Beating on a leather sleeve

Cries a crimson heart

Splashing notions here n’ there

Gushing out its guts

Now he can’t pull in a breath

Can’t bring himself to say

The telltale that will still it

And scrub the stain away

~Cotton

#Love #Poetry #Heartbreak

My Dearest Friend,

Now our bondage is fully dissolved, I am yet having a sort of contrition about how we had ceased our affairs, by disparaging all that we had built on common grounds, yet all that vanished over an awful conversation, which we had bartered, despite the lengthy of our good relationship.

Today, as I stand on the edges of a wobbling mountain, and seeing how the days are quite fleeting like the wind, I’ve come to realization and found a time to walk on cold ice, bare feet, letting my mind and heart converse in sincerity, recalling all the past events that suddenly unfolded beneath our eyes.

We were young then, two wild hearts, equally defiant of nature itself, yet we had found our admirable perseverance of adamant tempers, and mastery, which bonded us as a union.

It’s disheartening though, seeing a castle built by two people with hard labor and a hefty paid price, disintegrated into ashes, over night.

Now, I am bathing in regret, when I recall our stubborn prides, the wildfire that burnt down our castle to dust.

Because, now this should not come to you as any surprise, when I humbly say how much I had regarded highly of our friendship, and which I still do, although all that ended over a quarrel of insignificant weight.

In looking back, the degrees in which our last affair concluded, the reasons were quite inadequate, to say the least, even though I cannot speak of with equal certainty of your standing on this matter, how you might’ve measured our discontinuity.

As the nightfall nears by, I found our decisions of departing in our own separate ways to be unequivocally bothersome, foolish, and unnecessary.

Therefore, if I had to go back in time, I would’ve laid my sharp sword down, and let you take and lead the ways, in order to save our longest friendship, which might’ve lasted forevermore.

Yours Truly,

MI

It hits the table,

Your keys.

You sit down and look over at me with a look of love in your eyes,

Admiration.

Our eyes lock.

They meet and your lips begin to turn up into a smile.

Then it all goes black.

There is no longer light between us,

It is just,

Nothingness.

But that is not true because there is darkness.

And for there to be the absence of light,

There had to be light in the first place.

The humming of electricity stops

The 'click, click' of the fan,

The voices on the radio,

All stop.

There is no longer sound between us,

It is just.

Nothingness.

But that is not true because there is silence,

And for there to be the absence of sound,

There had to be sound in the first place.

But that is not all.

There is a love between us,

An unspoken love.

The buzzing of our atoms reaching for each other,

The sound of our hearts beating in unison.

I light a candle and our love illuminates the room.

We talk and there is no longer silence,

There is the sound of two lovers speaking,

Connecting.

And I know then that there is something there.

Night turns to day and back to night,

I arrive home with you sitting there,

Blank expression on your face.

Your lifeless head turns

And our eyes lock.

They meet but you do not smile.

The lights shut off and the buzzing is less significant.

There is no longer a desperation in our touch.

I do not light a candle that night,

Scared that the light will illuminate something in the dark.

Something I do not want to see.

I prefer the dark.

I prefer the dark over an unconfessed lover,

Over the “i do not”s or the “but”s

I prefer silence over the truth.

Our eyes do not lock.

Your lips are pursed together

And there is a tear forming in your eye.

I do not hear much.

Just the rustling of you beneath your blanket.

I have my own now.

We go night after night,

Hands to ourselves,

Lips not touching,

Voices not colliding.

How can I be laying next to you and still be lonely,

How can I see you but miss you.

Now.

It is like your voice is a commodity,

A flake of gold in my sift pan of dirt and mud.

Something I long to hear,

Something that is scarce,

Something not given.

Our eyes lock.

They meet and you do not smile.

The tear falls down your cheek.

There is nothing.

Just silence.

But there has to be

Because for there to be indifference,

There had to be love in the first place.

The absence of... anything.

Is that nothing?

Or is it just emptiness.

The lights do not go out that night.

I hear us drifting apart.

Feel my feet shuffling to the couch.

I see the loneliness,

Inviting me in.

I turn off the lights.

I light a candle and I lay down.

The candle illuminating my tear stained face,

The skeletons in my closet,

The monsters in the dark.

It illuminates my darkest fears.

I keep the light off.

I put the candle out,

Hiding my pain.

It hits the table,

Your tears.

And you sit down and look over at me with tears in your eyes,

Sadness.

Our eyes lock.

There is no longer love between us.

I am alone now.

I go through the motions.

I go to coffee shops looking for love.

Gas stations,

Bars.

I speak over crowds in hope our eyes will meet across the room.

I write poems and I walk the streets

Looking for something in someone else’s eyes.

Anyone's eyes.

Something you took from me.

Something not mine anymore.

I glance over and see a coffee mug in the air.

Covering a face framed by long black hair.

Different from her blonde.

Curls that flow down and bounce on her shoulders.

Different from her straight.

It hits the table,

The mug.

You come over and sit down

You look at me across the table.

Our eyes lock.

They meet and your lips turn up into a smile.

Then the whole world lights up.

Happy New Year!

A couple quick updates to start off 2019.

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We wish you all a fantastic 2019. Great things ahead.

Prose.

November 18, 2016

     I'm not insane. Those are the words that I've been muttering to myself for the past few weeks. But, maybe I am. Maybe it was the insanity that brought me to the roof of my house. The wind whipped in my face, making my eyes water. A light rain was falling and made my hair stick to my neck and forehead. It was in the middle of November, but all I was wearing were shorts and a t-shirt.

     I'm not insane. The voices told me I would be fine. Just jump. I won't fall, I won't die, but instead I'll fly. That's what they said to me, the voices. And maybe that's why, as I stood on the slick two story roof, I wasn't really concerned if my feet slid out from underneath me. Because, I'll fly. I've always wanted to fly, ever since I was younger, before the anxiety took away all the dreams and replaced them with fear and stress. 

     I'm not insane. There was a woman at the window calling my name. It was my mom. She didn't like the voices, I heard her talking to my grandpa about them. They scare her. They used to scare me, but now they're my friends, and they'll let me fly. I wanted to fly. I didn't listen to my mom's voice.

     I'm not insane. Those were the last words I thought, then slowly, I inched my way towards the edge of the roof. Mom was calling again, louder this time. I dangled one foot over the ledge, then the other, and gravity took control.