There’s a nasty stain on the carpet
A yard from the door,
Dark orange of a shade
I once used to adore.

I’ve bleached and soaked the relentless spot
Till my hands and knees bit,
I’ve covered it with rugs,
But my mind still wont remit.

Curse the careless way I ate that fruit!
I cry into the smudge.
Each time I walk inside,
This brand relights my grudge.

Maybe over time I’ll learn to note it less,
A spark more than a fire.
Till then I guess I stare,
At this mandarin expired.

The beating in my heart won’t stop.
I tell people it beats too fast. They don’t believe me.
This rhythm reminds me of my time.
Each thump a tick. A tick off my clock.
And sometimes. Sometimes that sickens me.
I want to dig my fingernails into my chest. To separate the atoms forming my skin. To split it apart
Reach deep within my chest and grab my beating heart. With my own two hands.
I will tell you the memories we had. The times I cried. The times I was scared. And the times you lacked to beat when I thought I met the person.
I will cry to my heart.
Why?
Why did you choose my lifeless body? I surely didn’t look that helpless.
Did I?
I will then scream.
I’m angry. I’m furious at you. Why weren’t you just there for me?
I was alone and you were the only one who was there.
So why?
I can feel my heart beating in my hands and it sickens me.
I want to throw up.
My hands grip my heart. I want to stop this beating, this ticking.
So I do.
I crush it. I crush you with my hands until the beating stops.
Until I am just a lifeless body once again.

For seven months I drank my tea at the window and allowed the sun to cast its rays over my resolution.
I gazed at the space between but never directly into my neighbours house
for I knew the indifference that awaited me in her window of enmity.
During the seventh month my love swelled and pooled at my fingertips, restless with those un-penned words of indignation,
And so I gazed into her window.
Bleeding from my freshest wound,
just rage unfurled into bitter poems,
reruns of us,
of when you offered the belly of my dignity to feed your enemies, revealed a vengeance owed to me,
not of retribution
but of justice.
During the eighth month I wrestled love and grief, rage and memory,
to save you,
to save you from the recklessness my pain threatened to uncage.
I allowed the waves of your betrayal to break over me and pull me back into the sea of childlike grace within myself.
I did not emerge cleansed, pure, or resolved.
Victorious over my animal lust for vengeance,
yet unsatiated in surrendering my desire to deliver you to the same gallows where you made a pariah of me.
And conflicted with answerless questions.
Is vengeance the natural harbinger of karma and therefore my gentleness; justice interrupted?
Is my enduring love my weakness or my courage?
.

I saw that text one night.
I read every line over and over again
I can’t believe you said that
I thought of the best way to respond
I was honest with you
Though my message was shorter,
I meant every word
Once it sent,
I blocked you
On everything.
You wanted nothing to do with me
Why should you know about me?

I heard what you told our friends one day.
I was told over and over again
I can't believe you said that
You wanted me to be scared
You wanted me to change
You cried to them saying that’s what you wanted to happen
Life isn’t fair
I meant every word
We were done.
There was nothing you could do

I know about the things you said about me.
You repeated them over and over again
I knew what you were going to do
You tried to paint me the bad guy
Make the fallout seem like my fault
What happened to you saying you would **** yourself without me?
How come saying you were done with me painted me as the terminator?
Life isn't fair
You should know that by now
Actions have consequences
If you didn’t want me to leave,
You shouldn’t have reacted the way you did

You apparently told someone what you were going to send before you did
You told my friend since preschool
They sided with you
I’ve known them my whole life
They’ve known you for not even two years
Life isn’t fair
I should know that by now
But it still hurt

I saw that text one night.
And I hate to admit it,
But I cried

Where's there's dreams,
there's always disbelief,
clouds of silver lining
coins tossed in fountains,
ages covered in grazing,
wishing for lover lazing,
blinded as such to poison,
sprayed on every flower.

Lit up is the exit sign &
evil the twin that binds,
and for love we give a sigh
wishing moments to rewind.

A wish to do it differently,
comes across all too frequently,
Does the diamond ring sparkle
worth divorce & note hackles?

I'll tell you all a story,
of my past glories
My dad was proud
but look at him, now.
Don't believe the wishbone,
standing under the mistletoe,
Dreams will come crashing,
and the blood stops rushing.