Miserably, I'll cling to the fading moments
I spent with you in my bed.
Fed up with things ending too early, I'll constantly
be fending for those soft touches and empty hushes.

Empty.
What a word to describe how I feel knowing you'll
be gone by Sunday, without waiting for me to heal.
Monday will come and my heart will shudder.
Flutters, that soft, delectable feeling that I felt in my stomach
will drop and stop, halting all pleasantries.

Finish
me off with one last kiss,
Make me miss
you until I fade from the confusion.
The pollution
that you have caused to build up in my chest
Best be worth the final touches you caress
onto my skin.

Sin-fully,
I'll compare your clear brown gaze to the
murky lust, dirtied by others.
I wonder if you ever had any room under your covers.
I wonder if I ever had any pull on you, ever.

Never,
Ever
will I ever want to weather that weather-y storm you've
measured with buckets of rain
painfully, locking onto my chest
glued to my teeth
Mistaken.
Misled.
My soul feels erasably unfed.

I bled.
I bled. I ******* bled when you held me in my bed
and the words of your utter denial
Cried out between us, causing a separation
I wanted nothing to be with.

God, just three weeks. That's it.
Three weeks, peaking my emotions to their
utter, serene, intoxicating HIGH.
My, what kind of magic have you poured
into my veins.
I didn't think you could ever be the cause of this much
Pain.

Wait.
I didn't want to be another one.
For me, I've always been the detached one.
The one with a dismissal attitude, a missile
of self-confidence and independence.

Impermanence was all you were ever offering.
While I always was offering you my everything.
Foolishly, albeit. Albiet, foolishly.
I'll be it. I will be it. I swear it. I'll be yours.
But **** it, you don't need it.

So?
Now what?

...

I'll go back inside and recreate
that tall, thick wall of utter
strength and unwavering singularity.
Single.
No more tingle in my bones, woe me.
Woe is me, all right.
Hope for me, that I can fight with all of my might.
If only I had the power to push you away
before it's too late, before I hate even a cell
of that specific date.
May. Thirteenth.

SUNDAY.

my dad died so gracious
he is dead
indeed

but I am not sure
if he was the one in that coffin
or it was his blood
that I saw on his silver bracelet
rust? it might be

without pain and without scars
and with a faceless shroud
he was elegant
indeed
but-dead?

so how come
a silver bracelet rust

and who was the one
in that coffin?

Fun at times,
I don’t own her,
yet she gives me those signs.

I play around,
knowing when her door is open,
yet I don’t make sounds.

Wish for more,
my mindset denies her,
yet I start a love hate war.

Standing across a room,
Looking around to find you.

I see you, I feel you, I think too much about you.

But you are blind.
Blind to my looks and glances.

You seem me, you feel me, but you don't think too much about me.

Skin on skin.
Hot flashes of flesh.
Too much to think, too much to feel.

I didn't ask for this,
But it's too good to be true.

Touch,
Feel,
Look,
Grab,
Bite me.

You may leave your mark on me,
But I am not yours.

Because there is no us.
And there will never be...
An "us".

Opened eyes that see so little
Cataracts of cynicism cloud your life
You preach about how you see reality
Yet you fall prey to your own illusion

Denied of a life of warmth and light
You bear the burden of your own grudge
Struggling with the pain
Baring your fangs to all who come near you

Pride that's shallow
It leads the way to solitude
Are your broken beliefs worth this much?
Has your anger tainted you beyond repair?

Strength that is a fraud
You stand tall with those blind eyes ablazed
That power of yours is nothing more than a lie to hide your pain