the mid-morning tea
burning my tongue
when i haven't burned for anything
in years.
the cherry-blossoms
lining my street
fearlessly unfolding
to the world.
the moon
pouring into my window
to reveal something different of herself
each night.
the currents
coursing through my bedside lamp
when all i know is how to be
static.
S.
i find loss comes the hardest when forgotten
for a moment, for a time
and then i reach for where you ought to be
with words i ought to say and find you
nowhere
i can't use fancy words to dress this up
i don't know how
i don't know how
i don't know how
S.
i'm not sure what it was in your life that made you feel that
you had to shout to be heard
and only violent hands could get your point across
i'm not sure what made you think of manipulation as
the only way to get what you're after
and faux-kindness something you can sell to the highest bidder (for a time)
somewhere in life you mastered the one-sided argument
and learned to twist words till they sound nothing the same as
when they came out
your voice became a siren in my nightmares
and i used to hear it right before i feel asleep, then re-awaken
heart pounding
and even after i got out, making sure i'd never cross your path again
even then i'd peek around corners and speak in hushed tones
and hold my breath when the phone would pierce through the silence
S.
One day I plan to tell you how I really felt feel about you, without the wordplay and best guesses. One day I plan to spell it all out in a language we can both speak and comprehend.
You will know that day is here when my heart is bleeding onto everything I touch. When my skin is all but screaming to be wrapped up in your arms.When my every bone quakes at the sound of your voice.
(Or am I back to wordplay?)
You will know it is that day because it will sounds like this: I loved love you.
I love you, dammit.
S.
Everyone who terrifies you is sixty-five percent water.
And everyone you love is made of stardust, and I know sometimes
you cannot even breathe deeply, and
the night sky is no home, and
you have cried yourself to sleep enough times
that you are down to your last two percent, but
nothing is infinite,
not even loss.
You are made of the sea and the stars, and one day
you are going to find yourself again.
by Finn Butler
I had a glass or two, just to take the edge off
And it worked for a while
But morning comes early on late nights alone
No one knows better than I do.
I chased you down with deep red wine
And still you bubbled to the top
Making me regret every sea-parting kiss
And the nights we forgot about gravity.
People have written novels and plays -
About the way your voice sounds in the dark
And where they went to get theirs back -
And I'm beginning to realize they've been healing me (slowly).
So forgive me for reaching for their words
Instead of picking up the phone
This time.
S.
"Women like me do not fall gracefully,
we stumble over our spines, trip over
our vowels, and collapse into your arms.
Our hearts are open books,
Russian novels containing fifty pages
on the way your voice drifts across
the telephone wires each night.
Our hearts are first drafts,
unedited verses about each and every
person we have ever loved: the stranger
on the subway, the girl who gave us a balloon,
the boy who stole our virginity
but not our heart.
Women like me will love you from a distance
of a thousand syllables while laying in your bed,
we will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible,
and when we leave you will finally understand
why storms are named after people."
by M.K. Wilde, Katrina
You asked me for my deepest darkest secret. A secret I'd told no other living soul.
What I think you may not understand about secrets is that those type are not down in the depths without reason. They aren't there to whip out at cocktail parties or ballet lessons or even at 3AM in the bed of your best friend who you tell most-everything to. They are absent for a reason.
I think when you asked for this secret you meant to ask for my vulnerability, but what you asked for is more than that, and you need to understand this.
Because the kind you asked for is so ugly that you do not even tell it to yourself. It's something you know is there - you can feel the weight - but you cannot look it squarely in the face. That's why it's kept underneath.
Someone somewhere once said ignorance is bliss and I believe them, because once you know the deepest darkest part of someone, you cannot forget. So I can tell you things I have told only five, two, even one other person, but don't you dare ask for more.
You cannot handle dark and deep. This is what you need to understand.
S.
I can see right past your fake thick skin
You've been writing about me again
My lips you swore off as a sin
But sweet temptation took you in.
My skin is thin, I do admit
Your every touch still bruises it
Still, my dead heart's fire was re-lit
So as to grant me one last kiss.
S.
I'll see the whole world over before I see the day you lay yourself at my feet and say you're sorry for all the nights you kept me guessing. For all the days you didn't tell me the whole truth. For every time you watched me spell 'I love you' with my eyes, but pretended you were blind.
I'll see the whole world over before you'd think to call. Before you'd think to tell me about your new life, and job, and the girl you met at the bar who you 'guess is your girlfriend now'. Before you'd think to ask how much of you is still beating through my veins and know I'm lying when I tell you none.
I'll see the whole world over but you'll still be the seven wonders wrapped into one. You'll still be a country road on a clear night when every single star in heaven can be seen. Still two arms tight around my waist that no landmark or brown-eyed stranger can erase.
And I can see the whole world over but I'll never find a place where you don't reach me still. You have tainted a world you've never seen with kisses I've never felt, and I'm not sure Earth is big enough for both of us.
I promise if there's a way to Mars, I'll take it.
S.
