By The Book

A prelude to our love.

Coincidence and apathy turns to desire and “I need you.”

Autumn turns to Winter and the fire feels so right under our fingertips, doesn’t it?

Your smile is still all there. My heart still beats. The snow still falls.

Things are good and we haven’t quite yet gotten to the part where you couldn’t do anything but lie through your teeth.

Spring arrives and I leave for 2 months and you go seemingly unfazed. The flowers are beautiful and every sunset reminds me of you.

Spring turns into summer and you decide to give me another chance, a real one this time.

And before summer even gets its chance to shine, I’ve messed everything up. And I’m sorry.

But “sorry” is a word you don’t want to hear from me anymore. You say it’s started to sound like a confession, like I’m on trial and you’re the judge. I promised you I’d stop.

It’s the beginning of Autumn when he comes into the story. He is fresh, he is regular, he is something new to try. And so you let him in. I am nothing now, just a minor character.

It’s well into Autumn when he allows his fingers to trace the soft pale skin below your dress.

The first time you say, that was exciting.

But I want to slap him across the face. What was he thinking?

The second time, you don’t tell me about until months later. The second time you say, wasn’t so fun. In fact, it’s ruined you. He’s ruined you. I want to slit his fucking throat. And I would have.

But it couldn’t have fixed you.

This is the part where the lies come in. Where you only tell me bits and pieces of things when you decide to tell me at all. Where you start hurting yourself and stop going out at night. Where you won’t let me do a goddamn thing. Where I ruin myself because I let him ruin you.

Autumn turns to winter and suddenly the fire is so scary, isn’t it?

I haven’t seen your smile in months, I feel only empty space where my heart should be. Will there be any snow at all this year?


A Silhouette That Isn’t In Your Head

“I wonder what it’s like to love you.” You say as we’re lying in my bed.

“I wouldn’t know,” I say, “I don’t think anybody ever has.”

And you give me a pitiful smile, the kind you always give when I

say something so negative about myself.

I guess I’m glad I’ve come to think of it as ‘commitment’ rather than ‘pity’.

I’ve let myself drown in you. I let myself become lost in your lifeless eyes

and I’m filled with regrets but I don’t regret a thing. Maybe I Regret Breathing.

You’ll let my ghost linger, just for awhile longer. You’ll let me be real to you.

And as I feel the smoothness of your silk black hair in my hands, I wonder

if I’ve ever really loved you or if I just loved how in love we could have been.

Someone That Loves You

My words don’t seem to reflect reality very well. Nothing I can write would be enough.

A journey is nothing without some good company. And good company seems to impossible to find, at least it is if I want them right next to me. But barriers always come in between.

But when we ourselves become the barriers, it seems to lead to the greatest pain.

When something good comes along, it cannot stay. I’ve had to learn this in an all too honest way.

I just wish she’d realize how much I love her, and how I’m not the only one. It almost makes me angry, all the love she gets, but can never acknowledge. Who did this to her?

Blind Willow

My first thought after we’d gone separate ways was “I need to look good.” I need to look the best I can.  I never tried to look my best around you, not even on dates, because you didn’t like fancy places like I did. You thought I was beautiful no matter what. But after that day, I woke up early every morning, picked out a matching outfit, did my skincare routine, put on some makeup. I took care of myself. It was such a huge step, in my eyes. But I had this feeling deep inside of me that told me I’d collapse soon, that the weight of losing something that held such a large space in my heart and mind, would soon knock me over and it would be incredibly hard to get back up.

It seems for once I was right.


At the thought of you, all I can taste is blood. It feels like a hundred punches to the gut even though you’re not there. My nights go by sleepless, me pulling my hair out and shaking uncontrollably. But I don’t miss you. I miss what things could have been. I miss being able to imagine a future in which I’m at least a bit content and where I’m treated properly. I can’t see anything past tomorrow, though. I can’t see much without you here either. You decide why that is.

Maybe This Place Is The Same And I’m Just Changing

It seems no matter how much I want this change, it can’t be brought about.

I often expect things to change in the blink of an eye, while at the same time realizing everything takes time. There won’t be some far out spiritual awakening as I often used to imagine. Baby steps are crucial, I’ve realized. I can get rid of everything that reminds me of the past, but if I do it too soon or at the wrong time, I worry it won’t change a thing. But is waiting still suitable? Or do I need to be the one to spark the fire? I don’t want to burn away the past, but I hope the time comes soon when I’ll be able to learn from it. Instead of dreading every act, regretting every word spoken that I once did – I must recognize my place and try my hardest not to let history repeat itself. The question is how? And when?

Winter Bird

Can you feel my heart?

Can you feel the suffocating pull

Of a love unanswered; unneeded?

If your love was a star

It would be the one hanging

Right above my bed;

Only slightly over my head.

If prayers go unnoticed

And leaves refuse to fall

I’ll wait for the day

You can become the sun.