Addict

Some people bring out the worst in you, others bring out the best, and then there are those remarkably rare, addictive ones who just bring out the most. Of everything.

They make you feel so alive that you'd follow them straight into hell, just to keep getting your fix.

Vehement Desires

Sometimes, you come to mind.

Beneath my eyelids I see you,

I feel your skin press softly against mine.

the scent of your Cheap cologne fills me

still.

I hear you softly whisper in my ear 

Like you did.

And tickle my ear with your cool breath

And give me shivers down my spine

Like you do.

My last goodbye was cut too short

It was wrong

We were wrong.

And now, I see you and It takes me back

sometimes.

You come to mind. 

Cinema

The movies never get it right.

The first encounter is never something expected,

He looks at you and looks away,

And you just let it go because how could you know?

When he talks to you, his words sound like nails on a chalkboard,

You cross your fingers and pray you're never alone in the same room. 

Then you're talking over an hour in his rich looking car and accidentally an ugly piece of your life comes out and you're face turns red and you apologize with pizza grease messing up your foundation and borrowed dress.

The first kiss wasn't a kiss, either. Your teeth mashed together and it was a queer goodnight.

Your first night over ended in nothing but his arm strung too tight around your neck, waking you up every hour.

Your face gently smashed against his chest and you had to peel it off.

The morning included a tangle of sheets, catching your foot and getting stuck. Your hair static and mascara down your eyes. 

Carefully Crawling over him, you stepped on his hand and woke him up.

You tried to sneak out, but people watched, judgement in their eyes.

You got home into your own white sheets

And laughed because

It's nothing like the movies

And

It doesn't matter.

Maybe it isn't supposed to be.

The Lonely

12:20 never felt impeccably lonely until tonight.

I hear your irregular heartbeat in the cages of my tightly wound, secured chest tonight.

The echo of your whispers make the spaces between my ears feel full like a wedding guest through buffets of "I love you" and "I want you".

But here you are, shameless, your memory blocks the double doors to my fretful mind with your piercing blue gaze.

"Do you want to?" Gone so far as to licking the glaciers in the North, I, guilty, agreed.

We lay in silence instead.  how did we already know something so reckless could never be beautiful?

I Love You, Big Jim

Away he goes, right on back to the mines

And she, with unborn child sits, just waiting.

Soft voices quietly revealed the signs,

Her head spinning, her conscious debating.

She won’t touch her breakfast of eggs and toast,

And the table has never seemed so long.

His seat, far away, holds the marriage ghost,

And now believing she did something wrong.

All that is left to do is to just forget,

Forget the words that were softly spoken,

Forget the mistress who she never met,

The unborn kin will not see the broken.

And so she does nothing but wait on him,

Rehearsing her lines, “I love you, big Jim.”

Tragedy

Empty. Just empty.

Love me, I’m tragic.

Hold me, I’m fragile.

What is there to hold onto anymore?

My inner desires are buried deep in a mass of weeds and dandelions.

What I’ve always known is right along with them, intertwined with the roots.

I’m searching, searching for something that I cannot find.

I’ve searched under the sea, across the plains, through time and I cannot find it.

It’s lost in the darkness of my bedroom before I close my eyes.

Like an atom it appears in front of me and in a mili-second is gone.

It wont let me have a flicker of feeling. It took away all feeling from my bones.

I shiver because its so cold inside of this body that lay alone, with nothing to hold onto. When I leave, what will become of this place? Will it rot to the ground? Will it fall apart? Will it build itself up to be the most beautiful?

Get me out.

I am empty. I am searching.

Three Short Words

A dozen budding red roses sit

In a transparent glass vase,

Comfortably on a fireplace mantle.

His deep blue eyes catch hers,

And his knees turn weak,

And she draws in a heavy breath,

Quiet and rigid.

He whispers three short words,

His lips like a quivering bow.

His voice is just loud enough

To be heard.

I love you.

The dozen roses come full bloom

One by one.

She stares at

all she’s ever wanted

and uncovers

Her pearly white teeth

stained with coffee.

She nods in silent agreement,

His shoulders drop

And he throws his head back with laughter.

The dozen red roses will wither in time,

One by one,

Comfortably on a fireplace mantle.