If only you
would reach for me

you the sky
I the tree

we are all reaching
for something

touching you
touching me.

Here I am
Writing to you
Writing to someone that will never respond
Talking to a brick wall
Yet here I am
Still making the attempt

What can I do?
Is there something I can do to change this dynamic,
It has been years.
Years since my heart last skipped.

What can I do to make it leap once more?
To feel again what it is like for you to look my way.
To feel again what it is like to be cared for.

So here I am,
Writing to you.
My lifeline being tossed out,
In hopes that you will come to rescue me.

I was bored, so was you,
We were sitting on the bench in the empty park, staring at the blue,
I was depressed, my life was over,
I told you my depression, my troubles, but all you did was said, "Go get a four-leaf clover."

You laughed, I didn't. It wasn't funny,
For you it was like the topic of money,
For me it was the topic of life,
But all you did was said, "I got a win in a game, high five."

I said nothing, there was nothing to say,
I wanted to go home, if yet may,
I wanted to leave you, leave the breath, leave the life,
You paid no attention. Before you had been my best friend. It was like I had been stabbed with a knife…

I stood up and said, "Take care."
All you did was said, "You're so dull. Don't stumble upon a hare."
I did a fake smile, knowing nothing is worth to live.
Lost everything. Friends, you, lost the power to believe…

All the love, all the tries,
Buzzed away into the air like flies.
How many times I had been deceived, broken, lost,
Nothing is worth now, not the cost…

The thoughts kept sailing, over and over.
My depressions atop my head did nothing but trouble me and hover,
The rain poured endlessly while I stared at nothing but the dark,
My mind kept saying, "Die with a growing spark."

I pulled out my pistol, in my hand,
I had no bullets, but they appeared as of magic hand,
I placed the weapon to my head,
I saw you grinning, "You were never my friend. You are worth nothing, but to be lifeless and dead."

I had no strength, I wanted to die,
I knew that my Mother had said a beautiful white lie;
"You will have a great life and will be full of joy."
To me love and friends are something that I can't explain the importance of, but the others I cared for used it like a toy…

I let my last sad tear drop,
And squeezed the trigger with no stop,
Right away my world faded, and I saw the dark, I saw a hand,
The Death appeared, holding out it's skeleton hand, "Welcome child, welcome to the end."

Welcome. I appeared in Hell,
Time for my pains and depressions  to fade away that I hid so well,
Nothing but dark. And then it slipped away and faided,
I appeared in the humongous void of space, leaving me lost and unaided,
Nothing mattered  now, only the darkness and the vastness of the dark pit-full space,
The tears, the shattered memories, the hatred, and the pain, washed away my oh-so hoping face……



-Mishka Wayz

Do you know what you do to me?

Quiet fury, hauntingly close.

Every time you say that word, you leave an imprint,

a naked brand scarring my skin.

Raised, sore, bleeding on to my hands.

Soon I’ll be covered in welts,

because I can’t always agree to your demands.


Frigid.

Why so frigid?


You are now my disease.

I carry you wrapped in bed sheets inside;

nestled deep inside;

you course through my bloodstream,

hot, boiling my blood;

Sending flushes of sweat flooding my skin,

as you try again to reach for something that’s not yours.

Waves of infection that I wait to succumb to, every time we

feel the need to be intimate, to have a semblance of normality,

when I know I’m not even close to sharing myself with you.


You’re not…affectionate, are you?

You barely do anything, you leave it all up to me to love you,

just do something in return, start something would you?


Do you even realise your foul play?

I can’t help but carry your marks and bare them for

each new soul that steps towards me,

lovingly, until they know what I seem incapable of.

I do love you.

I do want you.

But please realise the scars and wounds and battle remnants I harbour;

bruises that don’t disappear, stitches that don’t disappear, tender spots

and pain that doesn’t

disappear as you try and ****** your way in.

You can’t be a cure.


Stop. You are just so cold.

Are we ever going to be together if you can’t do this for me?


You roll over in bed.

I can feel the heavy burden of disappointment.

Your chilly reception of my arms

resting on your chest.

Almost like I’m the one causing you suffering. My touch gives you

flinches,

subtle twists of your body away from mine.

I feel so horribly naked before you. It isn’t pleasant anymore.

It isn’t beautiful anymore.

I do all this for you, I lie down at your feet

and surrender myself to this icy blizzard because

I’m trying to make you happy.

I’m trying to keep you satisfied. It’s always been the battle I rage with

myself,

warring and violent punishments when I fail to keep you here,

tucked beside me,

warm and safe beside me.


I’m so sorry there are times

I can’t show you just how much I need you here.


I’m not stoic; I flail and drown all on my own, without you,

Without your fecund roots to keep me grounded.

Without your whispers and nips and possession.

Without your lips on mine, without your push and pull;

Without your refuge I seek, to escape myself.


But don’t you ever name-call again.

Don’t you ever make me close up inside again.

Don’t make me retract my limbs and curl,

fold and bend down, into myself, because you are hurt.

Don’t you ever think I don’t feel, don’t think I don’t need pleasure as you

do.

Don’t ever think you always provide it the way

I need you to.

I’m the one who cries at night, howling at the things I still don’t

achieve for you.

I’m the one who feels that I don’t support your weight as you

do for mine.

I’m the one who drifts into sad reveries of the time to come;

The time I know will come when you flee and run from

my outstretched arms.


Frigid.

Frigid.


Get out. This will never be ok.

Stop sending that word ripping underneath

my skin. Don’t impale me on such a lie.

It’s tender. I can be so gentle but you only remind me

of brutality; dominating my strength so I don’t

know it’s there.

How is that right for you to say to me?

Do you know what you do to me?