drape the silk over my eyes
tie the blindfold tight
take away my eyesight, i’m not one to see what lies inevitable anyway

whisper distractions in my ear
buzzing around like a misquote
constant ring of you know how much i love you
carry on buzzing, make my sanity dissipate

watch as my arms begin to try and swat you away
see the vulnerability, perfect time to tell the truth
the love buzz changes into let me *******
four months four months buzzing in my ears
the constant sound of pleading to end your self diagnosed suffering

the swatting becomes a rapid fire attempt to shut the buzzing up
you only get faster, little bug
the buzzing becomes a permanent ring in my ears
even long after it’s gone, i still hear it loud and clear

so tie the silk tight
buzz in my ear
until my sanity breaks and your sexless suffering is all i hear

silence, silence so primitive that it begs to be heard
begs for attention, for you to notice what it’s trying to tell you
but alas, silence is still white noise in empty space
everything goes left unheard

conversation, conversations that escape from soft lops like birds from a cage
aching to be free in the world, to be heard, to be noticed
words creating a cacophony, so hard to miss any that are firing out from our canon mouths
but the words you were aiming never hit bullseye, they got left unspoken

actions, actions that you could retrace all the way back to love
the imminent need for touch, a graze of calloused fingertips against smooth arms
the lack of personal space between your body and mine
eyes flickering to every target some other body part is trying to make contact with
alas, actions got misconstructed, they got left unnoticed

conclusion, conclusion of the un-phenomenon
hands locked around my waist, twist so we’re face to face
eyes locked on target, heart rates hitting a hundred
cataclysmic sparks, a new un enters the plot
unexpected response, he goes in for another
the un-phenomenon comes to an expected ending

slow dance with me  
i’ll bust out the old record player
place the album we used to love by day in and day out
the vinyl’s worn down, full of scratches and slightly lopsided from the constant wear and tear of the needle
it repels being placed on the turn tables, but i get it to fit
the needle hits and the sound is never quite right
all the damage caused to it has changed the melody from harmonic to cacophonic
nevertheless, we dance
ignoring the utter clarity that the record’s shanty melody casts upon us
that we, much like the record, are destined to break at the scratch of a needle
that we have slowly become equivalent to the album that rings in our ears and fills our tumultuously silent house
we both know this to be truth, however we refrain from acknowledging our impending doom and ignore it for an ignorance we try to convince ourselves is true
the needle runs off the record
our feet slow to a halt
the sound of a needle hitting dead wax fills the room
and we dissipate back into the ignore we so desperately need to be true

is it bad
that i can already taste the goodbye
on your tongue?
-a.c.b

in a world so hellbent
on no one being broken
i sure do get told a lot
that i can be fixed
-a.c.b

I want you
to tell me
how you feel
but right now
I still only
want you to
tell me how
you feel when
you feel the
way I want
you to feel
and it's hard
but I'm trying.

a brief encounter
hand slid up silk
a hurried kiss and glance around
onlookers would ruin the show
a secret shared between lips
pupils dilate at the sight
the desire for you still reins true
craving a brief encounter once more
the odds are against the occurrence

flash a smile
act like everything’s just fine
hide lies in plain sight
create an oscar worthy performance

count to ten
close your eyes
focus on the darkness that lies behind close eyelids
try to remember something of a pleasant time
open
notice the nail marks imprinted on pale palms

open pandora’s box
you know where it leads
is that my blood? i didn’t feel anything.

how did i end up here again?

i've never met someone who has made me realize
sometimes words just aren't enough.
sometimes the feelings surpass the rules of grammar,
stanza breaks,
word choice.
sometimes they surpass each and every one
of those 26 letters,
because not a single one could form a word
that gives justice to your beauty,
to your character,
to how you make me feel.
your love is turning me redundant,
taking away all originality
since every one of my poems now
is written with you in mind.
i'd be upset, except
the payoff is so much greater.
-a.c.b