~~♥~~

I used to think men
should be more like books
Both you cannot
judge by looks...

If I didn't want to finish reading
I put it down... no heart was bleeding

A book will never fuss or fight
It will stay with you
through the night...

It doesn't smoke. It doesn't drink.
It won't leave toothpaste
in the sink!

It doesn't binge... it don't eat...
It won't leave up the toilet seat!

It don't forget. It doesn't mope.
It won't hog the TV remote!

It doesn't have to have
The last say...
It doesn't have legs

to walk away.

But it's not soft. It isn't warm.
It doesn't keep you
safe from harm.

Even though it makes no fuss
It can't think. It can't discuss.

Even though it has its charms
it can't hold you in its arms.

It doesn't pine. It doesn't miss.
It can't hug and it can't kiss.

So now I think on it again...
... I think BOOKS should be
             more like MEN!!!


SoulSurvivor
2/20/2015

I do not like this phase of a heart break.

When you purposely avoid love songs,
Or sometimes you play them just to make yourself feel like your hearts still pounding.

When the person you loved and hid from every waking soul is brought into a conversation.
Or when he isn't.

When you see other lovers who have made it years without the cruel hand of fate ripping their love from them.
Or when you see they haven't.

When you notice him writing you smaller, casual messages when they use to be breathtaking and beautiful.
Or when he doesn't write at all.

When I ask you if I am pushing you away and you say no.

"Alright, happy birthday! Text me later tonight?"

"Will do"

When every hidden goodbye ends with those two words. And my broken, belittled heart.

(i. r.)

The icicles on her face
seemed to be embraced
by the welcoming arms of her beauty.
I always told her,
"Diana, you look good in anything."

There are crystals in her eyes.
- The tears that witnessed
our last I Love You's.
Now frozen
with her last breath.

Darling, I was never
a saint like you,
But as I freeze too in your arms,
I bet we'll say
I Love You again.

I died on a Sunday
A day of blessings,
peace. Eternal sleep
was interrupted by medicine.

It happens

When I woke,
I was surrounded by strange people
White suits and blue masks.
Needles in my arms
Sensors on my chest.

That must have done wonders for your anxiety

My...heart...simply...stopped.

As if it no longer wished to fill the pain
of a life half lived. Loves almost won

You can't "win" love

Fights never finished. Things never said.

What did you do?

I quit my job. I told the woman that I like
my feelings for her. Changed Apartments.

What did you really do?

I began living.

Freely

Then next time I die. I will not have regrets.

Yellow apples fall—
Memories of spring blossom,
Gentle deer arrive.

the din of proofed blood
faded

many nights ago

"i'ma part-time drunk
needa be half cocked
before sleep spreads her
arms and legs."

laying here, a cello rubs
low somber tunes
invisibly

my lovers thighs, her breath
her soft intoxicating flesh
gone

another muse toys in my
darkness, keeps the wheels
turning to the low somber
rub of an invisible cello