Not To Hear it Back

And with wet between her legs
and an ache inside

something deeper deeper
something further in, further in.

She waited all day.
all night.
and the next day,
the next day.

Just for the sound of your voice.

Just to say that she loved you,
not to hear it back.

We replaced all that sad
with hope.

and then you walked away.

She's waiting on you.

After weeks of nightmares
after weeks with your jewels around her neck

like weights. like promises.
Like guilt she wore it,
everyday
begging sorry.

and she holds no resentment.
just a "please."

She doesn't sleep nights
for checking blue lights and dreaming hands.

She doesn't stay in bed mornings
for clicking keyboards and empty inboxes.

The distance doesn't hurt.
She doesn't hurt.

She learned from secret lovers
how to never let the dissapoint
sink.

Let's make more lists
let's make more lists.

that way,

we'll never forget.

A Slightly Secret Response

And just so you know?

I wouldn't call you. go crying back to you. wanna know why? cause you'd laugh sardonically and say "welcome to the real world. wlecome to my life. take a back seat."

And then you'd leave. always leave.

yay, you love. yay, you care. big whoopdefuckin'do. do i ever consider your feelings, you ask?

how about this: do you ever consider mine?

You bitch that i don't call and don't make an extra effort. you don't either. You say i don't take an active part in your life:you don't either. I don't miss you anymore. i love other people now. so do fucking you.

You don't hear me bitching about it on a constant basis, do you? nope. not anymore.

cause you're sick of it? that's hilarious. i've been sick of it FOR YEARS.

Welcome to the real world. Welcome to my world. Take a back fucking seat.

You snivelling whiney little brat thing.

See, that's our problem. You and i are exactly the same things. I too am snivelly. whiney. and quite bratty. I complain a lot. bitch a lot. and am needier than all sorts of fucking hell.

I lie. I use people sometimes. I'm like two shades sly of a slut.

But look at us. This is what we are. And i'll continue to try and forge my happiness here or there. where ever. and you can continue yours in your rosecityrain.

And that's the adult thing to do. the mature thing. Roll off your back like water. build a bridge.

get overit.

New Lover

It seems to early to be awake, too early for this. For changing tires and the evasion of emotions.

Can he come back now? Can he crawl through my window and beneath my blankets now? Can i find that place i fit and without questions, or explanations, or even expectations? Can we breathe each other again?

and find solace from that.

He has blue eyes. and a small dick. man tits. hairy legs. mustache. fat.

not that any of it matters (we all know it does) it's just that... He's not my golden boy. My lover boy. My Mr. Secret Agent Man of years gone past. He has no music boxes or winding rings or even any heartbreak music.

He has anger and bitterness on his side. He has apathy and fear. He has fences and walls and bulidings to be crossed, broken down.

a daunting task (to say the least).

He has more problems than i do. More instabilities, insecurities.

I can't very well be stroking his ego when i feel like a slut. (he wasn't a good fuck).

I think i'm just used to hearing "i love you"

Sleep's heavy and i miss his arms. Eyes close and i miss his lips. The chill comes and i miss warmth.

small steps, slowly. again. again. again.

In and out of love. In and out of love. Surprised but not shocked.




her heart will always swell. Her walls will always melt.

again and again and again.

always. always. always.