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Oh you’re back.
How was the trip?
Wait you need to do what?
You can’t right now though..
Really?.. that bad.
Well then.. okay. Guess it’s your turn.

Hi nice to meet you, we’ll get to names later.
She almost did it.
God you should’ve seen it.
But that’s done and over with.
No more you after all.
I’ve held her ground. I picked up the pieces. I saw her sink.
But I’ve seen her pick herself up. I watched her clean her mess. I saw her rise.
She thinks she needs someone and she truly doesn’t.
That’s why she has me.
Oh and I’m not good with names.. see ya.
Jay M Aug 2019
"Time stands still"
Never true
But still
When I am with you
Gazing your way
Time seems to slow
Then, suddenly
You turn
I catch you looking
Gazing at me...
Even so
It's probably not the way
That I do
But still
I hope...

- Jay M
August 29th, 2019
Hanged  between two choices
Either to forgive or to forget,
Hanged  between two  dreams
Either to forgive or to forget
between logos and pathos
between heart and head
I wander if I can forgive
I wander if you forget
Love is a fig!
Not sure how I'm feeling
Coping and dealing
Roping and reeling
In need of serious healing
Eva B Apr 6
If I have to throw my body into mesh
again, I am going to scream the hollowed
vibration of rage for all to hear.

I didn’t choose to prefer daffodils
over lilies. Yet now after now I am
shamed. Picking leaf after leaf in this
field of flowers, no one seems to love me
Split Mar 30
Could you be my pen?
Bleed out words to help me mend?

Or possibly grow as a tree
Produce oxygen to set me free?

Then perhaps become my savior,
Tear down your walls to create paper?

Allow my thoughts to soak
But only if you never smoke.

For my words turn into fuel,
Actually, all of this is much too cruel.
This one was REALLY fun to write!!! Inspired by the fact that loved ones are humans too.
Split Nov 2019
When will pulse increase
out of excitement
rather than fear?

regretful hearts
signal a cry.

Tears slip down
onto our heals,
feet no longer
cling to soil.

left the brain
to rot and boil.

have no grit
have no might

do as you're told
don't question molds.

oh how these days of symmetry
lack any sort of tranquility.

for now, our bodies mimic
palpitations of so-called workaholics.

actions contradicting
wishful tendencies

each obedient second
portraying societies' needle.

lackluster blood entering veins
infecting what once kept organs aflow.

in reach of hearts
it may not pump

but within our souls,
we grasp control.
Split Mar 27
I feel myself letting go of what was craved for months.
Old thoughts remind me of why I used to want him.
But they've grown into habits rather than wishful yearns.

Eyes turn glossy as old pain is read.
Dried tears creep above pores,
begging not to go to waste.
Chest spins inside out
as I wonder why the good
deceivingly outweighed the bad.

Our past became habits of memory,
memories that should be treasured
for what they were,
not for what could be once more.

Who knew a name creates affliction?
Not because of what is felt
but lack there of feeling.

Perhaps this is the start
of letting go.
Split Mar 27
As the monitor beeped
your heart beat no more.
I held your hands,
felt you go.

What your soul once inhabited
turned pale cold.
Hands that held me in my youth
became skin and bones,
no final warmth to heal my core.

You were a gift sent from above,
why did I never think you'd go back up?

As pressure rose in my chest,
and blinding tears raced towards my heart,
I fully understood how we could impact others.

By the time you met me, your life already seemed complete.
Goals and success now stories you could tell.
Selflessly, your wisdom was passed down to many,
including myself.

And although I represent
a small percentage of your life,
you make up over half of mine.

To this day it feels unreal.
So many things I wish to share
but now your home reads "for sale".

Every day you cross my mind,
every night I pray to God,
pray for heaven to be real.

I'm well aware you still live on
within those you touched with love.

But it's not the same.

In heaven your spirit rightfully soars,
therefore my life must be grand,
grand enough to reach the skies.
Then perhaps I'll see you forevermore.
Split Mar 29
Back in 2nd grade
a girl told me
that my crush
thought I was fat.

On that day
my mother held me
as I cried.
On that day,
I became fat.

In 4th grade,
I overate
to cope with trauma.

In 5th grade,
I looked in the mirror
and felt old words
pound in my brain.

my mother told me to **** in,
I was only in 6th grade.

On that summer,
I began to play tennis.
I was told I could be great,
If I lost some weight.

In 7th grade,
a boy told me
I was chubby.

At 12 years old
Eating stressed me out
but eating was how I dealt with stress.

Now at 17,
I call BS.

I was nowhere near fat.
When I was chubby,
I had the right.
I almost lost my mother,
weight is what was gained.

My peers,
along with those who cared,
rewired me to hate myself,
while begging
me to love myself.

By age 13,
changing rooms brought panic,
snacks brought guilt,
whilst mirrors screamed
hateful thoughts.

But now I know the truth.

Words matter.
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