So much time used up
On something I thought
Would be lifelong
That was murdered by the creation.

So much time used up
Filling my voids
Bandaging my wounds
And avoiding my heart.

So much time used up
Having sleepless dreams
Eating anxiety soup
and trying to break my mind.

So much time used up
Washing my face in tears
Putting on the makeup
That masked my dead face.

So much time just,
Used up.

Then you.

So much time used up
Listening to that voice
Soothing as the breeze
Scary as the ocean.

So much time used up
Letting our souls out
Talking about anxiety meals
And holes barely stitched together.

So much time used up
Learning all about your heart holes
Stitched with gut wretches
As she made every hole.

So much time used up
Grabbing your hands
And showing you how to sew
And we sewed each other up

So much time used up
After we realized we shared
The same string to sew our hearts
and now they connect forever.

So much time used up
Listening to our heart string tunes
Play a new song
Of soul love

So much time used up
Laying head on stomach
And afternoon laughs
Sprinkled with our breaths

So much time used up
On dreams of you
Anxiety soup isn’t
Served here anymore.

So much time used up
On never having enough
Time with you,
My love.

Cobwebs for eyes
and a cotton ball tongue.
I can't see what everyone else does
and even if I did,
how could I tell you
it hurts?

No one ever expected my buried body
to climb back out of the grave
I dug for myself.

No one ever expected my blackened lungs
to draw breath again,
to breathe the air that smothered me.

Twisted claws
gnashing teeth
slimy scales

And when I wake up
I finally see
that the nightmare
was always me.

Is this it?

The sight of a finish line,
despite all those nights sipping wine,
coming closer.
Has anyone ever kept running even after the race was over?

Is this it?

Echoing in the back of my mind:
hushed denials with each squeezing embrace
Every option leading to a bitter after taste
So I leave these aching memories with haste.

Is this it?

My frustration escaped through exhaled sighs
While you place your hands on my trembling thighs.
Blue, deeper than the ocean, colored our sad faces
Because a orange dream was about to reach its demise.

Is this it?

My heart tries to argue: "It cannot be.
For every end is a new beginning
With a twist of fate's hand, something has to be brewing.
Perhaps lead us back to what was once felt that was lost as of late.
History repeats, a wise folk has once told me, make that brave leap and just keep faith.

Is this it?

Meet me again.
After you close your eyes, please I implore, count to ten.
Drift into a dream and meet me there
Until one day you don't have to close your eyes.
One day we will be nose to nose under the same
orange skies.

Didn’t realise you were everything I was looking for
Didn’t know that it was you right from the start
Didn’t know someone could ever feel like home
Cause now I’m all alone
And it’s your body that I’m missing
It’s your lips that I’m craving
It’s your smile it’s illuminating
It’s your heart and it’s overwhelming
I’ll never need anymore
But when you show up at my door
Your all I’m living for
A future with you could repair my past
A lifetime with you and that’s all I ask
For me your perfect
My one true desire

Letting go of you means
letting go of so much more
you don't understand.
Don't expect me to change on demand.
This is by far my
biggest emotional release.
It wont be anything like taking off a fleece.
I feel it unwinding,
each memory rewinding.
Old times that cant help remindin'
how hard it is at findin'
real love.
At one point I thought
you were from
above,
but then I realized
you fell
& you were supposed
to fall to
hell.
You rung my bell,
now I've got this story to tell.
You're another demon to fight.
while the rest
keep me up at night.

Forever ago
I looked you in the eye
And made a promise --
A stupid, stupid vow --
That I'd be your Bonnie
If you'd be my Clyde.

You smiled at me --
Crooked, imperfect
Utterly charming --
And asked me to lend you a light.
A lighter passed between our hands
Before a tiny flame illuminated our faces in the dark
A silent 'I do.'

From that night on
I've had things that other girls
Only possess in their wildest dreams
And, even then
Wouldn't dare say they desired.

I ride shotgun by default
In a ******* car
Much too fancy to legally be yours.
Gifts come in the form
Of beat-up leather articles
That you once wore
Though the lingering shadow of smoke
Is hardly enough
To mask the hint of drugstore perfume.
Sometimes
If you're feeling especially charitable
These offerings are accompanied by the more traditional heart shaped box --
Filled with bullets, of course--
Or a single deep red rose.
For some reason
Every flower you pick
Seems to have many more thorns
Than most of the ones I've known before.

What you seem to consider the best gift of all, however
Is your presence.
I suppose you think it works both ways
When you parade around town
Arm slung around my shoulders or waist
Smiling like I'm some pricey badge
Your signature accessory.
Your performance draws attention, of course --
Awe-stricken once-overs
Envious double takes
Lingering looks that make overzealous Average Joes
Trip over their own feet.
As far as my own feelings go
The envious rush I used to get from the lust-filled eyes of other women
Has long since faded
But the crawling feeling of some depraved pervert's eyes flitting from you to me
And your proud smile, devoid of any visible love
Continue to make my stomach twist itself into painful knots.

What all those adventure-hungry good girls don't know
Is that I haven't felt as powerful as they do in their dreams
In a very long time.
What those green-eyed Plain Janes won't understand
Is that I am little more than arm candy
Your passenger-seat second-in-command
Posed like some special edition, leather-donning Barbie doll
Instructed to sit still
Hold the gun
Look pretty.
They don't realize
That the ache that comes with loving you
Feels absolutely nothing like the feeling described
In the lovelorn writings they post to their blogs.
There's nothing beautiful about it
No reward for staying up all night
Chest aching
Sobbing into a limp pillow in some random hotel room
Trying my best to keep you from hearing it.
As much as I hate to admit it
Nothing you do for me
Makes it worth it.

They all seem to forget
That it was Bonnie
Running from one man who didn't love her
Falling into the arms of another
Already broken
Hoping he might be able to mend a piece or two.
They don't realize
That it was Bonnie
Who **** near got her leg burned off
Because Clyde flipped the car.
The fault was completely his
And yet
She was the one who took the brunt of the damage
Being reduced to having Clyde carry her around
For the rest of their numbered days.
They don't stop to think that this is anything other than 'romantic'
How unfair it is that the world allowed him to ruin her
That maybe --
Just maybe --
She didn't want to be a weapon for him to carry
But a self-firing rifle.
Something intimidating
Unpredictable
Never dependent
On some hotshot
That everybody believes that she was in love with.
The idea never occurs to them
That maybe
When the two of them went down in that infamous hail of bullets
Maybe she wasn't enveloped in warm thoughts of going out in a blaze of glory
But anger
That she didn't get away with it this time
And never would again.


I understand now
That
For all intent and purposes
Bonnie and Clyde are a concept that should have been left behind
Way back in the 30s.
There is no passion
In dying --
On the inside or the outside --
Next to someone everyone thinks that you love.
There is no love
In your arm around me
Squeezing the humanity out of me
Like a man-shaped boa constrictor.
There is no glamour
In sitting loyally by your side
Gripping my seat until my knuckles are white
As you drive your own getaway car
Laughing to yourself
Without ever chancing a glance at me.
There is no beauty
In being wrapped in a jacket
That smells like another woman
No satisfaction
In mechanically handing you a brand new lighter
So you can light another cigarette
To prematurely age your beautiful, James Dean number one-million-and-one face.
I feel no affection now
Watching you smoke up like the nicotine glutton burnout that you are
And I will feel only contempt if --
Heaven forbid --
I ever die by your side.
You exhale
And turn to look at me with sleepy, empty eyes
Letting the remains of your cigarette flicker out
Just like the novelty of having you around did.

Why I resent those girls now --
The ones with those eyes, so hungry and green with envy --
Is that, when we first met
I was just another one of them.
So pampered
So inanely bored
Such a 'hopeless romantic'
That I promptly decided to follow you the ends of the Earth
To every grimy hotel
Even to our demise in the desert, if you wanted me to.
It took me forever to realize I deserved better
And, by then
It was all too late.

While I despise those girls who stare at us now
Swooning, like they're so jealous of the position I'm in
My heart also aches for them --
A bit like the way you make it ache.
Though there's passion in this ache
That being the fact
That my heart is screaming
Telling them to run
Run while they still can
Run before someone like you
Finds them.

For all intent and purposes
There absolutely should not be
A 21st century Bonnie and Clyde.
These should be the days
Of girls spitting their own fire
And boys fighting their own battles.
This should be a generation
Of people learning to find solace in themselves
And reliance taking an unceremonious dive
Off a very steep cliff.
There should be no more green-eyed girls
And James Dean boys
Making each other miserable
And calling it beautiful.
This is the point where we should let Bonnie and Clyde rest in peace
Along with Romeo and Juliet
Annabel Lee
Homer Barron
And every other tragic antihero
Who died at the hands of love.

Forever ago
I made a promise --
A stupid, stupid vow --
That I'd be your Bonnie
If you'd be my Clyde.
Now
What seems like centuries later
I close my eyes
And try to fly somewhere else
In my dreams.
My last thought
Before I drift off
Is that --
Maybe someday --
They'll write poems about us.

Kisses.
Sweet and soft.
Childhood.
Innocence.

Faster.
Heavy breathing.
My heart, it beats
I can feel every pump.

Stomach.
Leaping,
Then diving.
Roller coaster.

Clothes.
On, happy.
Slipping, and scared,
Hands grasp at my dress.

Kissing.
Scary.
Breathless, gasp.
Closed mouth.

Faster.
Head spins.
No.
Say no fast.

Stomach.
Dead leaper.
Alive fire.
Tucked into lungs.

Clothes.
Battling hands.
Defeated hands.
Clothes off.

Kissing.
Forced.
Lost consistency
Dead.

Faster.
No, no, say it fast.
Breathe.
Fast pumps.
Pumps of pain.

Stomach.
Empty.
Hollow guilt.
Swelled up alcohol.

Clothes.
Gone, missed.
Coveted bedsheets.
Grasping for cover.

Kissing.
Dead.
No more.
Death.