poetry
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It was the love story that was never meant to be. She was too old, too grey, too fat, used up, and whatever else the red pill mafia told her. Not that she believed it. But still certain insecurities weighed on her mind as she watched KermitCrashOut at 12:12am and understood Kermit’s need to alternate…
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Let me walk around your darkness While I tan in the glow of your smile The thoughts behind your eyes when you spread me on display and stare so intensely, I leak for you I lounge in your light as your laughter sparkles across the sheets but I crave your murkiness your intrusive thoughts at…
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The city moved past, her favorite pastime Watching the could be, what might be, the possibilities Of those lights, that room, this building, speeding the reflections of the river refracting in her mind what might be could she, would he, might be, the activities if she could keep her mind from wandering and wondering silence…
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I leaned in just to lay my head on his shoulder and it gutted me the softness that I could lean in and rest and not have to think – I need your mind to respond – I need you to manage to be a trauma dumping ground – I need you to fix not…
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They gnawed Fraying the rope between my heart and his Their teeth sharpened with doubt, fear and buried insecurities of “do I measure up?”
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Her knees were the first to go. Pinned to the wall, her legs already had limited movement as her pants around her ankles allowed her legs to spread just enough for the hand that was insistently moving inside of her pussy. She was held up by that hand and the pressure of his other hand…
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The refrain made the first tear fall Love was so strong, at least at the beginning Who would’ve thought there’d be an ending I didn’t, but by the time the chorus was on, I knew that the universe conspired That song, that time, as if I didn’t know And tried to pretend that maybe, just…
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Every time You put me in the untenable position to say yes when it really is a no And ask me Do I still Am I still Would I still No Little by little It was lost chipped when you derided devalued denied used gas to light me instead of lighting the spark required overcare…
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When will it be my turn? To feel love as an exchange instead of a hole in my artery leaking the last of my joy My turn to have someone say, I solved the problem, you don’t have to do anything My turn to be heard My turn to have boundaries respected My turn to…
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What does it mean that I found love, but lost my pen? That the words can’t come. Won’t spill out of my head spewing everywhere Did happiness stop me? Unconcious, did I gut myself emptying the bowels of letters that rearranged themselves in my head? 525,600 characters lost to love
