i have dreams
sometimes
and in them
i'm nailed to a cross
and i have died
there's so much blood
and my eyes
are gouged out
with rosaries
sometimes
it's you and me
alone
and i lose my innocence
over and over
until i'm screaming
and i ***** my lungs up
when i look at the dream you
your face is expressionless
and void of love
i never wake up

afraid
afraid of what she could do
afraid of who she could be
shutting off and powering down
only to see what she closed her eyes to avoid

he brings me peace
wrapped up in love
his love is tender sweet
we fit together as hand in glove

he knows just such
to soothe me right
and when I need his touch
to be strong with might

he found me blue
bruised petals torn
knew what to say and do
to chase away my forlorn

he has ruined me now
for any other ever
with the love he endows
a bond too strong to sever

he is more than a good man
my respect for him grows
depend upon him I can
as he can me he knows

the love he gives is so good
forever my heart his to keep
at last love manifest as it should
forever I am his little meep

© J.C.

You used to date someone who expresses her love for you in
secret love letters,
in far-away stares,
and in closed doors.

You used to settle
for kisses behind curtains,
attachments on empty hallways,
and memories being hidden.

Until you met me
in broad daylight,
in sunny days,
and blue skies.

Until I made you realize that
you are not meant
to be locked
in darkness.

You are meant to be free—
in colours,
in sunshine,
out there.

His face
The sight brings a smile to yours
His eyes
You can stare into them forever
His lips
You wish you can kiss them
His hands
You wish you can intertwine them with yours
His mind
It intrigues you
His soul
You can love it for eternity
His heart
It doesn't belong to you

Life
                                                            ­    has
            a
                       funny
     way
                                           of
                                  
                                ruining

      
                                                      Lives.

you never asked to read my poetry
maybe that was the sign.
i told you i wrote for fun,
you shrugged and moved on.

i don't like to cry in public
but the numbness after is worth the shame