The Mourning

In the dawn

my eyes opened slowly.

I was on a plane.

The light was so yellow. 

I was there, 

but you no longer were.

My body was tired.

Yours was decomposing.

My hair smelled funny.

It was mourning time

for me. 

The Coveted Chill Pill Sequence

Today I hurt him and I wish I hadn't.

I didn't try not to,

I went ahead with it. 

When I knew I was really hurting him,

I decided to hurt him more.

Then we went our separate ways. 

Me - teary eyes and yesterday's socks.

Him - tight eyebrows, coffee rimmed lips, beautiful as ever. 

I forgot I was mad.

I remembered he was mad, though

I have thought about him too much today.

In that last moment I saw him, 

he didn't even want to see me

It reminded me of the time he kicked me out of his car.

I wouldn't get out,

so he took me to a store and bought me chocolate. 

Then he took me to his house.

He put me in the shower.

He stared in my eyes 

with his eyes.

I looked really deep into his eyes that day.

I could see into his thoughts.

I could read his mind.

He loved me that day.

I knew it.

I could read his open eyes, blinking:

"Chill the fuck out", they said.

I never liked you.

Sadness is as heavy as the weight of your good looks.
It's why when we fight, I can't figure out why I am blinking so slowly.

in other words

Dear Pooboy,
As another hard time sets in, rather it's found a restful place already, I find myself romanticizing everything I do not have.
Mostly, I miss a community of outer consciousness. I miss the brutality of a true opinion on my poor choices. Depression in older age is hard to romanticize, itself. The weight is a truly physical feeling, coupled with real physical pain. The sadness has less hope in recovering, for the broader knowledge knows it will come again, possibly harder, if not just as hard.
I'm not pushed to write or make art. I'm allowed to spend days laying in bed atop a blanket too warm for comfort, studying the creases in the walls, but unable to later describe them. Floating in space is scarier now, because with age comes fear, sometimes.
I often imagine a heart attack or a possession of sorts, either brought on by my own weakness.
I'm far from things that I love. I'm far from my teachers, like you & water.
Time moves on without me. I am my own enemy. I can not bare a look in the mirror. I've changed. I no longer am given gratitude for my ideas, for myself. I'm instead left feeling ever so alone. I try to make peace with the stillness, but it challenges me. It makes me worry to fight it & move forward.
If I could be anywhere right now, it would be with you. I know you'll forever understand me. You will forever love me. It's here I go for the finest comfort I can find.
I miss you terribly.
as always.
Toothbrush

shirts vs. skins

you never really feel skin so nicely
until it's not your own.

Judgement Day

I want to wake up in his arms. 

I want to fall asleep like that, too. 

Sometimes it isn't comfortable to fall asleep in someone's arms. 

It feels good,

but I hate it. 

Hey, We Tried

I tried to write the perfect words for you,

but there are none.

Not perfect or imperfect.

Just maybe not even a word at all.

Should I try it would be this,

“The saddest moment is when you’ve given your heart

to someone who didn’t want it.”

And then I realize..

My heart is still here-

Beating as such

Loving as such.

Just not for you.