I've had a lot of conversations with myself lately,
At night.
"Who told you to?"
"He made me tell myself."
"How do you know?"
"I don't."
Me, myself, I.
All different people
But all the same.
The contemptuous person behind this glass that I can't see because I'm desperately trying to see what I can't be.
I really want to know,
Who this person is I'm talking to.

"When the sound of his warm breath was not enough
to fill the emptiness in our conversations,
I knew it was over."

i didn't want to paint i just wanted to be great at something so i unghosted my soul, told her to go pick 6 roses out of the garden of my love for the mountains & i pierced my nose w a silver needle that was so sharp i could hear your velvet voice again & it call came back to me in little waves of blue pain and sunflower energy on lined sheets of paper sort of like this one with an orange accent I had to find in Rome behind motorcycles & burnt coffee w out the bitter memory of sugar cookies, only the ones we ate on long weekends by the beach beside the ways in which the sun told us the stories of sunken ships & waves the moon wanted to create at 2:11am on the least windiest days. i didnt bring my brushes w me, but a skateboard and a glass house were enough for a disappearing act & 3 conversations w a wall and spray paint can

Conversations can occur in many ways.
Many the conception of one thing, used to justify another.
It tends to happen more commonly if not at all.
A certain honesty revealed.
In the consideration of intimacy
Without coming across as too overbearing.
Yet we place blame on ourselves for not revealing how we truly feel,
Sometimes trapping ourself in the thought of someone else's happiness.
Obvious truths overlooked when the normal reaction is the total opposite.
The latter, already knowing how we'd like to be valued, received.
We express ourselves the same way.
Not truly knowing how it's to be received.
Obvious truths automatically assumed when true intention is revealed.
Instead we seek validation through a smile, a laugh.
Part of ourself hidden.
A habit of not wanting to project what we feel we lack.
Overvalued on whether or not happiness is then assumed,
Instead of saying how we truly feel.
We normally put ourselves on hold.
Fearing that our mouths may differ in opinion,
that how we truly feel.
May not be what the other person expects, or wants to hear.
Further putting ourselves at confrontation with what we truly feel.
Not truly knowing the risk that comes with how much we truly love
And how much sacrifice is required.
How often we express our likes and dislikes
How often do they go ignored
Yet we place blame on ourselves for not revealing how we truly feel

you talk so much
and
I like to watch you talk
about the things you like
things you don't like;
but the way you
talk about me
to me
makes me feel
whole again.

R.M.

who do i talk to at 2:17 in the morning?
my mom?
my dad?
my brother?
my sister?
her girlfriend?
my good friends?
the moon?

don't talk.

listen.

slowly you'll hear a faint sound.
it'll gradually become louder and clear.
you'll hear yourself begging and crying for you
to listen
then
you'll understand. or not.

-Internal conversations

-D.L.