You watch me
as I undress,
and your body
writhes with
pleasure.

With each garment
that I remove,
you grow closer
to the exquisite
ecstasy

Of being a dog
curled in sleep
at the feet
of her sleeping
mistress.

Do you remember when you fell for thirty minutes
and when you landed the impact split the earth into seven thousand shades of blue hue
and not a word left your lips, they wouldn't do that without kissing you goodbye
I kept my hands clasped together the whole time, but you don't remember that
because you weren't really there, not until the next time
when everything was new but you already knew it all far too well
the lines were already written, you'd rehearsed them your whole life
no, you hadn't, because you never thought you'd need them, really
because you were never clumsy and you never fell
kept yourself steady under thirty layers of armour
but who knew that tides had hands with which to hold you
and undress your layers without hesitation
and who knew that love had a name
but I learnt it quickly
your name
I learnt it like it was scripture, scripture that I believed in
and kept your pages close to my chest looking only when you told me to
redefining blind faith, as you taught me to see to eradicate the blind
to find not divinity, but affinity beneath your cover
wrapped around your spine

These concrete walls echo with the soft steps on the keys
The glass stares blankly, unresponsive to the provoking winds.
Beyond this black door is a floor plan, vague and suffocating.
The sting of fall on my summer skin- unprepared, choking on the calm before the storm.
The neck of the sweater soothes like a sip of merlot, wrapping its warm body around my heart;
lingering at the lips waiting for its chance to spit out the repression,
encompassing the mouth with a grey smog.
The thoughts burn like a cigarette,
Punishing me with the stale taste of misery,
my eyes water with the salt of this wound.
The branches undress, letting the past slip like a dress to the floor-
and suddenly it is me who feels naked.
A cold hand traces my jaw, tilting my head towards what I knew was coming
I keep my mouth shut,
and I smile

The slender curves of your waist
Smile at me as I caress you with my eyes
And undress you with my lies

An overactive imagination
makes way for infatuation
excessive stimulation
brain saturation
I'm satiated
but not satisfied
and that is life
that leads to killer lies
A killer lies
deep in my soul
but I'll never let it go
never let it wander
travel
into the real world I see
my perception knows no reflection
A pretty girl
I undress
with my eyes
to remove her guise
when she speaks
I look in her eyes
but not too long
to my surprise
in her heart
there are other guys
so it is my demise
that the reality
is not so real
and now I feel
collision
of two worlds exploding
my mind imploding
never ceasing
or stopping
to think
or take a drink
of a soothing glass of peace
when it comes to peace
I'd like a piece of mine
to share with the world
so they can see
the gift and the curse
that consumes me
and I speak truly
from a heart
once soft
now made unruly
I wait
to hear a noise
see a vision
make an incision
a repair
I come back
with more flair
and let my hair
grow
so I can show
a tiny bit
of what it is like
to be a man
with an expanding mind
with the windows down
no sense of time
or place to go
I'm free at last

Ghost in the shadows, killing thoughts had in the dark,
What luck to have been so close to an edge,
pulled away from the cliff, close to being cut off,
But my scaled skin just broke off the tip. Given a
second chance to live.

Sort of took a chance to breathe, took all that’s in,
And letting out desire; seems my old inner demons
are quick to come together and conspire,
Darling I’m only a liar, I could never count all
of the daily lies in pen, and catchy rhymes.

But just wait for tonight.

Tonight we’re going to be caught up in a lie,
laying sheets of paper on a wooden bed,
Drawing closer to an embrace, with my imprint
on your skin.

Oh where to begin?


Is it sweet lips, cherry bites, and still wild,
scented candles, and perfumed necks,
Smelling of youthful passions, and exuberance,
I’m dying fighting this flesh.

Chestful of voices, holding breaths, holding
embraces, and swimming pools, swimming
breast stroke. I’m smothered by your pillows.

In the centre line to the belly of tickles, all the
sensitive areas for both of us.
Of course the senses are only too much, if my
tenderness of kisses are a bit too fast.

Setting sun, and a sinking moon,
in between an ocean with it’s two peaks,
I had my glimpse under a dress,
address me as a favourite flavour, slowly as you
undress.

The duration of warming up long legs,
pressing down buttons, pressing knees,
Pressing feet, pressing emotions, pressing
concerns, I’m pressed to solve them with a
bust of a gun.

Won’t our tonight be so fun?

I feel lost and forgotten
The white light strings
No longer tether me
To hope

The pattern of people’s behavior
Is not something I savor
I tire of trying to play savoir
To the mad mass of human cattle

Love is but an illusion
Dull despondent
I no longer long for it
A bitter mistress
Who I undress
With no more self-delusion

It is a fog and as all fogs do
It must pass
I must ask
Myself to be patient
But it runs very deep
And I would rather go to sleep

I'm mad at you
and I don't want
to be mad at you.

but at the same time,
I'm not mad enough.
I should be angrier.

there have always been
gaps in my memory,
places where my trauma
nibbled away until the
memories were useless.

you knew this.

I have spent years of
my life trying to recover,
trying to patch up
the holes in my memory.

I lost my entire childhood.
I spent all of it trying to
remember what my brain
wanted me to forget.

I have cried and hurt
and panicked and once,
I even tried to give up.

for most of my life,
I have hated myself
and harmed myself.

you knew this.

you knew how badly
this ****** up my life.

you even tried comforting me,
giving me brotherly speeches
and advice that I took to heart.

I trusted you.
for all of these years,
I have trusted you.

the memories came back.
I haven't slept in six days.
I am being slowly destroyed
by my own mind, and
I don't know how to stop it.

you were there that night.
I ran to your room and
I banged on the door
and you opened it,
and I told you everything.

you were the voice
in the bathroom with me,
helping me undress
and assessing my injuries.

you knew what happened,
and you said nothing.

I know you were young,
and I know that this has
traumatized both of us.

but you were old enough
to remember everything.

you remember the
blood stains and the
fear in my eyes and
how I barely knew what
had happened to me.

I understand why you
didn't say anything
on that night all of
those years ago,

but why didn't you
say anything when
I was older and you saw
how it shattered me?

I almost killed myself
trying to remember
what you already knew.

this is my body.
that was my trauma.
those were my memories.

you knew this whole time.
you knew everything.
you ******* knew,
and you said nothing.

why did you say nothing?
why didn't you tell me?

I just need to know.
why didn't you tell me?

why did you keep this
locked inside of your brain
while mine desperately
searched to find it?

how could you?
I trusted you.

and this whole time,
you already knew.

Giddy with excitement,
she fumbles with her keys.
As the key slides home,
she grows weak in the knees.

She’s waited so long,
and it’s finally come.
She spent a small fortune,
and the thing weighs a ton.

She pushes in the package,
starting to sweat,
and suddenly realizes,
her ******* are wet.

She slides a finger inside her,
and lets out a moan,
trembling slightly,
all the way to the bone.

Gathering herself,
she locks the door tight,
and forces herself to calm down,
gathering all her might.

Getting down on her knees,
she opens the box,
brushing away the packing,
like styrofoam rocks.

When she sees his face,
she sits up *****.
He is so lifelike,
and anatomically correct.

Reaching into the box,
she caresses his face.
He’s so beautifully sculpted,
not a thing out of place.

Then she runs her hands,
down his chest to his groin,
caressing his ****,
feeling the warmth in her *****.

It’s bigger than expected,
as long as her forearm.
The biggest she’s had,
but this raises no alarm.

Taking her time,
she arranges him on the bed.
Even laying a pillow,
under his head.

Running fingers through his hair,
she begins to undress.
Doing it slowly,
cause slowly is best.

He’s more than a doll,
more than plastic parts.
He will never hurt her,
or break her heart.

She crawls on all fours,
in between his thighs,
running her fingers over him,
as she stares into his eyes.

Then she fills her mouth,
******* gently at first,
and then she fills her throat,
trying to quench her thirst.

She’s dripping now,
so exquisitely wet,
and moaning deeply,
like a good little pet.

The doll lays still,
as she mounts it slow.
She’s lost in her pleasure,
as something brushes her toe.

She opens her eyes,
as a hand grabs her throat,
and another her breast,
her vision starting to float.

She struggles for air,
and feels a ****** as it moves,
and a soft moan escapes it,
as the blackness consumes.

Bucking and fighting,
she claws at its face,
but it simply slides deeper,
and quickens its pace.

She stares down into eyes,
that are filled with life,
and features so sharp,
as to be carved by a knife.

It’s beauty is gone,
simply melted away,
seeming to flow freely,
as if made from soft clay.

As her vision fades,
it moves inside her,
whispering “my princess”,
in a soft little purr.

She's cold* but she needs a fix to warm
Her shattered body withered away from strange
men stuck in a world were make up
is a good enough I.D. so she plays in the snow
A little longer no one dares utter *Merry Holidays
carrying bags filled with goodies for good kids
Who only undress for a bath Shes no sweet piece of pie
It seems everyone knows shes a bad kid though seeking
goodies only handed off in hotel rooms with
water stained ceilings her heart beating to bed springs

She's cold but she needs to make a dollar or two
more to get a flake on her tongue unfeed yet
if everyone knew she was sent here to stay
with a uncle she never knew lived up here
For the holidays another sacrifice for her mom's
Christmas tree habit

She's cold Yet she has to make a snow angel
tonight to feel like she's not just a girl apart of
a group of sixth who sit in between client time
imagining what high school would be like
if daddy would let them attend just
to feel as clean as class room desk

She's cold but its just the right temperature
for her to collapse another vein from pressure
of snow falling to fast for her to move Shivers recede

She's cold but she cant move her body up
in a way feeling a high faster then her arms can spread
wide and her legs can seem to move outward numb

She's cold but she knows in this dead end alley
Only hands of thieves will move her so she closes her
eyes and on Jesus's Birthday feels no more cold
Because snow angels go home to heaven?

1

You will avoid overcomplimenting. Stick to phrases
eeked of desire—smart blouse, handsome family.

You will find a chair. Tilt your head until you've
found the ceiling. Let discomfort loom. Let her speak.

Don't respond right away. Make her second guess her words.
Let her try to ramble out of it on a macro level. Let her dwell
on the micro miscalculations in silence.

Give it some time. Respond.
But calibrate. Be indirect, detached. "I'm here, aren't I?"

2

Don't encourage sentimentality or nostalgia.

When she brings up the early days—and she'll bring up the early days—remind her of your many failures in kindness.

The time she called from the psych ward and you told her you were busy should work. Or when you made her walk home after
the big fight. Or when you introduced her as a friend.

3

Here, she'll take your hand and guide it along her soft features.

Oblige.

Focus on the way you take her in. Give her a jagged gaze.
Don't relent.

Undress yourself. Do this without intro or segue or ceremony.

Comment on her alkaline and citrus taste. Drift five feet above yourself and watch it happen.

4

Laying tangled in the aftermath of blankets and sheets, ask her
about her husband.

Ask her about her drinking.

Ask her about her son's new school.

Ask her about her prescriptions, the side effects.

5

Take the long way home. Grab the brown belt to go with the brown shoes. Drink water. Lots of water. Eggs, not cereal.

Show up early to work. Appear eager and sincere in your every
task.

Blend.

I notice you from afar
and as I glance to you and away
repeating until our eyes meet

There is nothing between us
but I feel a buzz a burn
your eyes follow me
as we move close

I see you undress me with your eyes
that's how our friendship is
built on a lust veiled in lies

as the niceties ensue
you press me closer yet to you
and all that's on my mind
is no greeting that I give
or  answers to "how do I do?"

but fantasies of past
forgotten in the midst of
everything that curtly ended

we briefly know to talk
to give each other space
but those feeling will not erase
the tingle in my spine
the warmth from my inside

from there we continue on
I wondering what went wrong

unlock the door.
undress, clothes will just get in the way.
turn on the lights, inside your soul is where the light will pour.
take your time, select a motion that will make them pay.
your looks are what they are here for.
give them a key to your home, they are hear to stay.
no time for thought, we dont want that, we want the *****.
we want the filth of your skin, the rest can go away.
if you dont let them in they wont accept you, not anymore.
we are vampires waiting for blood.
we are trolls rolling in the mud.
we feed on your indivuality.
**** away at your pureness.
slash at your spirit.
all we want is your body.
everything else can go away.
all we want is to hurt you, no one cares anymore.
your are a women, and society wants your body.
you are a man, and society wants your body.
you are a human, and the trolls will feast on your weakness
the vampires will **** at your happiness.
until you are just skin.
which is all we really care about anymore anyway.
no more love, or thoughts.
just lust, and thots.

i step into the shower
picking shards of glass off my palms
delicately undress the wounds on my legs

cold water pours
i rest my purple, ****** fingers against the shower stall
and douse myself in rose-scented soap
scrubbing what skin remained

see my black eyes in the broken mirror
as i wipe my face off.
an arsenal to fix the mess.

loving arms wait outside the door
but my cold hands tremble on the ****

bruises wrapped in a tight dress

i’d lie gorgeous in a casket
and finally rest.

Sprawling Hills of Robbins calling, flitting up and diving down plumes of cherry blossom. Whispers between sunlit shower over speckled lawn canvas that keeps me rolling in anticipation of what's to come. To come. My one. When God sends, he will tread my boundaries exploring, yet never wanting to crumple one leaf, but I whisper between our fifth and sixth eyes the omens flung about my halls, that he may crunch every leaf and twig his soles do bound upon, the past may rip and scream across the forest floor if it means he will be who he needs, not who I need, so that we may meet in harmony,  so that I may have him and hold him for all this lifetime. He may crunch his path as he runs, with no plea by me to stop echoing death. I am heaven sent, I pulsate frequency  radiating out of me, not likely to leave my King, or the king my King brings, in favor of fanciful histories.. I will delight to be his queen of the mornings. I will be the feast his eyes eat up. The fruit so nourishing, before it fall, leaves falling. Falling. Back to the Earth from which I came, to be reborn in spring. Falling. Falling. He will be my summer calling, I his long awaited rain. He will be the harshest winter that makes my ego hibernate or there'd be no surviving. No writhing. Butterflies from the tomb, exploding out like flumes, the free falling, falling. Poppies popping through ice pockets, shattering what was frosted, and cloudy. My sunshine melts away his cold, I will be the life force he delivers into new dimensions of reality, cuz together we are the Galaxies.  Galaxies. They waited to be born since we last pulled apart, my love weathers every storm, my Lord hath created, Created. To test integrity that should burn through centuries, through the ages. Ages. My King will be assembly to every notion born of my hips. He will be the part  inside me I can't shake and I wouldn't want to,  because how much he cares shows through constant. I want for him to be the only one to undress me for the rest of time, his hands on my waist haunting til I say his name and baby comes back crawling to make mama sing and scream til she's back onto her day with a charming grin she can't even hide when she's trying. That's golden. Golden. He is Daddy, he'll be the first and last man to know her pleasure cuz he's everything she's ever wanted and he knows it. He also knows that he should treat her kind so they don't scream and fight. Screaming or more likely crying would be the inevitable cuz she would never walk out on marriage, the institution that doesn't change things just cuz you've commited. The ego fuckery isn't dead on arrival of our Father to a blessed union. He wouldnt walk out on her, cuz he evolved past thinking he doesn't deserve everything that God did bring him. The Great Mother did sing that this would be beautiful something. Naturally, I'd wait for her ques to tell me hes someone true. I dont come unless I hear Angels calling. Calling. I muse I hope itd not be truth that Im a glorified learning tool, for I wanted the table itself to sprawl upon. The problem, reality calls, is word of free will runs rampant out of control from soul, I'll beat my pride down like a game of whack a mole cuz that's how much I love him. Love him.  I'll steal every show.  My will unlocks every door, its not whats next for renting, Im the rare bird. You are the rarest blue, so true then sad takes you to an underworld of pain through past fast forward to lessons. Transcendence. Its not that in our true essence, we're less worthy of Gods blessing, it's just that the timing has to be right for picking.  Mutual peace must be obtained,  non mutual paves no way.  Love is not jealous. Jealous. Love is not boastful, never. Must not boast of bitten hands or fan self delusions that we're not worthy. We are worthy. So worthy. Love is not prideful. Love is what's left when you brush the emotion off the past. Love is the deepest forgiveness that only comes from truly loving oneself. If I must wait, I promise I will befriend you til Jesus pushes you aside to make room for husband,  or til he helps you push out your own ego and locks him out our happy home. Permanently. Forever. And we can be what we thought we might,  if only the timing was right,  and everything magically aligned how we hoped when we astro-traveled and looked down on the Milky Way, just hoping. Hoping. In our furthest dreams, that by God's grace we'd meet. Our fingers are still intertwined out there somewhere and I swear my soul feels it. I can feel it.

**** me with your feelings
caress me with your care
fashion me with kisses
then undress me with your stare
wrap me up
inside your soul
I'll start a fire
so you won't get cold
& I won't ever tire
of having you to hold
you made me feel like a diamond
when I thought I was coal

I don't miss your eyes
or even your lips.
I don't miss your frame:
your shoulders, your chin, your hips.
I don't miss the lust,
or the heat of the moment.

I miss the feeling behind it all.

I miss eyes that undress my thoughts.
      Stripping them of every layer until all
      that's left is venerable, naked, trembling truth.
I miss lips stitched to a mouth that has power.
       The power to speak not only to my ears, but to
       every inch of me.
       Shooting hot, prickly shivers down my spine
OR
       sending massive cashing-to-the-shore shakes
       on the Sea of My Own Tears.
I miss a frame that screams "I want you".
        Shoulders that lead,
        a chin that rests,
        hip bones that press.

I miss you more than I thought I would… think I should.

my mom was right
when she said "don't look into their pretty eyes
you'll lose yourself in them" she said
"and they'll steal the most beautiful parts of you for themselves"
but i did not listen to my mother
instead i listened to the boys with eyes full of wonder
when they filled my head with lies
i suppose i had a thing for the way the words tasted off their tongues
making me feel they could do no wrong

my mom was right
when she said "don't let them taste your beautiful skin
they'll never be able to see you as more than a body after that" she said
but i was a silly little girl
and i bared flesh to the boys with strong hands
and sparkling teeth
it was just that when they touched me
it felt as if they'd never let me go
i felt safe
but i ended up becoming just another flavor on their list
a one-time taste

my mom was right
when she said "don't fall for the ones who seem to care about that precious mind of yours
because they don't"
she said
"because they never will"
she said
"they’re using your mind & your thoughts
as a method to get inside your body"
she said
yet i ended up pouring out my heart to boys with faces shining as bright as the moon
i told them about my wildest desires and my craziest dreams
like how i wanted to change the world and make people smile
they smiled
and listened
while they slowly unbuttoned my top
one piece of clothing at a time
i undressed my soul when all they wanted was for me to undress my body

my mom was right
when she said "don’t fall in love with their “live fast die young” attitudes
their definition of living in the moment
is use and abuse, my darling daughter,
don’t listen to the words they speak with their hands"
she said
"don’t let them fool you into thinking that your one night long romance
is b e a u t i f u l"
but i couldn’t help myself
i fell hard and i fell fast
spent the rest of my nights
wondering why it felt so wrong when at the time it felt so right
i blamed myself for being too clingy
when the truth was
i was just naïve and silly
they asked for my body
and i gave them my heart along with it
silly
silly
silly girl

my mom was right all along
& i wish i'd realized that
before i ended up all alone in my bed
my blanket full of regret
and stains of my mistakes
i'm sorry, mommy,
i'm sorry i didn’t realize you were right from the very start
now i'm paying my dues in *sweat, blood & tears

do you feel that too? do you feel the sting of the static electrocute our lovelorn lips right after they part? do you feel the pull of gravity when we kiss? it guides our hands to find each other’s necks, and every movement creates heart earthquakes and little soul deaths. do you feel the bumps on my skin as you undress my mind and at the same time, take off my clothes? do you feel your fingertips mark me with potential wounds, but cover them up with warm kisses? you’ve traveled on my body like a clueless wanderer, and you found the places that i hide from everybody else. you’ve touched the parts of me that nobody can see but us. do you feel that too? do you feel the ghosts hide behind the curtains when you say, “you still haunt me in my sleep,” even when we sleep side by side every night? you used to say that the grass and the trees and the leaves and the branches dance for me. well love, they stop all their swaying and twisting when our bodies move together in the dark; we have an accidental choreography to the symphonies that our hearts create. the whole world stops to listen when you say, “you’re beautiful,” and the sky forgets to shine along with the sun when i smile. we are each other’s world; we are each other’s sky & sunshine. tell me. do you feel that too? do you feel the colors splatter your insides when you realize that you’re in love, and when you realize that you wouldn’t know what to do if this love ever falls apart? because i do, love. i feel them all. i feel the static. i feel the earthquakes. i feel the world stop. i feel the clocks stop ticking. i feel everything all at once, even when it only really happens in my mind. tell me, do you feel this too? i feel everything for you.

Abela
sips her wine
wipes her mouth
looks around

love it here
Dubrovnik
she utters

I sip beer
turn a page
of my book
poetry
D. Thomas
Welsh poet

lovely wine
why don't you
try the wine?

I like beer
I reply

why do you
have to read?
she mutters

why do you
have to talk?

she cold stares
sips more wine

cigarette?
I suggest

get your own
she replies

I sip beer
close the book

nice place this
beer's good too
and that girl
that waitress
she's good too

what's so good
about her?
what's she got
that I’ve not?

I don't know
not seen her
undress yet

I light up
a hand rolled
cigarette

those two guys
she tells me
at the bar
the other night
are gay guys

I inhale
hold the smoke
exhale it

you think so?

it stands out
a wide mile

you liked him
the dark one
his dark eyes
wavy hair

she closes
her eyelids
zips her lips

what makes you
think they're gay?

I saw them
lip kissing
she whispers

we lip kiss
we hand kiss
we thigh kiss
we breast kiss

THAT'S ENOUGH
she bellows

I think they're
nice fellows
I tell her
not my scene
but nice guys

Abela
drains her wine
glares at me

another wine?
I ask her
cigarette?

I want gin

I signal
a waiter
one gin please
I tell him
and whiskey

he goes off

she lights up
a French smoke

about the girl
the waitress
just a joke
I tell her

(but the girl
the waitress
occupies
a small room
in my mind)

how days go
she utters
how time flies.

You may not want to hear this from me, I understand.
But I'm going to allow the words to escape.
Fair-warning.

I'm sorry things aren't going smoothly in California. A lot has changed, I'm sure everyone just needs time to adjust.
They care, I'm sure they just don't know how to help.
I'm sorry you're trying to find ways to fill the emptiness and it's leaving you bored. Boredom can be dangerous.
I bet you feel like Milo, stuck inside on a rainy day.
I hope you wake up one morning and without realizing it, you are filled with peace, joy, and curiosity as you discover your new surroundings.
I really do.
And I assure you, you've not been forgotten.
Not by me, not by anyone here.
I'm not sure of their reasoning, but I've kept my distance so you could walk the streets of San Diego without feeling the weight of the people missing you back home.
Also, because I can't shake the thought of not meaning **** to you anymore-- why would you care to hear from me?
It's shrug-worthy, but you are thought of every single day.

I read your poem and it resonated with me until the lines about emotional abuse in regards to our relationship past.
I am sorry you feel as though you were emotionally abused while we were together.
Your feelings are valid, your thoughts are valid, but from the bottom of my heart, I can't agree.
I am adding vinegar to this story caked in mold.
Forgive the smell.

During our relationship, I would end things because I thought I was doing what was best for the both of us.
Though my intentions were pure, it was undeniably impulsive of me
and I am truly sorry for being so **** fickle.
I left because of the red flags I saw-- a defense mechanism used by trauma survivors of abuse-- I left to protect myself from someone who I loved deeply but was indifferent, manipulative, and passive aggressive at times.
I went back because of how much good I know that I know there was and still is in you.
Your faults do not define you.
I loved you at your worst. At your best. Especially on the days you couldn't describe how you were feeling.
You didn't need to tell me because I understood.

I left to protect my heart and so you could find someone who would make your eyes light up just from walking into the room, because I knew I couldn't.
Seeing you smile at everyone and seeing my smile met with your bored eyes, I'll admit it kept me up at night. I'll admit it kept me silently crying from room to room.
The rejection I'd feel from someone who would make it clear he wanted me only when he would **** me.
Lights out, keep my distance, repeat again tomorrow.
It seemed there wasn't an end to the lonely nights spent by your side.

It was my choice to stay in such an environment for the time that I did, and I don't regret it.
I stayed for the days we were in-sync. The days we would look across the room at each other with a knowing glance. The days we would walk for miles and laugh along the way. The nights we would drink and get so dizzy as the room spun
with nothing to keep us grounded but our lips pressed against one another. The nights we would undress and lie in bed, talking, sharing stories, kissing one another's skin.

****, now I'm remembering too much.

The point is
I put you first.
Forget my own mental health, yours mattered more to me then.
You didn't ask me to, I wanted to. I wanted you. I wanted to be your friend.
If that is emotional abuse on my end, please enlighten me as to how.
Because I'm still feeling the neglect yet still hold you lightly in my head.

I left to pursue someone who I thought deserved a second chance.
I was convinced you were bored and didn't really care who I ended up with, that you were with me out of convenience.
I felt unwanted.
Later on, after we got back together, you said if I ever went back to him, that would be it.
I understood.
After we broke up, I hooked up with him.
The same night you slept with someone else.
I didn't hold it over your head; we weren't together. But you held it over mine.
To be honest, I think it's ****.
I think it's unfair.
For me to forgive you for going even further than I did and for you to not reciprocate.
Your drunkenness is not an excuse, my dear.

You slept with someone else and I forgave you.

I don't need your forgiveness, in truth, I did you no wrong-- we weren't together when we ventured out to different people-- but it would be nice to move forward without this ink splotch mucking up the clarity of things.

Once I'm convinced of something, it's hard to unwind the coils, unbend the metal, and begin again, you may be similar, only you'd know.
But I think you'd learn a lot from this if you took a step back and slipped into my shoes for a moment. Really reviewed our time together with a fine-toothed comb.

My error was in not taking care of myself, trying to take care of someone else, and doing a **** job at both.
This year was one of the most exhausting 12 months of my life. My physical and mental health took quite a beating.
I wasn't in a place to tend to the issues I kept ignoring that I'm digging up now for my own sanity.
I feel better now,
and I hope once things settle down and this depression fades, you will too.

I want to humbly and sincerely apologize from the depths of my being for ever hurting you.
I am sorry for the times I woke up in a bad mood from not sleeping well the night before.
I am so sorry for not just walking away when I was irritable so you wouldn't have to remember it.
It is over and done with and I am pouring water over the embers of what we used to be,
but still, I am sorry.
I forgive you-- even if you aren't sorry.

I thought about listing the things you've done, the ways you've hurt me, but pressed backspace instead.
It doesn't matter anymore.
It's forgiven.
It is now forgotten.

I respect that our views of the events that transpired between us clash, I respect that things might not ever be the same again.
But I'll be ****** if I didn't wish that we were given one more chance by the Universe to get it right.

You are still someone I love deeply, someone I would take several bullets for, someone who will be spoken of as a lesson for my future children.
I will tell them of a young man I once knew who revealed to me what it meant to selflessly love someone,
and when to walk away.
I will tell them of the story that you are.
A breathing legend.
My old best friend.

O <youknow> the words
sound so simple
~Letting ~you ~~~    go
but; ha¡ there you are¡
In. My. Skin.
& it's a ''knee ''****
a {{back {bend
a hair 》pull
purple bruise
| paper | cut |
where¿doieven¿begin
spl/it/tin/g /cel/l/s
unwish-those-wishes
....to° the° moon°
Unkiss
     Unhold
          Undress
& back a _ gain
you're in [you're in] you're in
left < to < face
the GReater truth:
there is no
                   UnDo > you.

I'm just a pile of bones,
leaning deep into my desk,
deep into my computer screen,
the sight is quite grotesque,

for I am just a pile of bones,
with my hollow clinking sound,
as my ribcage xylophone,
sinks slowly to the ground,

I'm just a pile of bones,
so please don't mind the mess,
I promise to pick up my pieces,
right after they all undress,

'cause I"m just a pile of bones,
it doesn't matter where I fall,
scattered across the desk here,
and spread out into the hall,

for this lonely pile of bones,
reserves the right to sleep,
in hopes I'll be put back together,
in the hours I seldom keep.

Look me in the eyes
Admire my beauty
Come closer
Wrap me in your arms.
Put your fingers in my hair
Whisper in my ears
Kiss me with passion.
Exchange some saliva.
Exhale gently
Caress my flawless skin
Undress my intentions
Feel my skin against yours.
Drink my nectar
Fill my every void
Set me on fire
Love me like it is the end of the world.

Someone asked me what being a poet is like.
And I blushed.

Not because I was called a poet
(Which I'm not)
Not because my poems embarrass me
(Sometimes they do)

But because being a poet
Is like that dream.
You know that dream,
where you're naked in front of a class?

Being a poet, painter, and musician
Is like being naked.

You're exposed to the world,
The most private parts of you exposed.
Ready to be judged, lauged at, criticized,
And loved.

It's like the world is looking at you.
The ugly scar on your chest,
Stretch marks from being spread too thin,
Fat pockets from when you weren't strong.

Someone told me I have a comma problem,
It hurt, like somone telling me I was ugly.

I know I'm beautiful though.
I love my imperfections.
My writing is my own, unique.
No critisizm can stop me from being me.

I lay my words uncovered, unaltered
On the page. They wait, breathlessly.
Sometimes being a poet is hard and brave,
Other times it's fun and easy.

Someone asked me what being a poet is like
I said it was great, and then I started to
Write.

(Undress)

in warmth
we dress inside
a darkened dressing room
not caring for the fashion trend
this womb

in dark
and cold undress
ourselves to lie, to sleep,
not knowing of a fasion trend
this tomb

(C)2002, Christos Rigakos