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simmer

i almost love you.
it’s sitting there,
simmering beneath the surface,
waiting for the right moment
to come through.
i am content with you,
not too much
of any one thing.

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#fromthedraftsfolder

Your words burn my soul like bright flame to a lone sheet of paper, mottled with eraser marks and pencil hearts. It is as though you have reached bare-handed through my skin, taken my heart between your fingers, and opened it to my very being. Inch by inch, your words unravel it with the same finesse as an angry sea with a sailboat. I would beg you to be kinder if I thought you would hear it, but I know that my words would fall far short of truly reaching you. You would sooner rip my soul to pieces and leave the pieces to the Devil rather than see that you are no better than the others. You speak of peace and love and truth, but you would sooner have me drown in the ocean rather than believe in peace, or give love, or search for truth in anything other than what you already have found.

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good thing.

i am tired –
it has been a long day,
one still going.
i am afraid to put you in words.
i am afraid of the ending.
inevitable,
but then endings are inevitable,
always.
to be present inside those moments,
has been refreshing,
an orgasm for the soul,
if you will.
i can see the light in the tunnel,
it’s irony, really,
seeing as how i’m just
trying to stay in the dark,
wanting you to be endless,
the kind of forever,
i don’t really believe is possible,
ill say it anyway,
you’ve been a good thing.
such a good thing.

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alive.

there are people who say that
you will forget words and actions,
but never the feelings.
those people are right.
i can barely remember your face,
or your touch or your laugh.
i can’t remember the depths of your eyes,
or the way you smiled.
i can’t remember the shape of you,
or the feel of you against me.
i can’t recall the moment that i decided
that i. wanted. you.
the first time i saw you?
the first time i kissed you?
the first time you touched me?
no, i can’t remember much about you at all,
except that for a moment in time,
i was alive.
i was trapped in your fire,
burning and smoldering,
and yet,
i was more alive than i had ever been.

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tendrils.

He’s like an angry lover
with his hands around her throat
and his whispers in her ear.
She can feel him touching
all her secret places –
her heart
her soul
her thoughts
He’s inside her,
like the devil he is.
He finds the cracks
in her heart and rips
and rips until she can’t
find enough pieces
to make half of a whole.
He tries to suffocate her
in crowded rooms
and it’s so hard to walk
across the parking lot
when he’s dragging her down
like a ball and chain
around her neck.
No one sees.
No one notices.
She’d scream but he’s got
his hand over her mouth
and he forces her words away.
They can’t see him,
they can’t feel him.
But he’s there all the same.
She can hear him laugh,
when she tries to escape.
When she tries to be stronger
bigger
better.
One day he’ll kill her
If she doesn’t escape.
If he doesn’t let her go.
If she can’t shake him –
and she’ll have to do it alone
because no one sees
no one notices
no one.