Breathing

Your silk hair can't fall through my fingertips like water anymore,

you've changed sides.

your skin is no longer smooth, but somewhat coarse...?

amazing you left for him, not surprising.

go hide behind your no longer standing refuge, oh wait, I BURNED IT So you can't hide.

This amuses me now, the fact you try to get away, when I'm holding your wrists so tightly, my nails are practically making you bleed!

the face I once thought was a piece of art work is now scum...

so as I hold the knife against your throat, say you love him again...

then say good night, sweet little pearl.

Tired

I am tired of thinking about you,
you tell me whats the best
thing to get over you?
Thoughts coming in and
out how did I fall in
love with you?
Memories coming
in and out it makes
me weak that I can't
say anything to you.
I am like the fallen
flower just hoping
to be land in your
heart. My mind can
stop thinking about you
but my heart stops
for you. Where does
this lead us? I am
tired of dreaming
about you it makes me
lost and confused.
A`Heart dosen't
stop like that it
makes people
wonder who are they?
My heart keeps on
beating and my breath
stops as I see you.
Just looking at you
you make me happy and smilie.
I give up by landing on a
dead flower that has fallen
on the floor. You never notice
me but what can i do?
My heart loves you not
my mind. My mind
is just waiting for to
scream at you.

No Small Gift

Up to our knees in patches of tiger lilies. “Red is your color.” A babbling brook in Woodstock we cross in bikini tops and flip-flops— jeans rolled up— to soak in the last of the sun from atop a mossy boulder. Currents. Crashing. Sliding. Thrashing. Slipping away. Gravity pulls my foot-house towards the mouth. Panic. Laughter. Potential outcomes various— paralyzing. My sure-footed friend stumbles after it with no luck. An idea! “I saw stuck on a rock on our way a miracle!” Mad dash in the dusky onset of dark. “I pray it’s your left!” It is. We climb the footpath back to the gravel road and pass little girls riding bicycles— tiger lilies in their hair. Giggles as we dart past them-- I donning one wet black flip and one wet red flop.

she who sits, is she who walks and she who knows

she sits, she sits on the "royal throne" listening to the beats of The Beatles. Just the beats and not the lyrics because she wouldn't be able to understand them anyways. understanding? and even if she did try to decipher them, others would think otherwise and give her bull about what she thought. and its not her fault its just the way she thinks right?
she leaves. she leaves out the door and heads for the nearest bus stop. the nearest bus stop which wasn't near at all- probably 6 blocks away, almost half a mile- and still is listening, listening the The Beatles. Here Comes the Sun. Ironically, the sun is setting. half way through she realized what they meant. what they meant by darling. and what they meant by sun. who would've thought: she isn't that out of it at all. her near-miss interpretation of who or what darling was. Darling was your love-or everyone's love; the shining, smiling savior ready to warm up winter's snow and chilled hearts.

should i tell you or not?

Time is flying,
months going on too fast
I can't stop thinking
about you. You make
me smilie, laugh and
make my day. There
has to be a reason
why I can't stop
thinking about you.
After what you did
to me, you hurt me
and made my tears
lost in space. Love is
over for me
I am tired of
writing poems
and having
dreams about
you. We have
moved closer
but you have
taken away with
my dreams,
my thoughts.
Everyone
says I should
tell you. But what
do they know?
They don't know
the meaning
of hurt. Did you
change for me?
I can't take a
risk. I wish
go up to
you and bury
my feelings into
your hugs.