happy endings

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My story is not over.

My journey has just begun.

Just because one person couldn’t see my value, doesn’t mean that I am left with none.

There’s beauty all around me, but I’ve been too timid to live a life of just all fun.

But he makes it easy, he makes me want to run.

His eyes are like a supernova, right before it’s blast into oblivion.

Skin wrapped around me like the ocean waves crashing deep into white sand beaches.

“That’s my favorite thing about you.”

He says. I laugh.

Why? I reply,

“This skin of mine is flawed and scarred.”

And then, he moved uncomfortably close, and a feeling of safety filled my heart.

Kissing my forehead, his lips transferring all his warmth. He whispers,

“I love the scars and I love the flaws.

And more importantly, I love your skin because all of it is yours.”

is freedom far from here

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I go to bed, I wake up and it’s still on my mind

There are small spaces in time, like when watching queen and slim at midnight

Where I’m puzzled by the thoughts that drift by

Life is short and then, it’s long when we work that 9-5

I repent, I cry out, asking him to save me and bring me to the front of the line

Where the water is crystal clear and I know in my heart that my mother will never again cry

We all stand together strong, even though we are all broken and we have all been wronged

And it’s so familiar, but we stay sane

And we laugh to translate the pain and we dance and we sing

We call out and we scream names

We say, that we are indeed emotionally unavailable, dead inside

Quick to cut people out of our lives, use them for our own pleasure, our dark delight

But no one wants to be used, and once upon a time the abuser was abused

All they desire is to be the first and only choice

All anyone wants really, is to be loved and have that love reciprocated without uncertainty, without thinking twice

I asked everyone around me, who it is that they wanted to be

And my favorite answer by far, came from the elderly man, who said that, all he wanted was to be free

Lion’s Den

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Lightning bolt skies

Thunder percussion when your hips thrust into mine

Fear and pleasure has since filled my mind

I wish I gave it all away to you

I wish you weren’t so distant too

I wish I could read your mind

I wish it wasn’t constantly on mine

My fingers explored the different textures of your hair, curly, coils, where my fingers glided through, it isn’t fair

How I traced the landscape of your body strong, skin soft, kissing all of your scars

That level of intimacy, the pleasure I know in my heart, I have no right to feel.

The taste of you has yet to drift from my lips

And the image of you, can’t seem to escape me

The bass of the music drowns out all the words I wanted to say, and all that remained was foolish nervousness and a girl in dismay

I got lost in time, it’s now midday

Oh I wonder, what would have been your response, if I said what it was I really wanted to say, asked you to stay?

The reality is, that you didn’t stay and you don’t respond when I ask, if you’re okay

And I shouldn’t expect you to give more than you’re willing to, for those reasons are yours and yours alone.

All I know is that I want to occupy that space again.

I want to get lost in it, I want to feel you all around. I want my world to be turned upside down.

Somewhere deep in your lion’s den, where I can take all of you, every particle, every piece and feel you bring light into me.

Dear Lover

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Please feed my soul or I’ll be forced to let go

Wasted are my thoughts. Thoughts of those who weren’t worth my time. Empty shells have come knocking, but once they saw my spirit they fled, leaving less than dust behind. There is one, who is different from the rest.

He does more than feed my soul, he nourishes my psyche. He loves me wholeheartedly. I whispered words of affection into his ear. And he asked me to say them aloud, strong and clear.

“Dance with me, transcend with me, challenge me, be everything I ask you to be, be more than what I ask you to be, be song and dance for not me, but for you. Be life and death with me, progress with me, kill time with me, intertwine both our minds for me, smile with me, cry with me.

For you, I would write a million poems because there are simply not enough words to describe the type of being you are.”

Some say the truth hurts and a lie is bittersweet, but I would rather you, be honest and kind to me. Say what you mean, don’t be silent because in this moment, there exist just you and I. In this space we share, this small amount of time. We are in unison in almost every kind of way. We are limited, when it comes to how long we stay. And he never calls me beautiful, because beauty never lasts. But he calls me, his and I tell him every night that he is mine. For we are flawed and free, but unlike our flesh, this love will always be.

wise man

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He closed his eyes & let go of his hatred.

He closed his mouth & listened to the quiet world, that surrounded him.

He opened his heart & took off his shoes.

That day, he walked the Earth with bare feet.

He stared upon the sky & earth, realizing that he & it were one.

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I’m slowly forgetting the sound of your voice, the curve of your lips. I’m slowly forgetting the feeling of your arm hair brushing just slightly against mine. And with it, all these small inconsequential memories. I’m slowly losing interest in everything. I don’t listen really, I don’t listen to anything or anyone. Nothing excites me anymore, no small sparks of passion to keep me on my feet throughout the day. I don’t even really enjoy music either, not like I once did. The sound of it leaves me feeling, a tad bit numb. All I can do is write words, words that when formed together aren’t even good enough to be typed onto a blank page. But that’s all that’s left, a vacant space, a hole. I often wonder why it has come to this. It’s no one’s fault, but my own really..Why did I allow myself to fall in? Why must all beautiful things end in tragedy? Why must they end at all? For what is a writer without beauty? For what is a poet without tragedy?

For a poet without a muse, no longer has a reason to write.

But write they must.

And I will,

even if it means, no longer writing for you.

Dear Strangers

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I have had so many love affairs with my eyes.

Direct & enticing

Deliberate & sweet.

In this moment, you have somehow become mine.

Remove every layer of cloth, while I trace my fingers along your scars, down your spine.

Allow me to create art.

Paint your body with soft strokes of emotion.

Water your mind.

I’m sorry, you like many have become victim to my art.

My body is at standstill, air passes through the lungs.

No sound escapes, but be sure that if I have ever loved you in any type of way. 

Whether forever or just a day.

You may never hear it from my mouth, but only know it from the words I write.

These words are mine and in this moment, so are you.

Too many lovers & somehow, still too few.