She felt my thirst.
Grabbing my legs lifting me in the air.
I had no idea what was about to happen.
The plastic removed from my face, the breath of life.
I felt comfort in her hands.
The places that were cold were no longer.
I've never felt a warmth like the one she provided.
The softness of her hands.
The way I sunk into her eyes.
For the first time I felt special.
Like my voice could finally be heard.
My thirst forever quenched.
Head driven first into a glass of milk.
I drunk until my head swelled.
Her hand never leaving my side.
Although I drunk my body remained slim.
No matter how self conscious I felt she reassured she would always smile.
I swirled in emotion, an eternal need that would forever be purpose

I don't care to admit
that I was stuck between
my dreams and reality
something between a haze and insanity.
So listen well,
to this story of my heart.
But where, oh where
Do I start?

From the beginning I suppose
would be best
to tell you a story of a young man's quest.
See, when I was younger, the prime of my youth
I was in search of something
something akin to the truth.

Of what it would have been like
to be accepted as a person again,
in another strange place
when even stranger people back then.

You see, this was all way back when
back in my university days
when I had few cares in the world
and when I had much more...of a craze.

So days go by
and friends I would make a plenty.
Yet even so,
I had felt so empty.

Now mind you, I've never felt any happier still
being surrounded by such an awesome loving atmosphere
and the friendliest folks you could ever meet, if you will.

Skipping the details of my life
in essence, at the time, I came to realize
I had been searching all this time
for a wife.

See I didn't want a high school fling
which was all for fun
but not for the ring.
I pride myself when I say
I am not that kind of guy.
So I suppose I can say why
I felt so lonely inside.

In my uni days,
surrounded by lovebirds so sickeningly, maddeningly in love
I had once treated with disdain and disgust
but if only to hide the embarrassment of raging jealousy
through my lack of trust.

Skipping ahead a few years now,
aye, years has it been
oh and how.

I often wondered of my dilemma between my dream of mine.
A wonderful, beautiful, lovely dream, that I can scarcely define.

With the voice of an angel,
skin as fair as one expects one to be
with a joyous compassion, that could make anyone happy!
She has a smile that could light up the world on the darkest of nights alone,
she has one of those smiles you could hear over the phone.

And can she sing! Mercy me, why the greatest choirs couldn't possibly hope to trap her voice! As the sun does give man the comfort of its warmth and bids the plants to grow
Does her voice bring the deaf to hear and the mute to speak GLORY BE!
She is the like the youth of my life,
free, innocent, and ever so happy.
She brings joy to everyone she meets
where ever she may go.
She follows her passions, her dreams, and her faith for sure
for all of this and more, is one of the many reasons why I adore.

But even after so many seasons,
and so many reasons,
I just can't bring my self to ask this dream of mine,
I just can't ask her what I need to say,
I just can't ask her...
to stay.

She is a dream that wanders in my life
like the tides of the ocean blue.
She floats in my mind like a dainty bauble
so pretty
so true.

But she is a dream I just can not reach
so dreaming
will have to do.

This is the dream I know
and I know one day
I'll have
to let
her
go.

To whom it may concern,

I am fragile. I will pretend I'm okay when really my shoulders are collapsing under the weight of the heavy universe I do not feel a part of.

To whom it may concern,

I am tired. I have been running from things I dare not face since monsters began appearing under my bed and now all I'm left with are mirrors. I would rather join the monsters under my bed.

To whom it may concern,

I guess you could say I'm running from myself. Maybe I am. All I know is that the reason I hear my heartbeat so clearly is because my chest is hollow and I push people away for fun, like they're the dinner table I'm sat at and now I'm full.

To whom it may concern,

My name is Victoria, the meaning of Victoria is victory but the only thing I've been victorious at is ripping my own soul until it bleeds black. I've been trying to dye it red from the blood of others but colour fades and I'm tired.

To whom it may concern,

I am made up of layers, some are impenetrable by choice and some are just hanging under my fingernails. I can't seem to get them clean.

To whom it may concern,

I am a riddle, to some, I am a muse. For me, I am trying.

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.

Old friend says, "Remember?"
Stories of my youth,
Summers flicker,
I reach for me.