Just give me a reason to love you



                                                     *...and I will.

Blood stained his white sheets
Our work incomplete
Best efforts to be discrete

"Did I hurt you?"
Views me as ingénue
Hands holding crimson tissues

This wasn't our first
Not near our worst
But our movements were not rehearsed

Yet I expected to bleed
Before his ever-present need
His hunger now mine to feed

It was my confession -
My exhaled expression
That left reasoning unquestioned

My linguistic fragility
Combined with pure sensibility
Caused a loss of my true virginity

She has friends
A lot of friends
Yet she feels alone

She knows them
But they don't know her
Not any of them


Its such a despair -
A tragedy I plead
The one who has loved
Is always neglected indeed

Your laugh.
The big one.
The loud one.
The "I'm at home laugh."

Not the quiet, public laugh;
the polite titter for
dinner with aquantances.

I want the big throated, down deep laugh.

I want your breathless whispers against my neck.

I want one of those hugs you give me when you mean it. The desperate embrace.

I want minutes. All of them... to soak up the seconds as the thirsty are nourished by dewdrops.

I will love all of the sadness and uncertainy  and anxiety.
These are minutes too.
I wish I'd been better, sooner.

I've loved you so much for so long it feels like all of the love that ever was
Over the course
Of forever.

I love you so much that I wish I had a unique word.
A language singularity
that was only for you.
A word that I didn't have to share with shampoo commercials and free lunches and other people.

I (_) you with all my heart. Know that. On this, the fakest of all holidays,
Tha one that you hate the most,
Please know that I ( ) you.

I asked him
how many others
he said 81
because of course
I only had the courage
to ask him in a dream
but in the dream
I leapt from the bed
I ran out the door
and cried in the dirt trails by his house
waking with a start
unsure if it really happened
knowing it HAD to happen
I had to ask that question
and stop leaving myself
letting my tears roll into the sheets
as I clutch his warm naked body
stop fooling my self
c'mon girl
you know you're nothing special
just a tight young thing
his thing
and no matter how much you daydream
it'll never be more
so stop the ******* dream
you tiresome little kid
this is real life
people are animals
and not everybody has a heart of gold
let your tears wash away
the ideas
of how you think the world works
because baby
you see the bruises on your heart
it'll only get worse from here
so pucker up butter cup
don't let yourself turn into a ****
because you want to convince yourself
fairytales are real
and the nightmares
could never be based off reality
but you got to stand up
ask that **** question
you know you won't like the answer
but you have to stop this nagging painful
atrocious
feeding frenzy
destroying you like cancer.
be brave,
and get that **** answer.

you passed by
like a hurricane
a tsunami following your wake,
you turned my world upside
I had no choice
but to go along for the ride,
so much happened
I thought
it must have been years
but it was only a second
that you passed me by,
in a whirlwind
so fast
so driven
you didn't notice
I slipped my heart into your pocket,
and you kept on going
leaving me behind,
forgetting...
I know not where you have gone,
but I wonder
if you ever took your hands off the beast of life
and dared to relax them in your pocket,
if you would find my heart there, still,
or perhaps it fell out
tumbled down into the bush
on one of your adventures,
lost forever,
it hurts
it hurts so bad
that you have my heart
but I do not blame you
for not giving yours in return
no,
for you didn't know I gave you mine,
to blame you would be unfair,
so I shan't tell you of the tears I've cried
from my loss
my pining
no I do not blame you
for not returning a love
you don't know begs returning.

I wish our words
could be as easily
erased from our hearts
as they are from paper

If I'm being honest
I'm tired of being a poet.
I'm tired of findig meaning in everything from the lines of the sky to the cracks in the side walk
I'm tired of using extended metaphors to explain how overwhelmed or angry or sad I am 
I'm tired of immortalizing the people I love or hate in half assed lines of poetry
For once I would like a good day just to be a good day or a bad day just to be a bad day
A landscape to hold no higher meaning than to magnify the glory of existence
For the people I know to hold no cosmic significance in the fabric of time
I would like to sit and be quiet
To write and be at peace
For the storm to pass over
And to find some relief
This is not a game for me this is how I breathe and I am tired of having to hold meaning in every crack and every crevice
My poetic nature has become a menice in my tired skin
I'm tired of letting the light in
But this isn't something you quit
This is something you breathe
This is something you are
This is something you need
Even if it doesn't make sense all the time
This is the one true thing I know that's mine
My sense of rhythm and my sense of rhyme
And it isn't easy all the time
Because these days life moves faster than I've even known
Faster than I can process what I've been shown
These days it's easy to feel the weight of all of my time spent alone
My mind isn't home
I'm chilled to the bone
These days I'm tired of being tired and tired of writing about how tired I am
Like I'm six feet under but I'm not yet dead
Using poetic devices to say what's already been said
I'm tired of playing this game
Imortalizing name after name
I still feel the same
Even though I still keep writing
So what I'm trying to say is that I need poetry like I need water but sometimes if you drink too fast or you drink too deep you feel like you're drowning
Out to sea in familiar surroundings
It's astounding how tiring being a poet can be.