i hate sitting a foot away from you and
not being able to look at you.
i hate not talking to you,
but i think the constant closeness
is lonelier than the silence.
i hate being tortured like this,
tortured by the fact that you are right there,
so close that i could reach over and touch your sleeve
but i can't have you.
i know how ridiculous it is,
to want the one person
that just keeps breaking me,
but i won't lie and say
that i haven't grown use to the countless ways
you have made me hurt.
you have taken everything away from me.
my happiness,
my motivation,
my heart.
you even managed to take my mind hostage.
everything reminds me of you.
i can't listen to music or write or read or dream
without you running through my thoughts.
it's not like you ever really left in the first place,
but whose fault is that?
of course it's mine
since you apparently can't be blamed for anything.
at this point, my memories don't even belong to me anymore,
they're yours.
everything that you've ever been a part of
has been shut away in this box labeled
"her."
in a feeble attempt to erase you
from the recesses of my mind.
but erasing you means erasing parts of me
that i can't live without.

Like a clockwork's rhyme
they grow on him,
the soft moan of her heels.
Here she comes, they tell him
as they gently pry loose
of her tender feet.

A quiver is set into motion
like strings of a cello
consumed by touch
every time her voice breaks free
like a fugitive
from its own abode.

The visiting breeze crosses by
the slow hum
of her breathing,
and carries the gasps
in hurried echoes
to remind him she's checked in.

A mischief rolled into smile
escapes her lips
to touch a heart so shy,
only to leave it
and **** with pain
while making it a willing alibi.

away from the touch of salted caramel
my bones cut deep into the flesh of today
like all other tissue beneath the skin
is undressed from the whole
melting,
finding the only way
home
to you
vapor-cumulus-rain-skin
keeping my promise
to reach you again

When I say I want to touch you,  I don't mean the physical entity you're disguised as.
I want to touch the heart that beats the love out of you and in to me.
I want to touch the soul that is as broken and heavy as a cloudy sky.
I want to touch your sadness,  where the real you started forming.
I want to touch your mind so I can finally find the secretes to your thoughts.
I want to touch the rare moments when you finally laughed a heart filled laugh.
I want to touch your sight to understand how you explained all the books you tell me about.
I want to touch your blood so I can feel where all that poetry comes from.
I want to touch the essence of who you are so I can make us in to one person.

I just really want to touch you.

Her hands hold the knife
Her mind holds her hands
Her ego holds her mind
Her soul holds her will to live

The touch of her knife

Only now it resides deep in her wounds
Aching, she pulls on her life
Around her she watches all those concerned
Somehow she stays centred like the true Bull she is
Soon enough she will drop the knife

For her hands will get tired
For her mind will go crazy
For her ego will get bored
For her soul is stronger than them all

Drowning in voices
that sound like yours.
Touched by hands
that I wish were yours.
Crowded by memories
that remind me of you,
and surrounded by everyone
that isn't you.
It only makes me realize that
you are everywhere I see,
but nowhere where I want you to be.

Woven patches of grey,
hues slow in momentum.
Tattered gaps letting through
              gleams of radiance.

But in motion do the faults
get sewn in silver linings.
And this blanket  
             mesmerising below.

Then the lonely flower opens
       its petals, reaching towards
the patch work of loving greys
                 yearning for a touch.

A singular drop falls, taking its
                   time to meet below.
So far has it descended to gently
              caress her wilting petals.

Replenished dew drops hang from
                         now pristine colours.
It waves in the subtle breeze,
      swaying in a dance of gratitude.

I see you standing there
my beautiful friend,
I run to you,
you run to me,
but there's no reaching you,
the glass is separating us.

I scratch and scratch,
you do the same,
but the glass just won't break.
Tired I let my head sink,
I smile at you with tears in my eyes.
So close and yet so far.

I sink to the ground
and press my body against the glass.
I want to touch your skin,
I want to feel its warmth.

Each day i sleep at the glass,
I just dream it away.
I dream of reaching you,
of your body against mine.
I believe one day
my dream will come true.