the right thing to do
the right thing to say
a hand to reach out to
a heart promises to stay

I crave bitter things when I’ve not eaten
Like how water tastes perfect when you’ve an angry thirst
But it’s really normal
Fundamental
And nothing more than necessary
Like breathing after swimming the whole length underwater
Well I’ve not eaten yet today
It’s the way I feel most like a bad person
Crave the devil for punishment
Find comfort there instead of in a willing peace
I’ve always been a reckless wanderlust
Nothing’s ever easy
Because I make sure of it
And if it’s offering I make sure to decline
If you want my love I’ll be sure to keep it
Just out of spite
All to myself
If you want me to do well
I’ll fail just on principle
Control
Chaos
All a servant of my choice
I’ll choose you
The bitter food
Deliberately starved as I am

If you ask me how my mind works,

I would have no words to define
No poems that can describe
You would have to step inside

My mind is a maze.
Guided by maps of conversations
Lost between walls of questionmarks

If you ask me how my mind works,

I would invite you in.
But there's no guarantee you'll find your way out.
Bon voyage.

On one hand,
You're seeping in
To the most delicate
And untouched parts of my soul,

On the other,
My organs inside
Are like dry rough bark
Anyone who comes near
Is sent away with scratches on their heart,

I want to feel my whole insides become wet,
capable of unconditional love,
But I fear myself.

Many men have tried
to roll like sweet honey into my heart

Once my drunkeness has worn off
Or the initial thrill has dimmed
I scrape them off like a bug from my shoe.

When you look at me it is different,
When you look,
I can feel you seeing inside my soul in a way I can't hide,
Still I try.

I have no abandonment issues,
Or low self esteem,

I am just truly and simply a bird
When I see a cage
I become concerned.

Love is but a rose,
Beautiful for a moment. then wilted in the next.

Love comes like lightning,
then leaves just as quick.

Love is reachable,
yet seems so out of reach.

Love is like the ultimate goal,
that can never be substantial.

Love is obscene.

The simple whisper of the word "commitment"
can make men and women run in an instant
without one look back at the broken pieces they've left,
you were no different and so my heart became your theft.

You repeatedly vociferate that you're not ready to settle down; not ready to grow up,
but in my heart I know you're lying to my face close up.
I know you'd settle if you found the ideal inamorata tomorrow,
but I'll never be "the one" for you so I will leave now and drown in sorrow.