The moment when
you stopped saying
"I love you"
is the moment when
I stopped sleeping.

And I've never been this sleepless before.

He collapses onto me
After we make love
My legs loosely wrapped around his waist
My arms pressed on his back
He feels so small
So precious so vulnerable
Like I could fold him up so tightly
This person doesn’t feel like the same person
Who grabs the flashlights and makes sure there are no ghosts
That the noise was just the house
Or an animal outside
That goes first down dark streets
But holds me close so that I don’t get hurt
But sometimes I do see this person
When he falls down rabbit holes
All day of news articles and videos
He will lay in bed
So still
It is like I can feel the heavy weight on his chest
That is slowly squeezing out tears
That slide down his face
I catch them on my fingers
There is a part of his life
I will never fully understand
How it feels to be a first generation immigrant
In a country that makes you feel unwelcome
I feel tense with his fear
That he chose the wrong country
That he might have to leave
And go back to a country that is on the verge of collapse
When I am laying in bed with him
I can’t explain the feeling
Of wanting to protect and love someone
Will all that you have
To make them the happiest you possibly can
To make yourself a source of home
For the person you love more than anyone else in the world

Pen in our hands,
Mind of devotion,
Heart of gold,
The stories are at constant peak,
This relationship is cemented.
Will we continue to write
or let our insecurities write for us?

It's about a couple who are afraid to continue living in the face of reality slowly tearing them apart.

Does one simply adjust to happiness or does it fade away in time? Can one ever be truly satisfied? What is contentment if not love? What is love if not fickle? Will this love fade in time? I hope not, for I'm finally happy.

Jacob Aug 6

My heart aches on a depressing state
Can't face these lonely nights, I keep staying out way too late
In need of good hands, where the hell are all of my mates?
A stronger heart is just the thing that I lack
I go and start up the engine but I keep hesitating if I should come back
I told myself to do it but now I'm 2 years too late
I'm at a dead end road in life and I can feel the weight
Chasing a so called vision and I don't know where it goes
They say the highway to happiness can be the loneliest road
You know I'm doing the best that I can
Talking about this, doesn't mean you'll ever understand
It's pathetic that my heart is still calling for a girl
Who has got a better man
And yet she told me not to fall for her
But I did so anyways
She told me not to wait for her
But she crossed my mind so I thought of her today
Lately I've been writing these things that I shouldn't say
And I've been feeling the things that I shouldn't feel
But if don't let her know, would all of this be even real?

I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.

Darling,
the world is on fire.

We are Jack and Rose
and the inevitable destruction of our world,
perhaps this, is our iceberg.

And it’s just like the scene in the movie,
(Oh love, you know the one)
Jack puts Rose on the life boat
because he wants to save her –
Rose leaps back onto a sinking ship
because she cannot be saved without him.

This is not a movie,
but there is a pit in my stomach
and whether I am to fight or fly
I do not know but,
I do know I want to be with you.
You jump, I jump.
You fall, I fall.
We are only safe as one.

Darling,
please
do not leave me in this world alone –

Look,
it comes this way.

I look out
on the Parisian street.

Sonya is in the shower
showering away
our sex juices.  

It's a fresh morning
I can smell life
and Sonya's scent
which occupies
the hotel room.

We are going
to  the Louvre today
see some art
eat in some cafe
and drink
in a few bars
then back here
for more sex.

Sounds like a good day
traffic passes below
people going about
their business.

A pretty woman
goes past
neat legs
swaying ass
dark hair flowing
as she walks.

Some French man
talks on the radio.

I look back
at the rumpled bed
a battlefield of pleasure.

My stomach rumbles
with hunger
we'll go to
some cafe nearby
have breakfast
and coffee
and listen
to the music
that oozes
from speakers.

Sonya comes out
of the shower
wrapped in
a big white towel.

I wish
I was that towel
wrapped about her
touching the intimate
parts of her.

Your turn now
she says
and don't be long.

I nod
and take my towel
and go into
the shower room.

She sings softly
some French song.

A COUPLE IN PARIS 1973

I drank too much wine
the evening before
trying to chat up
one of the Serbian
waitresses
in the restaurant
at the hotel.

The morning came
and I was out of salts.

Serves you right
Abela said
chatting up that girl
she only understands
enough English
to get the orders
and say thank you
and such.

Not so loud
I said
my head is fragile.

Abela was unsmiling
I'd slept on the sofa
while she slept
in the big bed.

I just couldn't face
being in bed with her
feeling as I did.

You missed
great sex
last night
she said
I could have made it
a twosome.

Sorry about that
I mumbled.

I'm going
on the tour
you can stay here
she said moodily.

Sure enjoy
I said.

Someone
was  drumming
inside my head.

She looked at me
then came and kissed
my forehead.

Hope you feel better
when I am back
she said
and looking at herself
in the dressing table mirror
went out the door
and closed it
with a click.

I lay there
on the sofa
feeling a big yuk
and sick.

A COUPLE ON HOLIDAY IN YUGOSLAVIA IN 1972

love is a big word.for only four letters.it can mean so much to someone.or nothing at all.are you the one i wana call late at night​.or are you the one i need to stay away from.i don't know if it's true love.yet you make me feel special.all i want is you.but i'm scared.scared of heartbreak.

Co-author
Hannah De Jager (@AnonymousMouse)
Terry Collett Jul 31

Morning light through
wide window(bars on
the outside to keep
the patients in).

Yiska there watching
dawn's light, cigarette
between lips, smoke
tumbling against glass
as she exhaled.

Benny stood beside her,
watching the start of snow,
smelling her scent.

Their world and our world,
she said, dark corridors
of depression within, rooms
of bad memories.

Benny listened; he knew
what she meant, that world
and their world side by side,
fingertips on the ledge of sanity.

Outside the twirling snow.

His hand touches hers,
warm and small and then
the demons call.

A couple in a psychic ward.
Next page