#missedconnection
I was captivated,
Mesmerized by her beauty on this Bronx bound 5 train.
I drowned in her green eyes and did not care to breathe.
Her ***** blonde, bordering brunette hair waved perfectly.
Everything about her was beautiful.
To say I was nervous would be an understatement.
I didn't dare to tell her how radiant she looked.
Another missed connection on a subway line heading uptown.
Hopefully I will see her at Wall Street again.
It isn't likely, but I would like to redeem myself.
Or at least say , "Good morning."
Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 8:54 PM UTC
man seeking woman. man seeking what never was. man seeking a face he recognized in the crowd.
i was him. you were reaching out and i flinched. you offered, you vivisected yourself to prove devotion and bled—you didn't understand why i was bandaging and not climbing into your open heart. the crowd dispersed from the pews and i learned to love in bloodletting. we were bleeding for three years, taking our turns to patch and open wounds.
anemic on idolatry, we bled on the altar we built. sacrificial lambs unto ourselves—at some point the ritual is more important than the outcome. you always tell me you're dying for my sins but i always seem to end up on the cross.
man seeking the belief. man seeking the almost. man seeking the stability of a wound that never heals. man seeking what could've been, man seeking to reach out and grab hold and find warmth in skin instead of sacrifice.
May 12, 2021
May 12, 2021 at 1:08 AM UTC
In the soft glow of your sorrow,
where the sun fades, and shadows follow,
I see the tender ache in your verse,
each line a whisper, a silent curse.
“Seems Endless,” you write, and the moon listens,
reflecting the tears that your soul glistens.
In the night’s embrace, you break, you bend,
hoping the darkness would never end.
In Missed Connection, your heart speaks loud,
a love lost, yet covered by a shroud.
“I would trade my life for another day,”
for a smile that once chased your clouds away.
Guilt weighs heavy in your heart’s core,
a stain that no tears can restore.
But your words are rich, like wine aged deep,
capturing the pain that makes us weep.
In The Cost, you share the price of love,
how dreams shatter, pushed and shoved.
Yet in your heart, you still hope, still give,
for in your sorrow, we all learn to live.
You say it’s Too Late to turn back time,
yet in your regret, there’s beauty sublime.
To let go of love, to feel that sting,
a silent price that time cannot bring.
Love’s Altruism, you so plainly say,
is not in promises, but in the day-to-day.
To give with no return, to let love flow,
a lesson in grace that we all should know.
Jess, in every word you breathe,
there’s a truth that we all believe.
Your pain is poetry, your sorrow a song,
in the melody of life where we all belong.
Mar 3, 2025
Mar 3, 2025 at 1:44 AM UTC
__Mr, Mr__ —
I heard you said you’re a bad kisser,
maybe cause your lips never learned
what love you're supposed to go after.
You freeze mid-moment like you’re scared
she’ll see the ghosts you keep behind
your awkward laugher
__Mr, Mr__ —
She could have bought you a Ford
just for you to focus— keep pushing
forward, but my mind kept on stalling,
I think she changed her hair once —
soft brown to the color of her healing —
but **** I never noticed.
__Mr, Mr__ —
She said she was waiting for me to kiss
her first, but **** I never noticed.
It’s my fault — I was raised to be cautious,
I was taught love was something you approach
like a stray dog, slow and quiet, hand out first,
hoping it doesn’t chew out your emotions.
__Mr, Mr__ —
No I’m not her Mr — just the man
who never moved, never noticed,
and never said stay. Just her bad kisser.
Oct 27, 2025
Oct 27, 2025 at 2:50 AM UTC