Reservoir. (Mini-Series. Part 7.)

Watch me, love,
and wonder.
Confine your peripheral vision
on my silhouette
Only.
Notice that I'm secretly doing work.

Though I won't tell you exactly
what I'm up to,

know this:
It's all for you.

So To Speak

I have an odd request
for you.
Maybe two...

Speak up.
Tilt your chin upwards
slightly,
Straighten your back and
meekly resound your mind to me.
Arrange your words straight as an arrow
and aim directly for my heart's flesh.
I need to know you aren't afraid of sounding off.
Flapping your gums at me, so to speak,
even if a time or two
Is to let me know that
You.
Got.
This.

Also,
Lean in really close to me.
Invade my person and
Match my line of vision.
Speak in low tones with confident demeanor.
Softly enunciate each syllable
so that I will stiffen at attention.
Verbalize to me what lies in the intimate corners
of your heart, so to speak.
I promise that once you
have my full attention
You'll.
Have.
Me.

Hate (part one?)

Hate weighs on the soul
My energy is drained to the point
Where I cannot muster a vowel
To retell the story of why your
Existence in my heart is detestable.

This victim’s song is familiar
And I hum it softly to myself at times
So soothing is the searing repugnance
That I soon find myself crouched in.
A wounded man’s paradise;
Lulled into a cold slumber
From the melody.

Motionless and satisfied.
Happy from the reality I’ve built:
That everyone is malevolent
Way deep on the inside.
I smile from the safety of knowing that
I won’t ever have to try again;
Underneath the weight of
Grave vulnerability.

Offense hitches itself to the hip of the heart
And transitions with me from one stage in life
To the next.
Disappointment thick on my skin;
Covers;
Radiating from me like an aura
That glows with sweet disdain;
The façade of sweet tolerance and longsuffering
Attempts at masking my heartache,
While the pungent odor
Of hatred slowly seeps it way through.

Truthfully,
I have grown wary of the mourner’s sackcloth
And the chains of the slave.
The musty stench of disappointment
Lingering,
Makes me long for fresh air.
I need emancipation from
This place
And the courage to flee
This foggy disposition.

Spring Break Musings. (Mini-Series. Part 9)

You push me to edges.
But revealing that I can go further
Than I thought I ever could.
I see that my edges aren’t really
The end
Of all there is of me.
Rather,
They are a beautiful
Transition
Into greater unknowns.

Suicide. (Mini-Series. Part 8)

“What doesn’t kill you
Makes you stronger.”
Well, I wish that
I were dead.
I wish I could be a fatality
And not a survivor
...of heartbreak.

Heart of Fire.

Caressing a fire,

Your heart glows bright in my arms.

The tips of my fingers

Trace carefully along the heated seams

Close to rupturing its zealous rays.

In moments where I grasped too quickly,

Clenched too harshly,

Your love seared my flesh;

Left an impression past skin & bone.

I retract my grip

And react in pain;

Gritting teeth and regretting that

I wasn’t more careful.

However,

Soon after the tissue cools

I notice that

You’ve forever left a mark;

A permanent tale-tell sign.

Therefore,

I’ll always walk this earth with a piece of the sun

Because I’ve loved you.

Love's B-Side.

Growing up I
believed a great, incomplete
truth.
fantasized & sacrificed
every moment on long bus rides
and nighttime silences
wishing and longing for the day
when I would find
a great love that would
suddenly
make my existence easier.

blame it on my naivety
or the fabricated, woo-like
factor in the media.
no matter the source of fault,
I wanted it more than
my  next breath:
someone who I'd love so much
that I'd breathe my last for.

I was completely unaware
of the harsh, unattractive half to Love.
Its gritty & disheveled B-side;
where you're pushed to the
outer realms of your sanity.
And you endure pain unimaginable;
the kind that mirrors the martyr
[but for different reasons]

Fear uncovers past wounds
of abandonment and heartache
Yet,

...I still want Love.
More than I did as a child.
And having sat down and counted the costs,
I still choose to pursue;
fantisizing with the same bright-eyed
enthusiasm.
Only now, it's matched with an inner fight
to endure whatever comes.

(Mini-Series. Part 6) Deep vs. Shallow

I know that my waters
run deep,
but the moment I notice that
I am being
           watched;
caught underneath the gaze of
your mind's eye,
I cast my smile as far away as possible
and quietly wade around
the shallow end.
I cannot show you
just how deep it all goes.

Curbed & Biased.

my eyes are for no other.
handsome forms and
charming words of strangers
fail to turn my head.
my tastes have been
curbed and biased.
reserved for the likes of
only you.
...or your prototype at least...

my heart is incapable of
resounding loudly for another [man].
the kindest gesture or
most intellectual exchange
cannot raise a single hair on my head
nor prickle one pore on my forearm.
I am dead to all of them:
Future suitors are merely a sea of
faceless Johns...
...and in their midst you've surpassed them all.

Take Time

I.
take a moment to
simply. breathe.
and study the loving eyes
staring back at you.
say nothing and
be still.
and I will quiet the
stirrings underneath my rib;
silently nurse the pain.
I'll be ready when you are, friend.
I'll be ready when it's time.

II.
take a moment.
and I'll linger here...
how lovely it can be to
dwell in sweet anticipation.
I'll wait for you.
My feet will not budge
unless it's in your direction...
and unless He tells me to.
I'll be ready when you are, friend.
I'll be ready when it's time.

Smile (Mini-Series. Part 6)

look in my direction
linger there for a moment
give me your eyes' shine.
and slowly perk cheekbones
let your lips part
while their corners
reach for the heavens,

show me you're delighted...
...love,
smile for me.

The Break. (The Skinny Poem)

I have realized

The dangers of a passion

Left alone to starve.

Small morsels of

Grazing skin-to-skin

And bartering full glances

…Tease the longing soul.

However,

While a cloud of the unknown

Hovers close,

We are temporarily shaded

From the sun.

Here,

We find relief.

From the intensity

Of hope,

The pull

Of commitment,

And the exhaustion

Of desire.

The Friend Zone (Snippet)

I asked God for a soulmate,

But instead, He sent me

you.

Equipped with all the

Probability of a Love Story

That I did not plan for.

With an unripe heart

And underdeveloped writing skills

I toddled right into the friend zone…

…etched a permanent marking there.

I was allowed to rest my coat

And cool my heels.

Fields of Battle (Working Title)

The plain of my love for you

Is more like a battlefield

Than an open pasture where

The possibilities are endless,

And the hopes are high.

I feel compelled to crouch,

Position my heart low, and fight

Than spread my wings

For a flight’s anticipation.

I would much rather

Stretch out contentedly

Extend my legs and fingertips

To take in each blade of green

And ray of sunlight.

But,

Instead the ground is mud and soot;

Where I place one careful footstep

After the other.

Cautious and afraid,

Passing by dilapidated buildings…

In an area that was once my home.

The Answer (I Will Write For You)

I will write for you.

At times my mind can be rigid and afraid

Silent but focused for days.

Meanwhile my heart

Clamors about desperately

Intent on living life free

From worry or doubt.

Though these dual forces

War in fiery rivalry,

Both surrender themselves to

The mercy of my pen;

Subservient and hospitable.

I will channel my mind’s eye

Along with the fight of my heart;

Enclose it, with all diligence,

To present it upon special request.

…You asked of me,

So I’ll gratefully respond,

“Yes, friend, I will write for you.”

You recognize that others

Stand and applaud at my thoughts’ echo,

While,

The approval and jeers cultivate the wordsmith in me,

From finger snaps (unfortunately) to follow-up gigs

And opportunities for improvised truth.

But know that, for you,

I would contract my gift,

And destine an indefinite amount of my heart’s prose

In your honor.

I would risk the embarrassment of misunderstood theme,

Grammatical errors, and

Impartial rhyme and meter,

So that you could partake of the rawest, freshest scribes of me.

I will write for you.

Carpal tunnel and eye strain will be my companions;

Purging whatever I have in me [for you]

To give to you.

And though I am afraid of what you’ll do to/with my deepest expressions,

So costly and dear,

I fear more the regret of keeping them close.

Hovering over the very gift that I am not meant

To maintain or control.

To cheat my words of the right to an audience

With your heart.

So yes,

YES.

I will write for you.

And Then (Mini-Series. Part 5)

one day I will

fashion the words that

will make this love

tangible.

write the poem

that will

finally

give my pain

a purpose,

and

A hope to hold me;

making me brave enough

to wait for you.

Stick-Up. (Mini-Series. Part 4)

I came to you:
Level-headed and
Whole-heartedly
With
Flawless diamonds hidden behind my eyes,
and
a pure, expectant smile.

But,
you took what didn't belong to you.
And I want them all back,

you Thief.

Left-Out for Leftovers

I’m the girl made for
Second thoughts,
Lukewarm hand-me-down gestures,
And affections in the form of
His leftovers.

Figured I would be first in line
For
His fondness;
Yet I see that
My place had the stability
Of quicksand.

The [intimate] nickname I displayed proudly
Was not gold-plated or permanently mounted high,
Rather,
One of those thin, interchangeable
Plastic tags that can be switched
With another,
When there’s an adjustment in personnel.

I certainly have my pride.
So, I will quietly gather
What rightfully belongs to me
And love myself,
From now on…

Back to the Future

I wish to accelerate time
Defy natural law
Fast forward
To the moment where you
Love me better.
Wistfully you realize
That your Present Self is
In need of the Future You
A Prospect
In your former skin.
A Prototype
Of your future self.

You.
Powerless to give
And
Incapable of containing
Me.
Lacked essence
Meanwhile I spend mine into a void interdependence.
Loving the Idea of You.
I’m
Miserly with Moments
Courted by Glimpses
&
Wooed by Potential.

You are left dazed
By my excess
And ashamed
By your lack.
Quick trips to a hidden reservoir
Leaving me behind to
Maintain our Masquerade.

But I shall wait
Here.
Denying the traces of them
Who pale in comparison
To the You
That returns.

Patience. (Mini-Series. Part 2)

peculiar. it is.
while you
drift from
fear to love's folly,
and
one beautiful possibility
to another,
I.
stand next to you,
frozen in a solitary
teardrop,
and wait for you
to notice that it's
me
[holding your hand].