We stood there
As steady as willows
The wind howling
And tears streaming
You confessing
You kissed him
My heart breaking
His lips caressing
Your rose petals
Some hard as a rock ****
His body better suited
At shielding yours
From the tormenting stares
Of disbelieving onlookers
And all was silent
Except for the cracking
Splintering of my heart
Like a hundred year old oak
Fighting its last storm.
And so I ask you
Is his hands better suited
At caressing
Tressing your hair?
Is his body better suited
To form to yours at night,
When the storm bellows
And you can't hide?
Is his lips better suited
To kiss yours goodbye
As sweet as sunshine
Promising better when
The morning comes
And those same lips
That kissed your betrayal
The night before
Return with a love anew?
Tell me, is his name
As sweet-sounding
As mine was
When he says he loves you
And you return it,
Making the statement his
Repeating his name
Again and again and again
Until it becomes tattooed on your tongue?
Tell me this,
And I'll disappear
Just like the storms you hid from
Each night
I held you closer
And I'll disappear
When the sun arrives
When he arrives
And there will be storms no more.

my smile was tainted
until you came along
face didn't need to be painted
you told me how naturally beautiful I am, covering it seemed wrong

I do anything for a little bit of her attention
She’s become so distant, losing all connection
I haven’t heard the soothing excitement in her voice in months
Instead “I can’t right now” is her favorite response

It’s always been bad, but my god, has it gotten worse
She’d tell you that her life has been cursed
While she locks herself away in a bedroom that surrounds of hoard
Walls filled to the brim of things that she can’t afford

She’s so unhappy and yet, convinced that items will bring her happiness
While she clings to memories that weigh her heart of heaviness
Holding on to what life use to be before her parents passed away
Forgetting that she still has children that need her in their life to this day

Sometimes I wonder if she’ll be able to pull through
When I decide to exchange my I do’s
As of seeing my first home, she had to postpone
But above all else, one day, I’ll have children of my own
And I hope you’ll show and be there to watch them grow

Mom, I’m not asking for perfection
But sometimes I’m not sure where you’ve gone
And it’s just been so long…
That I’d do anything for a little bit of your attention

I'm choking on my words and they swallow like bile,
like acid burns all the way down into my abdomen.
I have to say goodbye,
push you away because I am no good, I am broken and bruised,
an over ripe fruit who is only worth the compost she can become.
I don't want to, the words haven't left my throat and I already miss what we had,
I feel the gap in my chest like open wound,
like empty airless space has entered the void of me.
Not even its stars can warm what is left of me.

I am sorry.
I don't know how else to say this.
I am so sorry that you ever felt the burden of loving a wreck like me.
For a time I believed I could have been more than this,
that maybe I had phenix bones and I could make worth in the ashes of this. All I got was burning.
In the hardest way I learned that I am human and nothing more can come from this.
In part I blame you.
You made me - make me - feel as though there is more to this than the story I am reading.
The problem here is that I have always been bad at context clues and the words are beginning to fade wth age anyway.
Its immoral to blame you for my humanity but it hurts more if I acknowledge that you are better than anything I will ever deserve.


If it hurts less I want you to hate me. Hate everything I allow myself to become when I take on the monster in my mind.
Know that none of that means I will learn to not love you.
I just can't be strong enough in that love to be present when it all falls apart around me.
You should keep the happy memories, never learn the skeletons that haunt the empty walls of this closet heart.

Some say that love is an ardent thing;
That its sentiments,
When elucidated by words
Or art
Or something physical,
Are afire in their altruisms, but I
Know love as something fading.
But it seems different with you.
I am over-zealous,
Unconvincing,
Perhaps unenticing,
But I will not lay,
Dismantled in my existence,
And let the gaps between my fingers
Be filled with air,
And they will wait to be inundated
By your gnarled hands.

And though your touch could
Set me afire in a most illustrious way,
*I will not open myself up this way again.