You step out into the world and its tendrils seek to entwine.
It takes away my hopes and all the dreams I once held as mine.

You are faced with expectations and choices so not of your own.
You come to think it not so bad when life is both empty and alone.

It becomes just easier to forget about hope and any form of dream.
Responsible to self and away from expectations endless scream.

You close the world outside behind your safeties solid door.
And give up on love and dream like clothes discarded on the floor.

You accept a life of little value and so too the feel it will never end.
All for reassurance outside consequence wont reach in to offend.

I write of being sad and lonely in many of the poems that I write.
But I am conscious, it is I who cast love and hope out into the night.

hand me that one—
To hold in hand,
whisper my heart
within its pores.
To share my whims:
dresses I wore
sometime long past.

I dare not peek
To peel its peel,
study the lines
upon its raw.
To see the same:
summers now soil
this time in palm.

You aren't entirely charmed to being whipped, if you don't take a moment to see what being merely "whipped" is even about. Showboating a charmed effect for something other than something else to "whip" itself back into shape! Lust! Ecstasy! All charmed effects without anything being whipped normally. When being whipped by a single charm defies ALL expectations for normal anticipations to fall prey to. Creating a very frustrating hypnotism functionality. Whilst also creating a very flustered trance that none can escape alone!

floating around
just realising i am the afterthought
not the initial
essential
first thing to hand
front of your mind
that is where ego resides
but why must i demand
to be there
the centre of it all?
i expect too highly
i expect that of myself
but to expect that of others
is cruel

Do you feel how broken we are ,
Both of us miserably broken .

Yet one is trying to hold the other ,
And the other is trying to figure out his own .

How unfair this love has become .
You just whispered to me you love me ,
And I've made you my soul .

I didn't want this kind of love .
Where you'll push me , stab me with silence everyday .
And whenever you want to love me you'll pull me closer .
But have you even realise every single behavior of yours was a slap on my face .

I could see where the cracks and how my love for you is seeping through my fingers.
I wish you were here to give me hand to hold that love .

You're were so much to me , how much was i for you ? Don't say .

I was knitting this beautiful love around you but when I look back i saw you unknotting .

I was giving effort and it bacame effortless to you .

I love so easily i just can't get over that easily .

I will never forgive you for loving me and making me feel unloved .

I will never forgive you thinking that I will get settled with someone else easily .

I will never forgive you for thinking that I will unlove you easily

I will never forgive you for thinking I will move on easily .

I will never forgive you for thinking that I can replace you with someone else .

I will forgive everything that hurt me , how loving you hurt me , i will forgive everything about you.  I just can't forgive your thinking .

I love you but I can't go back where respect does not dwell .

To whom do I belong?
To the cold morning
and the unrelenting pound of my feet,
to meet the waistband of my favorite pants.

To whom do I belong?
To the cries of the babe left momentarily alone
while I halt time in the motion of rushing water and clarifying peace
in being simply clean.

To whom do I belong?
To the man who comes home from a career
I gave up to care for others,
To the man who pours into me every need, secret, thought and dream without cease?
While I silently and forever support.

To whom do I belong?
To the child so afraid of the world after years of hurt
Best friend, Gilmore girl, dreamer with an uncertain expiry date.

To whom do I belong?
To the food raised,
The clothes mended,
The laundry flapping in the wind,
The music that surges through my thoughts and never ends
And is reluctantly reminded "later, later, later my friend".

To whom do I belong?
To the old man now dying, tended by many
Yet wanting wanting wanting the role of my beloved or child
While his wife and all push me to take what she has abandoned
To give of me the parts of her she won't share
Untangling from a blackberry bush full of webs.

To whom do I belong?