Confirmed · To · Be

It won't fill the void.
It won't properly communicate the longing I feel when your name spins through my mind.
It won't bring you back to me and it won't bring me back to you.

Let me write you one last love song,
where my hands are running through your hair, whispering you french lullabies just to tickle your ears and make you smile that beautiful sweet promise of a smile.
I love you forever and ever.
Je t'aime maintainant et tout le temps.
Kiss me, embrace me, be sweet to me and tease me.
Need me like I need you and forever be the one I wake up to in the morning.
We'll never return to what we were but you're still in my mind and it lets me know
we'll begin again. I believe,
we will begin again.
Find me where I stay and I will hold you until we fade away together.

Let me write you one last love song
while I walk backwards from our happy place.
I walk backwards from the cold car by the river, windows fogging enough so we don't have to worry about the other cars rolling by.
I walk backwards from your bedroom, closet carefully cleared in case we encounter unwanted visitors. Visitors to our home, our place where I never stop touching you cause one moment away is an opportunity lost.
I walk backwards away from your kitchen where I kiss you at the sink. My hands tracing your hips until my arms wrap around you and you tilt your head back to meet my lips. So soft, so gentle, such a perfect love.

I'm entering cold space as I leave you.
It feels like lonely with a dash of independence.
Just let me write you one last love song and confess I'll forever love you, Kate Ackerson.

My cheek graces the nape of her neck while she focuses on her new favorite book. I breathe in her scent while she gently pushes her skin against mine. She smells like cinnamon and hot chocolate, dark flavors as I taste my lover's neck with my lips.
"Isn't it about time we have this talk?" I murmur, regretting my need to speak as I hear the words take her eyes off the page.
"Hm," she purses her lips, tense as usual when change is in the air. Still, she closes her book and turns to meet my paling greens with her blazing ambers. She starts, "I am 16 going on 17..."
How else can I response? "I know that you're naive."

Another time later one.

I sit motionless at my desk, eyes glued to the professor, ears swiftly passing her words to my brain which fills and fills but will never be full. A million other thoughts fit inside and develop and disappear faster than moments. I am a big bowl of collection, my gaze penetrating any blank page, revealing the words locked beneath. Ultimate efficiency, closer to harmony, closer to a Form, all this room to think all these things and still room to understand every single word that big lady says.
Now it's 2am.
Now it's 5am.
Now it's 7:42 am and I haven't closed my eyes without those same thoughts continuing to burst and fade, pounding my heart along with the course of their lifespans.
Give and take, I suppose.
An assignment completed. A night of sleep rendered impossible yet potentially necessary. Nothing learned.

Further on.

Must.
Not must. Just an awareness of the calm she provides.
And I resist, "I miss you so much (plus a long series of apologies for possibly pulling on your heart strings the way a connection to you pulls on mine)"
I miss you sweetly.
I understand our needs with a resolute logic, yet memories of you, real and imagined, help guide me through the tiny daily stresses.
I hope I can do the same for you. I hope you think of me, miss me sweetly but with a resolute logic.


















We will have a new beginning. It will be beautiful and complete.

First Words.
I take myself back to those holy moments as I lay in my bed eyes sliding shut
wanting my hands to be sliding over you again.
Constantly touching so I can be on you,
around you throughout this time that we've been allotted.

The cold metal bars I'm usually rubbing my cheek against become
you,
soft and tan flesh, warm to the touch and
able to be molded around my body as I push deeper into
your sound and your moan and your groan and you are
the best woman in my world and you take over my senses and
demand my attention as if I'm still that leg bopping 12 year old boy I always was before
you turned me into someone who wanted to be a woman,
a man
whatever you were asking for I wanted,
want to be in your arms and
between your legs and
in your head and
on your lips and
beneath your body and
above your chest.

No Take Backs.
I run my life like I'm 50s sock hopping, grocery shopping
gotta check off the next item on the list,
stationary marks my spit spat monophonic speaker life.
I go through my to do list and check off "soulmate".
I hear groans from the audience as my mechanical smile comes off as programmed.
But they don't follow the wire to the outlet that lies behind those wide eyes.
They don't split open my casing to find the complicated tangle that strangles my motherboard.
You do.
You just had that way in your walk, that ease in your eyes, that sharp in your talk and you brought those wires to a fuzzy agreement, they'd work and you'd stay.

So the energy surges like the contract agrees. And I bustle about, flop around and hope to keep your ever growing eyes on me.
Watch me,
tangled and concentrated. Watching you.

Sticky Tongue.
It's always a song I think I'll sing until I realize what I'm saying then I let go.
I let go of whoever they think I am and I realize what I've been saying.
Reputation rolls down my tongue and into my throat and that sweet syrupy sap only balances me out for so long until it's sticking to my tonsils and making me gag.
Gag, gag with that panic of where, where am, am I, you guys, where am I going?
Not going...cause I'm sitting.
But falling, where is this fall leading to?
Rock bottom! Splat finish?
A tunnel?
No light at the end to lead me there.
Just a hand in mine, I look down and examine...
small, sweet, almost child-like...
until she squeezes at this insult and I dive back into those demanding dark ambers.
I'm not a child, she pouts.
And at this, I am home, no longer falling, no longer panicked. Just belonging with the girl who squeezes my hand and insists it's not a big deal.


At Last.
Whip me into shape and scare me because you thrill me, rollar coaster.
I never thought a ride could become my lover, my wife, the girl who never lets go and always keeps me holding on until we're plummeting back down through those heavenly clouds, dangerously close to the ground, to the crash, I'm terrified and yelling over the wind
but you can't hear, so you yell in response.
We hit bottom, we've hit bottom and we start to rise up again.

"I always wanted to go again. You know, it was just so interesting to me that a ride could make me so frightened, so scared, so sick, so excited, and so thrilled all together! Some didn't like it. They went on the merry-go-round. That just goes around. Nothing. I like the roller coaster. You get more out of it."

So many moments with her have been terrifying and sickening and painful and thrilling and lovely and peaceful and electric, and I've loved every fucking second of it. Sometimes we aren't thriving and those are the days that lead me down this wondering cycle, but those are the days that help further contrast when our lives are exploding with brilliant light. She shines into me and brightens up my world in a way I thought only existed in movies, that crazy couple that can never get it right. But here we are, crazy and wild and running out of steam but refilling, refilling as soon as both of us can catch our breath running at top speed once again.
Here I am doubled over, and it looks like you took quite a fall. But still you turn and cast those dark ambers my way and I know, I feel, I inhale that glimmer of hope.
They say if you love something let it go, but I've got my mind on you, even if you tell me it's time to keep my hands in my pockets. I've got that glimmer of hope. And these lungs can survive months with that sweet air.

I never meant to hurt her.
But every day I pay the price.
Every text is in question in my mind.
Every word seems necessary and yet all too suspicious.
Broken, is what she called us. How can you repair what is so...broken.
But I didn't feel broken then, when things are at their worst is what I can handle.
This,
this in between,
this inbetween us or not us or are we okay? Are we okay?
Am I asking that too much?
She says hi and all I'm wondering is what's wrong?
What's wrong? Something must be wrong because in our 21 months something has always been wrong, hasn't it?
Wrong is the only way we know how to be, isn't it?
Wrong is so right, so comfortable for us.
So where are we now?
Is everything okay?
It is.
And that's why I'm scared. Cause I don't know how to do okay.
And neither does she.

I really do have doubts.
Every once in awhile I wonder, am I wrong?
I'll be walking through this new place, have a thought, and then stop,
Is this all for nothing?
Am I going to look back and regret the struggle, regret the effort?
And I always decide, no.
No regrets, the struggle serves to make me happy in the present as well as the future.
But still the moments come, where I wonder
is everything okay?

And just like that, we were free.
She had uncuffed herself from binding chains and been released from her 18 year long jail sentence.
She was in my arms and we were off into the sunset.
Go West, we think. We know what awaits.
A place I've never seen, never been, never experienced before without her.
A place to settle down and hold her until it's as familiar as home.
Then we'll be up again, flying across the world, hands clasped, never breaking ever again.

My heart yearns for California with her.

Something is absolutely perfect.
Something is running through my chest, stroking each rib with a delicate finger making me inhale faster, filling my heart with glee.
I think back to the days I spent ripping papers apart alone in my room.
I think of the wind that used to howl through my open windows, always disturbing my peace and stirring up another self-inflicted riot.
Something has finally come through and calmed the storm and brought the weather to a soft sun lighting my walls and a patter of rain peacefully tapping my window pane.
Something has kissed my lips, tasted my thoughts and continued to thirst.
I reconsider the days I spent pounding my head on my best friend's kitchen table, wondering why I was so mixed up inside.
I remember the nights of reaching into my own body to try and pull out something that would make sense.
Something has brushed my hair and made it all fit.
Something got access to my manual, memorized it all and found the missing part to my mechanic chest.
I lose track of where I am, only knowing I am close to something wonderful.
I lose track of when I am, certain something perfect is waiting for me to open my eyes.
I disregard what I am sitting on, only knowing that something provides me with eternal comfort.
But in all my forgetfulness, I know who I am. Cause something has done an excellent job of teaching me.
I let these feelings well up inside me, so close to bursting until I can simply not resist screaming out--"What is it?" He says, lifting an eyebrow that pulls at the corner of his smile.
"What?" I snap out of my daze and remember I'm riding the bus. I look over this short, squat stranger suddenly invading my personal space.
"You've been grinning at nothing for the last half hour, I just have to ask...what's so great?"
I can't help but let the smile break my face again. I sigh, "You don't know her."

Today I'm enjoying sitting in my big black puddle of pooled depression.
It's soaking in my pores and whispering wild conclusions in my ears.
It's massaging my sore neck and slinging my veins tighter around my throat.
It's an old friend that hasn't called in awhile but still wants to catch up and hear how my kids are doing.
Except I don't have any kids.
And I don't have a wife to blame.
And I decided to leave her back in my past where my friends sat behind the shadows and smiled at my easy decision.
It happened in a second, I cut her out, left her, left her, left,
you said it was right.

See when you cut someone out that you barely know, your life becomes a bit simpler, more of what you already wanted.
See when I cut that someone out that I know down to the beauty mark between her legs, my life veers off and disappears into this big black puddle, more of what I never was and never planned to be.
I'm not asking you to date her, and I'm not even expecting you to see what I see.
But this is my one on one with her and I'd like to take it where her and I would like it to go.
My one on one with you seems to be taking a break because you have other priorities, but that doesn't mean I won't be here the second you look back. I respect where you feel you need to be and I want you there if it makes you happy.
Just like me, where I like to be happy.
So ask me to leave her again. Ask me to walk away from my locked and loaded shot at perfection,
give me another chance to get the fuck out of this puddle and laugh off the moisture all over your naive, confused face.

No call?
How's your life?
Did your girlfriend leave? Or did you leave the girl, just wondering?
Do you cry at night or are you acting tough?
Maybe you should break down, not my place? That's enough.
I'm sorry things suck, I know that's hard to take.
You were great before, you know, before, you know.
Did you know I'm fine?
I'm feeling strong. Something about less drama and a place to belong.
What's that? You're jealous?
Shoulda taken my advice.
Now you're stuck, aren't you? I already knew
you were going downhill long before I came through.
I wished you would leave, for as long as I stayed
but you never really did just kept showing your face.
I stayed calm, knowing one day you'd be gone
but here we are again, barely talking on the phone.

You think
we're fine.
You think
it's mine.
You think
I'm lying.
You think
I'm trying?

Only thing I know is that it sucks to be wrong.
And when you're holding that pen, that's all I hear,
this is black, this is white and suddenly it's clear,
that nothing makes sense, it's just action and consequence
good and bad, how many long term relationships have you had?
I forget, I can't talk, cause each week I walk.
Or maybe she left me, it's easy to forget
especially when this bottle is the only girl I get
in the night when it's dark and there's no blue light to shine,
you think I'm fine? So that's why you don't call...
The girl is mine. So that's why you don't call...
You think I'm lying. So that's why you don't call...
You think I'm trying? So that's why we don't speak.

I wish I could sit down and write the novel series that has become everything you are to me.
There would be more pages than one could read in a year, it would take a lifetime to get it all down.
Even then, after all that time, my word choice would be lacking, my prose would fail to describe that perfect look that blesses your features when my eyes dive into yours.
So instead I cover the barest corner in the mansion of my love for you, because it is all I can get out before I must be touching you, holding you, making love to you and loud with you.
If all I can describe is the curve of your long lashes, then still I will go on and on.
Because that slick, black fan that runs circles around the clearest lake I could ever swim in, is just as heart melting as the rough of your fingers as the run down the curve of my quite white body.
If all I can describe is those dark lashes, brushing out over your cheekbones, the way my hands shake at the opportunity to, I am still conscious of the thumping that quickens in my chest and want that runs up my neck, to my lips.
The way your hands find the sides of my head and suddenly my brain can rest. My eyes fly open and meet your night rimmed dark ambers shining back at me and without words telling me, of course I am safe here. You love me,
even when you blink,
because with eyes closed those eyelashes are my leading road, sliding me towards those windows to your last smiling thought.
And when your contact finally returns I cannot remember where I am besides two inches away from the woman I love.
And as those curtains draw to a close and you wonder, Forever?
I let the feeling overwhelm me as I know, Forever.

I could be tired.
Because it starts at my fingers and on the insides of my eyes.
I stare a little longer than usual, and my twitching slows down bit by bit.
It creeps over my body and at first I wonder, what is this paralyzing sensation?
Surely something is taking over my brain and leaving me helpless.
The panic fades as does the worry and the fear.
Because now I just realize I am utterly at peace,
relaxed, and drifting down a hopeful river towards a world of dreams where birds sing,
anything is possible.
I could be tired,
or I could be in love with you.

And this is what love feels like.
And this is what knowing I've found my forever feels like.
Every dream I can anticipate is complete with your presence.
I need not ask you for this future, because I know it's already been written across our hearts,
neither of us have the power to change what binds us.
So I know
I will always love you.
Come what may.

This mess cannot be organized. And yet it cannot be ignored.
Full push away and maybe we're finally looking eye to eye and you realize I'm not so shiny at this level.
You have chemistry with everyone, who am I kidding when I say I'm something special?
And worse, I'm not even acting the part. I flop and I flail and you sit there with one eyebrow raised wondering, what are you wondering anyways?
Probably why you're still watching me,
probably why I even rank on your charts,
probably why you haven't saved yourself from this ticking time bomb.
Nothing I can do will make a difference, and I feel trapped under your disappointed thumb.
Throw me away and mark me as a big fat first mistake, you were young, you were naive, you didn't know to avoid broken people and search for the best.
I'll just strip my way through this alley, emptying my soul on the pavement for whoever wants to have a go for just 10 cents and 8 months of their time.
I wasn't built for a normal love. I don't know how to have dinner then walk through the park, uninterrupted by drama and fear. You provide me one night of normalcy and now you know my true colors. How can we ever be happy if I can only do dysfunctional?
Well, I know how you can be happy...but that wouldn't involve me.

A date! I wait, dressed up and hoping to impress.
I know he's on his way with a text that says "coming".
I'm bouncing. Anxious. But my heart stirs, warning me
that warning, that my brain and heart aren't lining up.
The car pulls into the driveway before I see it, the text is what alerts me,
"here". #1
I grab my purse and rush out to meet him! I watch a smile grace his gorgeous face while I approach the passenger door. *1
Roses await me. *2
He stares away as I open the door and pick up the bouquet, placed where I will sit. #2
I inhale deeply and quickly turn the present so I cannot see the price tag. #3
We pull out of the driveway with quick hellos. #4
He pumps the gas pedal and the engine roars, I flinch as we speed down my tiny side street. #5
We drive and he tells me stories about his day. I smell my roses and share a story of my own. Having no where to put them, I throw my roses in his trunk. #6
He drops me off to race home and take care of the lies he must tell his family.
I wander alone for forty five minutes. #7
He returns to pick me up and we stop to get gas. I wait as he pumps. #8
We're on the highway now. Our silence sits in the backseat and watches us both with slitted eyes. It reaches out its slender fingers and brushes the back of my neck, causing my back to tense as I face the window. We pull off the road and arrive at a hometown restaurant in a town different than our own. We both step out of the car and make our way to the door.
He opens it for me. *3
We eat, we laugh, we bicker.
We fight as we pay the check. #9
Now we leave and he takes my hand. *4
We get back in the car and kiss. #10
We think of what to do. I suggest the park and after considering the risk, he agrees. We're on the road again. Silence accompanies us, until he suggests with peaking excitement, my sister. #11
I reject it at first but then find a compromise, we'll stop by after. We're almost at the park. We laugh as we drive. *5
We stroll through the rose bushes and finally find a seat on the soft grass, our bodies melding together like plants as people walk by observing our blossoms and leaves. *6
He encourages me to text my sister and I finally do. We plan to stop by after the park.
Fast forward, we're back at my house after bringing my sister home. He challenges me to a game of checkers. We play, he wins. We go off on our own to entwine once again on the couch in front of the TV. I want to watch a movie, he refuses despite my excitement. #12
We decide to watch a movie already playing on TV. We can't agree. I want to show him this, he wants to rewatch that. I hate that movie, he gasps out of the thrill. #13
We finally compromise. I relax and rest in his arms. He begins to kiss my cheek. Slowly, then more as he heads down my neck and back near my ears. His hand moves up my thigh to find rest beneath the tuck of my shorts. I blink back tears and push his hand back. 6-13? The answer is no.


I look from hand to hand after he has left, wondering who's at fault. I can pick apart the simplest situation and as I gaze in the mirror, my eyes follow the cracks. But still I can spot the million "however"s dotting my skin more frequently than my freckles.
And he says, "I'm a girl. I need to be romanced."
And I wonder, "Do I do it differently? Do I falter now because I'm not the one driving the show?"

I was your girl tonight and you were rough.
You were my lover and I was your friend.
We were in public, yet your love waited for privacy.
Perhaps your energy gets used up in the lies you weave just to see me...and none is left for romance.

And you'll take my disappointment as rejection instead of what it is. Hunger.

Ripped away.
Blood and tear because my heart was too high in the clouds to be considered meat.
So she stabs.
And I'm that kind of sorry that only feels necessary.
Think of the obvious first.
THINK OF THE OBVIOUS FIRST.
One mistake, two mistake
BLOOD AND GUTS.
Now stab, because I ruined your night.
Now punch, because I ruined my chance.
Throw the worst in my face and leave before you see me shrivel up,
unsure whether to fight back or just cry.
Either way, FUCKING OW.
You know what I do when you are distracted by something? I say hey! Stop being distracted!
Problem solved.
You know what you do? You refuse to speak to me and only make little bitch noises.
Learn to talk about what makes you mad so I can stop and it doesn't have to blow up like this!
I love reading your mind but sometimes I don't.
So just talk!

I want to go on a date with you MORE THAN FUCKING ANYTHING ELSE AND IF I HAD ONLY KNOWN I WOULD HAVE LEFT MY DAY PLANS AS SOON AS YOU THOUGHT OF THE IDEA AND FUCKING RAN TO YOUR FEET ONLY SO I COULD BE ASKED. YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND. YOU DON'T GET HOW FUCKING IMPORTANT THAT IS TO ME. ALL I'VE EVER FUCKING WANTED IS YOU ON A DATE AND YOU TELL ME I RUINED IT. I ruined it.

The sunlight shines upon a wonderful relationship.
I can wrap my body around yours as we let our skin soak up the summer heat.
We're perfect in every dysfunctional way as long as the sun is shining.
Then the temperature drops,
you're alone in your room and wondering, what am I doing.
Here I am, waiting, hoping you're still in love with me when we wake up.
Not in love, in like. Please like me.
Please don't leave me, I worry and fret.
Each step calculated, each word emphasized.
I watch my actions, praying they are all to your liking.
Forcing myself to not hold back foul moods, knowing you can't hear another lie, unsure if my temper has the ability to push you away permanently.
Here I tread, in deep dark waters,
the same ones we splash in gleefully while the sky is bright,
but in darkness I am always fighting for my spot, fighting for the trust I lost, fighting to hear you smile from miles away.
I don't think you will stay. I think you want to go. At least, a part of you does.
And no matter how quiet you keep those thoughts, they scream out to me in the darkness,
and I know, you can't sleep either.

So many times I've watched you fall from my grasp and smash into a million pieces.
So many times I've gathered you again in my hands, calling you repaired and pronouncing you fixed.
So many times I've held you over my head crying tears of joy hoping life can't get any better.

You are my love. Not just you, I mean us.
Us is so strong and cemented in my chest.
When you say bye, am I really losing you?
Maybe all this dropping and repairing has weakened us to the point of a crumbled mess of diamond dust...

Or maybe,
I can take it now. Maybe my strength strings from one end to the next beginning because something like faith has filled our cracks and the more we fall the more room there is for faith.
Faith and strength.
Still growing and being tested, but I have the strength to step back and wait. And I have the faith to know I'll hold you again.

I won't be breaking your trust. You ask me to fall silent I will.
But the day you allow me to unlock my lips and I'll be streaking down the street, gripping your hand, promising you flowers on one knee before our friends and our families.
I know you're still here.
I know you're still here.
I'm not lost without you, cause I'm not without,
you, and I are still together.
I should stop asking you out because the moment you head falls and your back arches I know you're screaming yes.
I love you and as I write I feel the strength coursing through my arms, the faith filling my shell of a corpse.
Soon, fate whispers in my ear.
Soon and with all the patience you know you have, she doesn't need to promise.
She smoothes my ruffled hair with faith.

Pounding in my chest because I can feel her inching away.
My mess, my blood splattered sidewalk has soaked all her clothing red.
And she can't just change outfits and forget the pain I've caused her.
So she's inching away, facing me but her hand sticks out behind her searching for the doorknob.
I tense and watch, hoping silent breath will keep her here.
I hold in my scream, knowing getting defensive will only quicken her pace.
I handcuff myself and spread my legs, wondering if my body can make her forget.
But she's on her way out. And all I can do is watch.

Look in the mirror and convince myself, I deserve this. She wants out.


But I can't pretend.
I'm terrified.
Who needs what and what do we want?

Brains scattered but please, baby, don't leave me.
Please don't go.
I need you.
I'm killing you.
Please stay with me.
You want out.
I'll crumble without you.
I'm being selfish.
I need another chance.
It's not the present that matters.
Can't you see we're happy?
Who's happy?
Me.
Selfish.
Her?
Delusional.


If you love her, you'll let her go.
Yet another honorable thing I plan to fail at.

It's not anger, it's a slow slide towards abandon.
Wow, cry about it and be a bitch.
Watch the one person who shines fade because you have fat, greedy hands.
So cut them off.
Be very alone tonight and find your forever in that accidental slice.
I can't look at tomorrow, she's not there and I am fucking weak.
Shaking, "oh baby I'm shaking" because I am fucking weak and I can't, can't, can't.
I shouldn't fall like this.
I shouldn't fall like weak, weak, weekly.
There's nothing to realize. There's only staying blank until July.

Pah fucking thetic.

I've been alone before.
I've waited for her before.
But never before, have I fallen to my already bruised knees and begged for her.
Not like this.
Alone like this,
But I've been alone before.
I've lost her before.
I've spent weeks hating myself,
but never before, have I given up.
I have no more resources, no more pleas.
I have desires, sure, but my desires are for her, alone,
yeah I'm alone, but she seems to need this. And as much as I'd love to begin forever tonight, she's leaving me.
She's leaving me unlike anytime before.

Maybe she finally figured out she can do better.
It broke across her face like that beautiful smile so often does.
She saw some sort of light and it shone upon my crumpled, pathetic figure and she realized how my heart beats at the drum of her fingers.

Maybe she's lost, like me.
Maybe I'm her true love, like she's mine, but I broke her heart anyways and she can see how unforgivable I finally am.

Tonight I understand why my friends don't bother me with questions anymore.
Tonight I understand why I lose the ones I love.
Tonight I understand why that mirrored reflection filled with self confidence always felt a little forced.
But I'll never understand her walking away. Not because my brain can't stretch, but because understanding that would open up a world of hurt too big to handle.

But I've been alone before, right?
Keep it simple, fall asleep.
Welcome back, old friend. I've been full for so long and now it's time to drain myself.

And swing.
Just like that.
She either whispers magic or states fact.
So I reach up and stretch my fists to the ceiling wondering,
magic in my chest or statement of fact.
Fact,
seems bland, unlike you.
Seems so lacking in mystery or shade, unlike your dark-lined eyes and tousled hair.
So magic,
seems so extreme.
So far beyond my control, where I like my life, in my control.
same serious,
misdemeanor, where I say whoops.
By accident things slip and fall and I wonder, magic and fact.
Seems to split, up, again? Again.
Boom and swing.
Just like that.
So randomly routine, she leaves again with the screen door reflecting her last break up note onto my chest.
Broken chest, seems so accidental every week.
Questioning things? Nah. Just wondering, magic and fact, once again
like everyone else.
Like everyone else, something we will never be, never have been, never wanted to be.
Except on Fridays.
Or every other Friday.
Beyond rejection, imperfection, there's a rhyme I haven't hear in awhile!
I mean long time.
Forget it, just leave her behind.
So I can move onto, lies.
Don't even finish those kinds of sentences,
it's not fear it's just me being fed up with the same old,
here we are convince myself of change.
Or just freaking RE LAX. They all sigh the same story.
Calm down.
It's almost Friday.
"Soo...you want to go to bed or just think about things for a bit?"
FORCE IT THROUGH MY TEETH WHEN I SIT AN INCH AWAY FROM A BLACK TV SCREEN WONDERING WHERE THE COLOR IS.
Oh wait, right behind me.
Just freaking RE LAX.
Same seriously?
Same story.

Not done.


Nothing to say, nothing to wear, nothing to do.
And I complain. Knife away, and bullets begin.
Here she comes SCREAMING WHERE DID we leave it again?
NO, not again. oh god, please not again.
Again, and again, and again.
Not up or down just again? Really?
Same seriously.

Bright lights at both ends of this dark and damp tunnel.
I hear dripping and feel the cold drop of salt water run along my shoulder and down my arm.
Bright lights shining too harshly against my pale skin, lighting up my dark space where I just want to crouch and hide and wonder what lies at each end.
I can hear your foot steps fading, don't think they're not ringing loudly in my ears as I cross my fingers hoping the echo will continue to vibrate and you won't stray too far.
But before I can squeeze my eyes shut for that extra ounce of hope, I have lost you.
I have lost you, my little fading light.
My electronic heart starter.
My sweet and beautiful, baby girl, wonderful touch, smile across and hold.
I have lost.
So I'll just rub my leg against this concrete piping until something like a feeling breaks my skin and reminds me why I don't leave my tunnel.
My heart is tired. I am worn out. I am drained and fucking exhausted and I'm so sick of this life. THIS life. In this dripping, disgusting, dirty tunnel where I can't be happy because I can't fucking see. So open my eyes. Wrench them open and bust through my chest like before. I want to feel my heart spastic and BEAT. I want to feel pain and pleasure and wonder how could I be more alive?
Electrocute me. I want to scream I want to cry I want to be on fire I want to destroy myself so I can be born again I want to destroy myself, destroy myself, destroy.
Peel my skin from my muscles and run. Terrify me on the way and pull my bones apart.
I cannot feel with this body.
No longer am I touching my surroundings.
Numb is too descriptive a word.
Blank is too emotional.

Here, in my old town, where the green of the leaves used to smile in the wind,
tickling my brown hair across my shoulders.
Here, in my old town, where the sun used to shimmer down from the sky and kiss me with a wink on each freckle spotting my cheeks.
In my old town, where now the green of the leaves fades and forgets to acknowledge my "long time no see" presence.
In my old town, where now the sun is harsh and burns me like any other pale, crawling creature.
It's not 2am yet so I won't begin to place blame.
I'll just watch my fingers twitch and fail to explain the lack of excitement that now leaves my eyes dull green and my smile harsh and indifferent.
I'm bored in the mirror wondering, where the hell am I if not here?
In my old town.
And as you threaten to take it all away, this old town, these dull leaves, that glaring sun, I wonder, why hold on if I plan to leave it all behind anyway?
I want to care, but I don't.
I want to only need your touch, but I don't.
I want to snuggle beneath your bedroom sheets on a summer night and know only your lips brushing mine, but I feel
nothing.
Just like yesterday when I felt nothing.
And tomorrow when I will feel nothing.

And the girls in the changing room take off their bras and stare at each other,
with grins disguised as passionate; they claim it's the other girls who are empty.
But aren't we all just bending around that silver pole waiting for green to appear at the edge, uncaring as to the hand attached to the arm attached to the body attached to the face that grins and maybe,
maybe he feels passionate.
But I don't.
I realized there's only so much in me.
And every night I have to sacrifice a little bit of juice to obtain a little more green.
And every night I lose what could surely fill the void between you and I.
Does my dispassion line up with my surroundings, this old town?
Does my dispassion line up with my impulses, what would happen if I kissed you?
Does my dispassion line up with my nighttime glitter, so very glamorous from that side of the camera?

I remember being empty before these events aligned.
I remember being empty for years.
But I remember being filled by your touch, your eyes, your words, your love and thinking here we go I'm going to hold onto her until the day I am drained.
And I did.

I turn my back to Simone as she sharpens her cursed knife.
I shiver and hope that somewhere out there a blue light will shine and warm my freezing body.
I can see it now, reflecting off of Simone's knife right into my dull green eyes.
I long to reach for it, to let it absorb me because I need it's comfort.
BLUE LIGHT, here I am trapped and all you can do is reflect at me.
BLUE LIGHT, here I am freezing and all you can do is remind me what warm felt like.
BLUE LIGHT, I know I deserve this and I now appreciate the pain.
Cellar doors and cold concrete.
The ash of burned photographs blankets the dirty floor and covers my naked feet.
Simone is cackling and I am weeping.

Pushing myself up, I decide enough is ENOUGH.
I turn to face the blue light, BLUE LIGHT
and I faint.
Goodnight.

I can't be up late texting you.
It hurts like someone removing my stomach through my bellybutton.
It's like I'm losing you again with each text you send and each time I resist the urge to ask you how your boyfriend is doing.
I'm so glad you're texting me with your problems.
Really, but are you texting him too?
Maybe sending out forwards because our conversation is following the same lines?
Or does he not give as good advice as I do?
You're here to cash in on my good words and then run back to him and let him reap the benefits of your improved mood?

Karma is a bitch but at least I don't know how good it feels to kiss her.

My flip flopping grinds to a halt
cause my opinion no longer matters.
You're going home with someone else now.
You'll drive to his house for sleepovers and you'll hold his hand during movies.
You'll be wondering when that sweeping feeling with associate with his face until one day
when it does.
He'll take you out on romantic dates and meet your parents face to face.
They'll love him and they'll smile at you.
And you'll smile back knowing you're finally safe.

I should be happy.
I was happy.

Coming out of shock I'm sure the logic will return.
She upsets me often, too often to be happy about.
Coming out of shock I'm sure my heart rate will slow.

I know she still loves me and I know she still cares.
I know I will always be special to her like she's still so special to me.
But as I quote these logical thoughts my heart is leaking out onto my tongue,
where the taste is poisoning my body and I can't begin to control my insides.
You won't hear from me because the sound will be unrecognizable.
You won't see me because I will be disfigured.
You won't love me because I won't let you.

Panic, panic.
And the shakes come back.
Only in my forearms and eyelids.
Does it count as tears if I want to rip my face off?
Fucking panic.
It doesn't have to be logical.
It doesn't have to be sane.
Because I wish you away.
I wish you, a pointless mess.
I wished for you 4 times, with each flower I wished for another magic way to hold you and kiss you again.
I wished for you 4 times and never told you.
Yet it still didn't come true.
I followed the rules and it still didn't come true.

This is me in shock and I thought everything was going to shine.
I thought something wonderful and save SAVE my life would happen.
But it's not just black, it's burnt.
Crisp and I can smell it roasting.
I don't know if Amy will be enough because I'll be packing 2 years ago punch to this one.
Say Anything, makes it seem like my bathroom floor is the only girl who touches me right
and maybe she is.
Cause her cold linoleum is way more comfort than you'll be giving me.
Giving him.
As close to me as you could swing your sword and the best boy was 2 streets away, right?
In shock and stiff. Stiffened like a bird before flight,
across the ocean, I've got a long way to go before I'm long gone from here.
But three knives through the wrist should do the trick when the only thing left to cry is
MY FAULT AND NOT ONLY DID I HAVE IT COMING BUT I ASKED FOR IT.
Alcohol and all those sweet self-promises only turned into a one way mirror with all her pain bouncing back to it's rightful owner.
I'm absorbing everything I can but like some kind of heartless bucket I overfill before the mop is even clean.
So three knives through the wrist just for old time sake? Or is this a new era?
With a tiger's claws falling through the skin on my back cause you were huge, baby,
in case you couldn't see your impact upon entering a room with a doorway a hundred feet from me.
All I was wondering is how to be innocent but you were diving into a pool of
someone else. Not just someone else.
SOME ONE ELSE. To make my stomach curl, something I didn't know it could do.
No, I'm just stunned.
Taken aback.
In shock.
Waiting for the calm of logic to kick in...







logic says: shove it down. she should be happy. that involves you being quiet.





Finally, a cage.

All Night my phone is silent. I know...cause,
I check.
Ever-E Five Minutes.
No blue shine and I'm thinking of You.
Wishing your words were the ones marking up my screen.
My empty screen just like this empty page.
As tired as I am,
yawn, stretch and FLIP!
I am giggling out of pure joy that I spent one fantastic day in JOY and you.
I know my laughs sound out as a cruel cackle to bystanders.
But here, secret inside my rotting mess, I am in tickled ecstasy.
My eyelids are closing just to continue this warming of a self-hug.
You, my joy, have graced me again.
And I'm not in love with you this time,
but I can feel the radiating infatuation that bursts in my stomach when you tilt your head and I watch your profile, SHINE to MARVEL.
Dance to SHOCK this frozen cold mind to plot.
I've got wicked ideas that will not become actions.
I've got evil plans that cannot be put in motion.
I want things beyond my reach so I can feel things like
YOU!
Is there any other way to put it?
YOU!
Wash me away and stare down into my throat because I say "ahh" and it sounds like,
EX
HILL
AHHH
RAYYTINNG.

And I'm breathing!

And the urge to drape you back,
hair falls and exposes your cinnamon neck.
My comfort zone where I bite to calm our nerves.

Everything you could do for me physically
you cannot do for me mentally.
If only you'd leave it all behind.
Your immaturity.
Your anger.
Your friends.
Your impatience.
Your...
you're really amazing.
But not for me.
You must go thrill someone else.
Let your nerves grow back and watch someone else shock you into excitement.
It's going to be as amazing as you are.
I will always love you.
I will always want you in my life.
But not til it's all behind us.

I want to freak out.
Cause I want attention.
More so, I want yours.
Yours, a bad decision.
Your body pressing against mine, connected by our lips, after your word.
Or should I say, "Soooo..?"
And my gut clenches, a bad decision.
It's not a matter of trying, because we both know what I'd like to try.
It's a matter of: something is right, this is wrong.
It's a matter of: what is fair, what will leave you covered in blood screaming outside my bedroom door.
But now I'm boiling.
I want to freak out because I have your attention.
I could
take
advantage.

I have the advantage...
how much more can I take?

She still shines.
Like something else.
Like someone else's woman.
I can't have.
I can't take someone else's woman.

I want you when my eyes are closing, when my body's slowing, when the light is fading.
But I don't want you all the time.
You terrify me.
The way a mother terrifies a child with those words, "We're going to have a talk."
And my gut clenches before I make bad decisions.
You shine like a brilliant mistake I could make.
I will not make.
I will not make you keep crying because I keep hurting you.
I will not make myself tense and pound any more walls.
I will not be able to make you feel better.
I will not be able to make myself jump,
Ledge.
You shine blue now like the sky beyond this cliff.
And I'm sure you sparkle and your wind would feel marvelous right up until the
crash.

I'm afraid of myself.
I never knew who I was until...I'm alone.
And I fail, a lot.
Not in a pretty way, with one scrap across my knee and everyone still smiling with love
but in a MESS MESS way, with blood on my hands and uglyness pouring down upon me.
"Just stop making bad decisions."
Seems simple enough,
yet I don't.
Have I drowned the amazing rationalization that used to justify everything I did?
Did the alcohol sweep that away along with my memories?
Now I just do.
No thinking.
And I can't even look back and understand my own actions.
He looks at me with squinted eyes, shakes his head and asks, "How could you?"
And I don't have one answer.
I don't know myself.

I don't know myself and that creates a recklessness that I want caged.
I want to be caged again. Caged with iron bars and watched with open eyes.
I'm afraid of myself.
I am scared.

I smile when I see you.
Maybe I laugh and look away.
CAUSE I'M A FUCKING IDIOT.
I act casual.
Act, act ACK ACK.
Know my insides boil, and your presence is a temptation I still can't handle.
Your face and your eyes strike into me and seize me into a fit of "remember when she was walking towards me in her mothers kitchen and all I could think was..."
I have to act around you.
I have to force casual around you.
You're the girl that reached inside my body and squeezed my heart into something recognizable.
But I held you down.
No, I act.
I want to be your perfect.
I want to be your man.
But I failed.

Everything is fading to gray.
I reach out my hand to brush fake nails against a strangers skin and I wonder where the color has gone.
I look in the mirror to apply fake eyelashes and I notice the red of my lips fades, the green of my eyes pale, and my freckles adjust to black.
I wonder what my heart looks like,
if it's turning gray as well.
I wonder if you know you're on my mind.
Not every night,
just the ones where I wish I had my someone back in my arms,
to hold me and kiss me and giggle when I smile at her.
Not every night,
just the ones where I miss your text that reads
"something could be anything as long as" it's your words.
I miss your voice.
I miss reaching for you and best of all,
getting to touch you.
Getting to make you moan, getting to pleasure you.
I miss you wondering about my day.


Not every night,
just the ones that dull and I miss your shine.

Understand that I wasn't lying.
Please.
If you hate me, okay.
If you want me dead, okay.
If you ignore me forever...
Just remember I wasn't lying.
I will love you forever.
I will miss you forever.
I will wonder what you're looking at, wonder who you're with, wonder what you're feeling until I can't wonder anymore.
I want to be sweet to you again.
I want to know who I am again.


I hate what I do to people. Everything is fading.

"Probably shouldn't" is whistling through her ears as she eyes that hot stove top.
"Nothing good will come of this" is clinging to her back, watching over her shoulder as her arm extends.
If a patch of skin isn't designed to burn, then why does fire take so well?
If lovers are meant to fall into each other's arms, then why do I find mine 6 feet under, covered in blood?
Is it the fear trilling on my nerves that makes your dull eyes exciting?
Or is it that I probably shouldn't.
And I know nothing good will come of this.

I'm bouncing. My thighs bounce with each beat of my heart. My fingernails click the wooden desk, as impatient as I am to no longer be in class. I stare down at my nails and watch them tick and tick many beats ahead of the clock. I close my eyes and watch my fingernails graze across his skin then dig into his shoulders as I bounce. I can feel my hair swinging down to the middle of my back. I can feel his fingertips on my waist, tightening to pull my hips down harder and once again HARDER! I snap back and dig my pen into the paper. The professor is mumbling and pointing to a slide that says, there's no way I can focus on this class when I know my chances increase tenfold when it ends. My fingernails begin their clicking dance once again and I can hear him breathing on my neck telling me he likes the feeling of me leaning back, my nails on his skin. I like the feeling of his eyes sliding open just a crack to watch me bounce, followed by that slow gleeful smile. My legs bounce against the desk. My heart is beating faster in my chest. His fingertips on my waist to pull my hips down FASTER. His encouraging breath getting FASTER. My moans getting LOUDER. This class couldn't go any SLOWER.

And there's a thump in my silent chest.
Where I rested for weeks now I start to twitch and wonder.
Am I still alive?
Because I think I am.
And it feels good.
I think I can twist again and jump again.
I think I can fit myself exactly in the place I want to be.
And I think I'm good at it.
I watch myself in mirrors and see a bounce when I step.
I check my reflection and notice laugh lines creasing and
eye brow furrow lines smoothing.
No more reciting rules.
No more following footsteps.
Just jumping and thumping and LIVING!

It burns to know.
It really really hurts to feel his touch on your skin.
Our skin, no longer my skin.
Your skin.
It burns.

But you're not hurting from it.
You seem to like it.
So I should...smile about it?
Bow my head about it?
Let you think I never loved you?

I want to call you in denial for your own protection
but I want you to stay safe.
I want to widen your eyes and show you the facts:
I love you
I loved you
I always will.
But I don't want it to burn like it burns me.

I haven't been pleasured by anyone else, Kate.

Tarnish everything you KNEW AND KNOW about me, just to make yourself feel safe.
Throw my eyes, my touch, my words down the drain because you want the image of a black, harden, fire burning witch.
I'm not awful.
I'm looking for peace.
I'm looking for growth.
And we were stagnant under a mountain of stress.
It's understandable
but it wasn't acceptable.
I can feel your words of hate radiating through my walls and I try to be comforted knowing you still care, yet I can't help but see you lyinf to yourself and want to turn around and say,
baby don't be like my exes. Know me and remember me. YOU are not like THEM, still. You still shine for me. I want your touch, YOU forever. But I know there's got to be space between the us now and the future us. Just because I'm not texting you does not mean I am leaving you alone. Be safe however you need to be safe.
But know what's burning.