There was a time where I relished his drunk touch.

The feeling on the dance floor,
Of his lips on mine,
His hands on my waist.

I felt power from his touch.
It affirmed what I wanted to feel-

I wanted to feel beautiful,
                            dangerous,
                             fierce.
I believed for a while that his drunk attention proved these things to be true.

Now I know differently.
Now that our drunk love has burned out,
I understand I am the only one who can make these things true.

I will no longer find power in drunk love.
I will find power in myself.

you don’t realize how much it hurts you when he
touches you for a moment and then begs for more
you say “no I don’t want to” and he pushes
(more) (more)
---says you are annoying and dramatic--
but you love him (so)
you grasp for straws you
gasp when he smiles and yet
your love is rotting and it is
filling your bones. All of the no no
I don’t want to” turns into
come back why are you leaving and then
you are clawing for air on the ground
calling your mom trying to tell her
how much you hurt without telling her why
because it might split her open
And that is the last thing you want to do.

There are vines on my hands.
                                                          ­       -They're creeping up my spine-
They're twisted and they share wicked smiles
                                                      And­ their smiles aren't meant for me.
I wrap them around my fingers
                                                        ­Their darkness appealing as death,
With poison made of ink.
                                                         ~~~

I weave in flowers,
                                                        ­             They're painted all in black
In the hopes of distracting from how I'm trapped.
                                                        ­                      But I like it that way;
They're small and pathetic.
                                                       ­                     They're a mess like me.
                                                         ~~~

But it's not just the vines.
                                                          ­       There are eyes on my skin too
My hands are covered in everything I can't say.
                                                            ­       They watch my every move.
You just have to get close enough to look -
                                                                ­              - Watch out; they bite
They're hidden in the vines.

      The vines on my hands.                         *The vines on my hands.

in those late, fragile hours
on those dark, desolate nights
my soul seems to wander the earth
searching for a heart that matches mine

if soulmates do exist
then it is true that my soul was cut in two;
Plato was not fallacious when he said the soul splits in two

once you caressed my hand in yours,
and our fingers intertwined
i knew that this was forever,
that we were forever,
when i saw my life in your eyes

Your softest nature elicits returns
With silver charms and gold tooth smiles,
And your love for fellow mankind burns,
Your existence free of turmoil and trials.
When people defend your ranks and reputes
And are willingly kind when speaking your name,
Your character fine in practice recruits
Alliances forged, animosities tamed.
No fist that is hidden within a velvet glove
Nor sleight or disdain so worthless and shotten,
And all is good and fair in love
And war is ever to be forgotten.

But see how soon your prized elation
Is made to fail and crash to Earth,
From super gliding elevation
To ditch go falling in scathing mirth.
And how you turn like the change of season,
You come, incognito, dark wings furled.
Tempestuous and wild without rhyme or reason,
Caught and lost between two worlds.
What difference in words of you now spoken
When you, your reputation embrown,
Your wings unfurled will soon be broken
And your saintly crown falls
Down
Down
Down

It's my pride
                        It's my cross
I hold to
                        to carry
it's my fruit
                          it's my loss
I see through
                                     to bury
with countless tries
                                     and, all-in-all
we fall to rise
                            we rise to fall

Honey, forget him.

Forget his smile,
Forget his deep voice, and the color of his eyes
Forget his name, his laughs
Forget his sweet words that masked his lies
Forget him he chucked you aside
when you need him at your lowest he didn’t come by
Forget him he said all the words that broke you
Forget all his “I love you too”
Forget him.

It's sad that the love we once shared is through.