when you kissed me
you sent a shock wave into me
that not even a 12.8
on the Richter scale
can compare
—————————————
I thought about the possibilities
that we both might have
walked past each other
but without acknowledgement
—————————————
one day
you’ll no longer be
my missing jigsaw piece
because someone out there
can fix me better
than you ever did

A silence with you
Is not
a silence

But a moment rich
with peace

I was never this soft
So breakable
I was a hard cover book
Strong and new
That you bent back to read
Allowing myself to be so easy.

Now my spine is broken
Cover clearly used
Abandoned,
Alone,
Abused
How could you?

My story remains
With pages still intact
Someone else will come along
Gentle enough
To repair my broken back.

I’m fragile
Susceptible to further damage
Cracked down the middle
Barely hanging
Slowly healing

Does this story get a sequel?
Another chance for something real
I’m fearful I’ll never recover
With pages badly wilted
Discolored
Torn, and bent back.

Greasy thumbprints
Smeared along my text
Leaving permanent imprints
On my once pretty print.

My story has changed too.
How could this remain a fairytale,
After consuming the forbidden fruit?

I’m half dead
And my book
Has been read through
By someone who skipped ahead
Just to know the end
And stupidly,
I let them.

Thinking that if they knew
All the secrets of my story
The struggles
The success
My journey
They would love me
Not leave me.

If only I kept my chapters safe
Knowing I’m worthy
For a slower pace
Not rushed through
And read in a day.

You might have read the ending
Little do you know
That was the preface.

Better yet,
I’ll remove you completely
Editor’s revision says
There is no space for you here.

Backspace, delete.
Now you're just history
All that is left
Is to empty the trash bin.

there is a secret about the way you use words.
you looked me in the eyes. you said "passion fruit".
like it was something you felt during a session of
shared sweat that pours out you from the humidity brought by the rain,
in the dead of night, in the middle of fall.
It's the way the words rolled off of your tongue,
sounded to me like a moan.
A reminder and reason to remember your name.
It made my lips moist when I heard you say this...
I could have swore you painted me a picture of your lips on mine when you spoke these words.
Tell me, is there something secret in the way you looked me in the eyes and proclaimed "passion fruit".

I've fallen off the radar.
fallen between the cracks
and I don't know if I have
the strength, or the courage, to make it back.

The world disowned me.
The world set me free.
But I don't know now who I am supposed to be.

I'm in a state of suspended animation
hanging by a thread
from a needle that is my life.

My mood is like spring showers,
dismal and gray,
Saturating and lasting for days.