#confiding
I'm not going to rant to you
as you may not understand
You have always said
promised to me, over and over again
that you will be there to talk to
if i ever dare feel the need
In a moment of weakness
i try to use the words
that i know you will not understand
english is a harsh language
With hard, stiff, stone letters
Sharp words
Blunt
The tough, callused hand
better at beating you down
Than helping you up
Other languages
A way to comfort you in a relation
a way to turn these stiff ways of the tounge
to silk and fresh water
to something
easily, gentally, softly felt
As smooth as a cold, gliding glacier's stream
English is the langague
for facts, explanations
plain, blunt topics
It's hard to have words for feelings
Emotions
ways of the heart
But other lanauges don't have words for such things
They have words, phrases, exchanges, dialects, customs
for moments
for memories
for dreams, almost out of reach
So when I try to explain to you
What i am going through
behind the "I'm fine."
"You know what I mean?"
"Uh, not really"
Well ****
Now you know the thoughts inside my head
Twisted by your interpritaion
your intake
of me
Sep 12, 2019
Sep 12, 2019 at 12:37 PM UTC
Pull the sheets up;
Let's hide under them.
No one can find us here.
Sure, no one is looking, either.
But I want to be with you, no distractions.
Take my hand in yours,
Can you hear my heart racing?
Can you tell my soul is aching?
I want to let it go.
I wanted to let you know,
Because I'd never let it show.
Would you stay with me, after the fact?
Could I share with you the truths of my past?
I don't want what we have to be ruined by that.
I don't want what we have to be ruined by anything.
Is it better I keep my secrets hidden,
That I keep inside where I hurt?
Or do you wish to lick my wounds.
Can I be myself with you,
Or only a percentage..
Jul 3, 2019
Jul 3, 2019 at 9:12 PM UTC
The fire building inside
Should cause an alarm
But no one sees
Nor feels the heat
It rises and grows
As no one listens
Then finally you'll hear
There she blows
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 12:29 AM UTC
You told me in a hushed voice
That you are actually a very insecure person
And I agreed a little too quickly
A little too much in the know.
It doesn't help
That you whispered it to me
That you seemed terrified of what I would say
You paint me a picture
And find yourself amazed that I know the artist.
But I caught you red handed
With the brush
Still between your shaking fingers.
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 12:41 PM UTC
The night and I are best friends.
Our darkness coincides
and I find myself confiding in the moon
more than I ever did with anyone else.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 9:46 PM UTC
I speak to the trees about my qualms; knowing they will keep them rooted and hidden from the world above.
I cry with the rain about my dysphoria; so that it's curved drops might cleanse me and wash away any anguish.
I whisper to the burning fire about my desires; so that they may ignite and transform into something unquenchable.
I confide in the wind about my loneliness; so that it might blow someone onto my path so that I would be given a reply to all the things the trees, rain, fire, and wind have heard but could never give me an answer.
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 3:19 PM UTC