Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The sound of a leaky faucet,
What, one may find annoying,
I find calming,
The pitter patter of rain on the roof,
The smell of oatmeal stuff,
The scratching of nails on the floor,
The sound of a sweet old dog snoring,
The sound of a pencil scratching on paper,
When the wind hits the house just right   to make a calm wheezing whistle sound,
The creaking of old stairs,
Soft music echoing down the hall,
Drip,
Drip,
Drip,
Of a leaky faucet...

I want to write something.
I want to feel the words dripping from my fingers
like they are a faucet of poetry.
I want to feel all the similes and metaphors
run through my veins.
I want to write something.

Every day I burn
In a shower of flame
One day I may learn
This hot water faucet game

The dripping echoes throughout the house
I am a broken faucet that screams
The water thrashes against the metal sink like a thunderstorm
Do not fix me
Do not call a plumber
I want to be heard

your love is toxic

my lungs collapsing

beneath the weight of such ugly feelings

so much like a rock

abrasive and heavy

are the words that spill from your mouth

like a faucet of filth

the pressure building

bright red blossoms

like a blow to the face

drip...
      drip...
             drip...
a leaky faucet that someone didn't quite finish closing off
a cry for help when the ties of the rope aren't tight enough to hold your weight in lies and sadness.
so a slow drip will suffice
but you'll wish to expedite this pain by drowning yourself
but someone didn't quite finish closing you off
so you'll die
drop by drop.

and you used to love the water
the way it was refreshing and cleansing
and reminded you of the feelings we had
I left you on edge
I left you unhinged
I left you not quite closed off

I left you loose and you still poured out for me
I left you with hope and you drip on...

In deep honesty,
I know that you keep to yourself.
That no one really knows you except the few you deem worthy.
How I envy their knowledge of you.
Those hidden idiosyncrasies that reveal the secrets to how you smile so big.
I wait another day, seeing your face in reflection.
Reaching out to touch you. Risking the chance that you'll disappear before my hand touches your shoulder.
How I envy their knowledge of you.
Believing the impossible.
A steady faucet that spews with the press of a lever.
I decided to stand still, realizing that I was standing on the wrong side of the sink.
Left dry, hearing only the sound of your laughter.
How I envy their knowledge, knowing exactly where to stand when you rain affection.
The taste of ****** food, left stained. Not much room to move.
Collected in an empty sink.
The clatter of spoons, forks, butter knives, and plates without so much as a cup.
I must admit. I envy their knowledge of you as I am left here stale, without cause.
Seeking you to cleanse me in purpose