our love...
exists.
our love exists,
behind closed doors,
behind four walls
that push up against my lungs
squeezing until I suffocate.
our love exists while you
stand there and stare,
open mouthed
unable to accept
the fact that you denied
a delicate butterfly
the right to take off
that you set fire to a field
of tulips that were begging
for new fallen rain.
you touch me with electricity,
but i am used to this burn.
i am used to this broken feeling;
the feeling after your wings have been
plucked off
and every last layer of skin
has been set on
fire.

she smelled wonderfully sad,
the salt from her tears and the floral scent of her hair
somehow combined into a heavenly aroma i couldn't get out of my nose,
that reminded me of spring depression,
*as if i were collapsing in a field of wildflowers next to the ocean.

I have to be strong for other people.*

This is all that I know.

I cannot, must not, break down
in front of another human.  
My pain takes a backseat to theirs.
Cast aside, on my own comand.

I still feel the pain, however.
And when I'm alone...
Sometimes, when alone,
I remember.
I break.
I hurt.

Then I walk out.
Ready to take on another person's burdens.


(d d.b)

Each thought pierces and penetrates
My heart,
Causing irratic thumping,
Loud sighs,
Quick skipping.
I still smile,
Even through the pain.
With all the pain that comes
With all those fond memories,
Each and everyone
Reminds me the bond
Between you and I,
Everything we've been through,
And reminds me to smile.

i'm so afraid that
you do not think about me
as much as i you.