Will always be appealing.
& appealing to me you are.
& always have been.



Tuesday.

I find myself waking up.
Replaying a dream.
Over & over.
In my head.
A simple dream.
Where the sun is shining.
The birds are chirping.
The flowers are blooming.
& my love for you is showing.
But I'm afraid to speak it.
I'm afraid to have it heard.
By those beautiful ears of yours.
Because its my secret.
One I find so dear.
One I hold so close.
To my heart that beats for you.
Wishing one day.
It could beat for us.
But I say it anyway.
Because all I keep thinking.
Is what's life without love?
What's love without you?
& the answer I receive.
Is one I cannot accept.
Because my life is you.
& I love every bit of my life.
Dream or no dream.



Wednesday.

I find myself waking up.
To meet you at a coffee shop.
You're heavy on the sugar.
But there doesn't seem to be.
Anything sweet about your life.
Or better yet said.
You don't see anything sweet.
About your own life.
Because you're cautious with your speech.
You're picky with your people.
You're harmful to your heart.
& you're partial with me.
I would like to save you.
From the very essence.
That is you.
Because the you that I see.
Is who I believe.
You're meant to be.
So you can tell me you hate me.
You can push me away.
Just as long as you know.
That my love for you.
Is here to stay.



Thursday.

I find myself waking up.
With you right next to me.
Half clothed.
Lips half parted.
With your curly dark hair.
I can't bring myself to wake you.
Cause that just means.
The moments at its end.
& from the moment you kissed me.
Which made me lead you to this bed.
Where I shared heavy breaths with you.
Where you shared nail marks with me.
Where we shared our humanity.
I can't bring myself.
To have this end.
Because I didn't ask you to leave.
I didn't not hold you close.
I just watched you sleep.
Until the curtains on my eyes.
Finally decided to close.
Where I dreamt a dream.
Of us being together.
Even after the curtains of our life.
Decided to close.



Friday.

I find myself waking up.
With the impression of your body.
On the right side of the bed.
Where you should be.
Your scent.
Is something you left behind.
But as for a note.
A simple goodbye.
That seems to be missing.
Following you.
Right through the door.
& for someone like me.
Who is accustomed.
To being the one missing.
To being the one to not say goodbye.
To being the one whose text replies are short.
It kills me to receive.
Each one you send back.
Because I'm not a stranger.
I'm not suffocating you.
& I am the same.
As I was on Monday.
So tell me why.
You create distance.
Tell me why.
You define enough.
By looking into ***.
& multiplying your past.
To produce an answer.
That I am not even a part of.
But in your eyes I have to be.
Because how could I.
Just love you for you.
When no one else could.



Saturday.

I find myself waking up.
To find myself growing up.
To find myself being enough.
Enough to be toe to toe.
Ear to ear.
Eye to eye.
Face to face.
With you.
Telling you everything.
That I have been wanting to say.
Needing to say.
For four long years.
& I know.
You may not believe me.
You may still walk away.
But here & now.
I'm leaving it all in the air.
Giving it all on this floor.
So when you do choose.
I know I said everything I could.
I know I told you everything I felt.
I know there was nothing else.
That I could do.
Or could have said.
So here I am.
Fighting for you.
Not just because I love you.
But because I need you.
Because you are my savior.
When no one else could be.
My entire life.
I've never felt that feeling.
That I felt with you after ***.
When a man is the most honest.
Those fifteen to twenty seconds.
When everything is done.
You are the only one.
That I wanted to stay.
That I needed to hold.
That I felt for.
Felt for way more than just physical.
Felt for way more than just emotional.
I just felt love.
The purist form.
What God intended.
That it should be.
& not what everyone else.
Says love should be.
I can't promise you.
That I won't upset you.
That I won't make you mad.
But I can promise you.
That I will love you everyday.
No matter if you are sick.
Or annoyed.
Without makeup on.
& everyday I will fight for you.
Being your knight in shining armor.
Saving you.
From strangers.
From friends.
From family.
& mostly yourself.
So that you can be.
The princess you're supposed to be.



Sunday.

I find myself waking up.
To an empty bed.
To no texts.
& no calls.
So I find some clothes.
Lace my shoes.
With the intent.
Of it just being another day.
Because in all it is.
I said what I said.
I did all I could.
I am in love with a girl.
Who doesn't love herself enough.
To believe anyone else can.
I walk the streets.
Going to all the places.
That I think she might be.
But I only find my thoughts.
& they accompany me.
Through the rest of the day.
Until I unlace my shoes.
& get rid of my clothes.
Do I hear a knock at my door.
You stand in sweats.
& your hair is a mess.
You tell me you love me.
But that you aren't what I need.
You wish you could be.
Because you believe.
In someone like me.
You thank me for everything.
& go to turn to leave.
But I just can't let you leave.
Because this home.
Is big enough.
For the both of us.
& my heart.
Is patient enough.
For your love to mature.
So don't say no.
Just say you'll try.
Because I can't go another morning.
Finding myself.
Waking up alone.
Mikaila  Aug 2013
Waking Up
Mikaila Aug 2013
Sometimes I stay up nights waiting for you, just so I can pass the days that follow them asleep and not awake to miss you.
The daytime is always harder, the waking up.
Staying awake into the small hours of the morning, that is somehow a bit numb and detached.
Late at night I can even stand to think about some things that hurt me from behind the glass of my own fatigue, protected from their full effect.
I stay up as late as I can, in times like this.
If I can whittle away the hours and the next day delay my wakefulness,
I do it wholeheartedly.

Waking up is a vile thing.
No, not just because mornings are drowsy and too bright and too quick and I never feel rested if I get up in the AM.
Waking up is terrible in a different way than even that.
It is insidious.
It is the departure from my dreams.
Even the awful ones are better than the waiting.

Going to sleep I adore, truly, because it is an escape from living without the permanence of dying.
But ah, the waking up.
That is what makes me hesitate long hours in the dark depths of the early morning.

I dread waking up.
All the illusions are shattered, good or evil,
And I must taste the bitterness of reality.
Every day it gets a little more sour.
I suspect it's this way for many people. I don't know, though.
I know only that in the first moments of waking up each day, my heart is seized by this wicked, burrowing grief,
And so I begin each of my hours of awareness with the painful sorrow of loss.
That is why I stay in bed so late, most days:
I lay there and before the haze of sleep departs I think, "Oh no, not yet, I can't bear it yet."
And in fear retreat back into my stupor.

I don't know what it is, this feeling.
If I had to put a name on it... I'd say it feels akin to disappointment, regret, and....
Shame, all at once.
It swells up inside me and fills me to my fingertips the moment I decide to leave my bed for the day, sometimes even before.
And the fact that it can fill me everywhere reminds me that that space is usually unoccupied by anything of substance.
The only comfort I've ever found for it was the safety of your arms, and even then only a few rare times when you and I were truly honest with each other and I clung to you like I always want to.
It's like I am only a shade,
Made of glass thin as paper and hollow,
Only in the shape of myself,
Until the moment you wrap your arms around me
And only THEN am I flesh.
And when you aren't around this cold hard seed of panic and bitterness rattles around inside, making an awful high pitched tinkling sound and chipping the brittle walls.
I'll be waiting a long long time for you,
For this feeling of total loneliness that comes upon me each day as I open my eyes to the world to dissipate and anything of any real joy to take its place.
So to make it easier on myself, sometimes I stay up nights,
Waiting for you,
Just so I can pass the days that follow them
Asleep and unaware,
And unconscious,
And unfettered,
And unable, in my innocent ignorance of all the world's harsh, brutal reality,
To miss you.
Until the headache that comes with too much sleep forces sunlight into my mind,
And I must wake up,
And face the day all over again.
Oh, I just loathe waking up.
Edward Coles Feb 2014
I keep waking up
to greet the day,
to strangle thought
and keep away
all the doubt within my mind,
of perished hope
and truth confined.
I keep waking up
to find the beat,
to find where reason
and reality meet,
to find a place of simple joy,
of lantern light
and reading boy.
I keep waking up
to do the same,
to plant my crop
and learn my name,
to call myself a useless part
of human waste
and vanity's art.
I keep on waking up
without a cause,
without a flame
to light the gauze
of life's shadowy stage
for platonic dreams,
of Aquarian age
and pyramid schemes.
I keep waking up
to find myself,
to read the books
left on the shelf,
and of all the doubt within my mind,
I promise to you
that I shall find
a way to keep going,
as I fall to a mess,
a way to keep showing
the way that you press
belief to my being
and hands to my chest
and now, all that I'm seeing
in dreams never whole,
is how you alter my state,
how you fill my bowl.

So for you I'll keep waking
and for you I'll stay here;
in the hope that somebody
will hold me so dear.

All that's still living
is in the sigh of my soul,
how you keep me from sleeping,
and how you fill up my bowl.
One foot in front of the other.
©