This isn’t technically a poem, but it’s close to it.

It was a simple task on record, but off it was easily the hardest thing she could ever hope to accomplish.  

In his arms, things were safe, warm, delicate but on the outside of his embrace she was finding life hard to cope with.  On the outside there were no gentle kisses to her lips, cheek and forehead to reassure her of her safety.  There was no strong arms to hold her up from hitting rock bottom.  And there was certainly no peaceful slumber.

She could argue that he didn’t understand what he did to her.  She could almost be certain that he didn’t know of the delicate emotions that erupted with every twitch of his fingers and every flutter of his eyelashes against her cheek.  And, of course, she knew without a doubt that he didn’t know about the sensations she felt when he pressed his bare flesh against hers, or nuzzled her neck.

In fact, she wasn’t even quite sure herself.  The only word previously used to describe these intense emotions was “butterflies”.  The word seemed so broad now.  The butterflies referred to a feeling in your chest or stomach, not a feeling that washed over your skin in waves, making you feel warm, safe and wanted.

Outside of his arms was where she currently resided, head resting on her knees, eyes staring sideways at the blue wall in her darkened room.  One hour being both the exact amount of time he had been gone and the exact amount of time she slept the previous evening (or morning, but who’s counting).  

She was tired, her mind ceased making sense and she still tingled from the whisper of his touch (strong arms previously wrapped around her).  Her body ached to both be with him and to drift off into a peaceful slumber, where her memories of those few beautiful (however, fleeting) moments they shared earlier in the day would be on repeat (and not drenched in blue around the edges).

Alas, neither ache would subside as neither want would come true.

Peace was written on the walls, on her sheets, on her blanket, on her clothes, but never in her mind.  Slumber was painted where it was able to be seen, but not to be acted out.  Love was at the fore front of her mind, body still holding sweet whispers of caresses.  

Dear Mr. Sandman,
the slumber never calms
the waking beast
changing their heart
to let someone in

but perhaps, it’s misery.

& it kills me every time

So tired.  I can’t even function, think straight.  But…but…I’ll be up all night in tears again.  You don’t know what you do to me.

Nothing makes sense, nothing makes sense anymore.  It’s not right when you’re gone.  It just isn’t.  I stay up and I try not to call you.  I try to wait until you call me, but I’m so addicted to your voice that it’s so hard for me to even imagine being without it.

You.  You on the other hand.  You don’t feel anything do you?  You don’t understand why I’d need you so much.  Or how much it hurts to only be permitted to need you for one day a week.

It gets harder every time.  Especially when that phone rings and I know you have to disappear.  

It kills me.  It kills me when you hang up, sigh and stare at me with those big brown eyes.  And I know.  I just know where it’s going.

And you get up and you leave, tell me you have to and if it were my choice.  You can’t make promises anymore.  And I can’t take the broken hearts.  Littered with the knowledge of paper, the title of “pure” and the quantity of “six”.

You kill me.  And you don’t even know it.

the way i want this to be always

It’s been so long, I’d forgotten how good it felt to rest against you like this.  I know we’re both crying now, but I can’t help thinking how amazing it feels to have my face resting against your chest and your arm around me.  

I can’t explain it, but I want to be here with you…like this forever.  It’s comforting to feel this sensation of belonging.  Your hand brushes over my hair and down my back and I’ve never felt so much love for you.

The way things are right now, with you smiling down at me, kissing the top of my head and lacing your free hand with the one I placed on your chest…I wouldn’t trade this for the world.  I feel the sting of tears being brought forth and a smile coming to my lips.  

My thoughts immediately shift to a song from the opera we watched together and I feel the tears roll down from my eyes, down my cheeks and over my lips.  

I never knew I’d love you so much, but I do.

One Night Only

For one night only–
I’ll be who you want me to be
lay on my back and look pretty
say things to get your pitty
for just one night

For one night only–
I’ll let the smoke from my cigarette
curl up and around your sweet face
let your eyes water from the stench
for just one night

For one night only–
I’m offering, no strings attached
No hope renewed, nothing gained
everything lost
for just one night

For one night only–
I’ll tell you what you wanna hear
whisper sweet nothings in your ear
lies against my red-stained lips
your head against my breast
for just one night

For one night only–
I’ll be her with the long red nails
the short brown hair, red-stained lips
high stiletto heals

And in the morning…
you don’t even have to remember
my name.

How Do I deserve You?

I feel abandoned, lost amongst this vast sea of heartbreak.  I never thought I’d ever feel I had to be punished for loving, but I realize now that it never really brings you any joy in life.  So many expectations and yet, I crave it like I crave the air I breathe, the food I eat, the water I drink.  I eat it like candy or any type of pleasant-tasting food.  I fill my lungs with it, the emotion runs through my veins and boils over.  Love is worth the pain.

I feel ugly like my soul is shoved into the wrong body.  I stare at this skin, covered in scars and marks, tiny scratches and stretches from where my skin is straining to hold me in.  How my hair doesn’t fall down my back like perfect straight silk, how my pale pink lips are peeling from the harsh winter air and they don’t look like all the other girl’s lips.  How my nose is so pointed and sloped, my hands hold no talent for anything but typing.  My eyes are cold, uninviting.  Everything about me screams for people to stay away.  My body is worn, weak, covered in small bruises and everything about my appearance is sickening.  Yet…

Here you are, staring at me, my whole body naked before you and you look as if you can’t get enough.  You’re ravenous for this girl, the person I am.  The girl who stands before you, insecure and terrified of being classified as useless.  Your eyes show nothing but love.

You’re beautiful.  Or as beautiful as anyone could describe a man.  Your skin is smooth and soft, despite your constant complaint about it.  And your body is perfection, I could stare at it all day.  The soft curves of your chest, the hairs that lead from your chest down over your stomach and to the top of your pants.  The way your stomach dips in and how my head fits perfectly against your shoulder.  Your long, strong throat is perfect, covered in the short hairs of your beard.  Most women would complain about your facial hair, but me?  I’ve never found a problem with it.  In reality, I find it sexy.  You hair is soft and silky smooth with a shine I wish my own locks could muster.  I can’t remember seeing anyone so attractive.  

Your eyes sparkle and your lips are perfect, smooth and soft beneath my fingers.  I can’t get enough of you.  The way you smell, the way you taste, how your body feels strong, safe, comfortable.  You’re amazing.  

And me? I’m not even average.

i’m the selfish one

Admit it
it’s euphoric to see me this way:
lips chapped
nose red
mouth agape
throat so raw
air feels like sandpaper
in my lungs

it brings you happiness
to see me grovel
beg, long
for your affection

Please, please, please
don’t leave me

you do

it fills you with joy
to know that you’ve created a void
an ache in my chest bigger than
the one I caused you

you keep biting at me
insults through letters and words
but I sit here &
just to be close to you

I’m nothing to you or anyone else
I’m here
& you love it

but I’m the selfish one
so hurt me
because you don’t deserve me

maybe one day I’ll wake up
after everything you’ve done to erase me
and realize I deserve better

but for now
I’m begging with chapped lips
and a sandpaper throat:

don’t go.