Catching Me

06/12/12

I am not asking for anything,
not the weight of your hand
in mine, the trace
of your breath along the back of my neck
or even your smile.
Because I am content
with how it is,
this distance, the searching glances
from the corners of my eyes,
your name not even mentioned
as I run my pen along the paper,
afraid as if I could jinx myself.
I'm scared to lean against you
because I want to, need
to fall
and I can't ask you the burden
of catching me.

Red

Red lips that are not so red.

You smile

with mock sincerity etched upon your face.

You’re laughing at me.

I’d hear whispers late at night, of how

you rip peoples’ hearts out

and leave them to fester in the open air,

blood spilling out,

dying red to black,

sticking, causing a permanent wound,

just like the one you left on me.

Red lips that are not so red.

You pout,

creating the unfair urge to protect, yet

you’re cutting into me.

I’d watch you paint, never sleeping,

creating false visions

and twisted pictures of reality,

paint smeared across the canvas,

staining white with red,

mixing a permanent brand,

just like the one you left on me.

Red lips that are not so red.

You frown

with distain marked upon your brow.

You’re looking down on me.

I’d listen to you criticize and mock

my every move and reaction to you,

launching a frontal attack with words,

piercing deep within my cells,

clouding back a layer of rage,

just like the one you left on me.

Red lips that are not so red.

You laugh,

knowing my limitations and boundaries.

You’re playing with me.

I’d hear your voice with taunting tones,

drawing me in circles,

wearing me down because you know

I can’t resist you,

dark red on skin, you lips on mine,

a branding of ownership by lipstick,

just like the one you left on…

him.

Red lips that are not so red,

sealed tightly against what

I want to hear.

Concrete Paradise

You comb the flowers,
brush the grass, pick
the earth clean and design
the streets running through it all.
This is a maze, this is
your concrete bed upon which we walk,
struggle, wander forward and
chase the wilderness all down.
It pays and it sells to develop soft recollections
of paradise, fake-Edens planted,
and weeded and trimmed and
mowed and painted and picked free
of undesirable life forms.
But still...
the sun is hot as it oozes down
the pavement, seeps through the gray
and reflects off the noise of
society in full throttle motion,
sliding forward into the
red lights of traffic,
paradise forever lost to us on
the other side of the
highway.

May 23, 2012

I already knew how
this would end,
the rasp of your voice
as we talk in quiet whispers,
spinning memories and confessions
of love, my hands gripped
tightly in yours,
tears forming as I whisper
I love you again and again
until the echo of your breath
fades away softly into the night air
as I let go of you
for the final time.

Open

My body is open,
curved wide along the pieces
of my spine,
heart failing as the blood
pulses weakly through my veins
until I'm left with nothing
but the faint beat of my heart
a dull echo in my skull.
I'll ask you to fill me,
hands fluttering along the sides of my ribs,
fingers tracing the ache of my lungs,
the strips of my skin blood ribbons
trailing down my clothes
as I wait to receive your love
and end the emptiness
inside me.

One Thing

I want you to know one thing
about this
about me
about how I feel about you
but more importantly how I wish you would feel about me
because if you smile then laugh, say that I'm great
say that I'm funny
say that you love me
even if I can never become your lover
so please, can you humor me for a day
for an hour
for a minute
for a second frozen in time
pretend that you love me to the end of the world and that your love will never change or waver
pretend that you are mine
because I am already yours and have been long before
you've known it
yet this is wishful thinking
a dream that I can't escape from and sometimes I wish it was over.
Yet I want you to know this
before this dream has ended and we go back to reality
know that I love you and pretend that you love me
just for a second to humor me.

Then we can go back to being
friends.

Bald Moon

You know I dream of a
bald moon,
pale in the remnants of a sickness
floating on the surface of the skin,
frothing within the veins
and piling high behind my eyelids.
I'll pool in the blood,
mark 'cross the darkness
as I step forwards across the hollow bridge
while the soft
sick sounds of reality snapping
echo around my flesh and
through the hollow curves of my bones until
I'm dying
again and again
within the sheets of a murder,
all white,
all damned,
slowly smoked apart and served
upon glass dished with the semblance of
your screams.

You know I wish that this
was over.