The chapters you live in are pages I visit often
The novel of my life is indexed by your name.
Dog eared, bookmarked, frayed at the edges
Memories I keep (re)turning to
Some shabbily hastily taped back
Ripped out in fury, the need to forget
All consuming
And yet
I put them back
Slowly
Deliberately
Smoothing out the wrinkles
Relishing the agony to remember
To cherish the love not too long ago
The roses you gave me
Pressed against these pages
sweetness wafting
pervading my senses
mingling with a whiff of your salty aftertaste
******* the pages like they conceal
fragments of you within their folds
forever on my bedside table and in my dreams
you reappear,
the protagonist of a story that never belonged to you.

if you're lucky enough
she will show you
the library she has for a brain
she'll show you the books
about the ones
who never took the time
to read her front to back
start to finish
she'll show you
the books she reads
over and over again
the ones she can never put down
and those she's too afraid to read again
and perhaps
she'll even let you
read the book
that's got a lock and key
sitting in the back
of her mind
collecting dust

•|||°

Why is poetry dying
when we still have the gift?
If we still have water
then we still have a ship.
We can sail to the places
these words take us.
We are still shaken
by the words that make us.
Why should we let poetry die
when there is so much to explore?
If only people read it
and discovered more.

It was in the shower i tried to picture you
With your shirt off your lips turned blue.
"I dont want you to see me cry" i said
And not from the pain between my legs, as I bled.
I try to picture romantic evenings as beautiful,
Ones that make my mind content and full,
But in the end these images rott
They stink of regret and the same shame that I fought.
There are dark secrets in my mind,
Some even darker, some hard to find.
But your unconditional love it made me blind,
I try to picture a night with you.
I know you picture this night with me too.
A night where these secrets dont stop me,
From your loving touches, I wont flea.
At least in these dreams I can do this
But in the real world its just a punch with a strong cold fist.
This cant heal as fast as a scraped knee,
But it does feel like an injury.
Please dont give up so quickly,
Because in the end its still me.
All bruised up and blue from my past,
Im trying so hard to make this last,
I know im selfish.
Know that if your patient i will get my wish,
And these pictured nights in the shower wont be so sad,
Theres a day in the future where your touch wont feel so bad.

no amount of friend requests
or followers i get
can replace the hole in my chest
of you not being one of them

no amount of makeup
to cover up my flaws
can make up for the fact
that you’ve already seen my worst

100 unread messages
but left on read
you’re the only one i text
and the only one who doesn’t text me back

And as effortlessly as that,
You had me cracked
You chipped away at my cold exterior
Dodging shards of ice until I was no longer hard
My frozen heart exposed to the warmth of your hands slowly melting away with the steady breeze of your breath
Incapsulated in the prison of your knuckles
Only for you to drop my heart in search of another
Another that’s slightly warmer
Slightly more hospitable
And slightly more lovable than I am.
I guess my coldness could freeze everything, except your love for me.