I see people writing poem after poem on here,
and i wonder,
did you write them all by candlelight, and save them up for when you found your audience?
Or did you sit and get drunk and write them whilst smoking cigarettes, and crying,
all over the keyboard.
Or was it a carefully, logically, formatted feeling that you had to edit, to, get, it just, right?
Aaahaaa...
I wonder if you know what you are saying.
If you know that your infinitesimal pieces of work, are akin to a 16yr old's journal from circa 1984?
That if you could read it from this angle, or that angle, it could mean one or two things, and i am sure that you meant neither of them.
And i am thinking, that if i could i would throw away the internet and its black hole, that we all get ****** into,
I would give you one gold plated pen with black writing ink,
and a limited supply of scrolls of parchment made by sunlight and cotton;
because i wonder whether you would be so flippant with your words,
your feelings,
your punches,
your understanding,
your emotions,
your reflection,
your heart.
Because this makes us quicker, faster, harder, stronger.;
holding out for a white page to fill with words,
for lightening bolts of appreciation.
Is this not the cycle you wish to escape my love?
Was this not what you wanted?
Did you not want him to walk away?
Did you not want her to cheat?
Did you want them to fight, see you more clearly, understand you better, expect a little bit more respect, demand a little bit more attention, more patience, loving acceptance, a mutual respect?
What are you doing with these words, that you throw down like a gauntlet?!
Like you throw down venomous poison that you are trying to rid from your body, out from your curs-ed mouth, through your fingers, on to a keyboard, and out in to a a-nomy-nous world.
I wonder if you think of these things as you listen to love songs, driving in the rain, in the dark, suffocating on tears?
Do they fester in your head all day as you serve self-righteous morons who have no idea of your tortuous pain?
Do you lightly tread, whilst someone is sleeping in your bed, to the keyboard and type out how much you love them, and how much you are in love, alone, to the monitor, to nameless faces.
Do you have a soap box? Have you hammered on the desk in the rising light of your passion and dignity, and justice for all, in the name of love?
Have you wrote a letter lately?
When was the last time you held a pen for more than a few seconds?
When was the last time you cried into the ink, sprayed it with perfume, or S.I.W.A.L.K?
Or told someone you loved them with a million reasons why, with your own voice, into their eyes, to their face?

I just wonder, how much these words are worth, if we don't say them,
out loud.

You told me you loved me,
a cursed lie from the cracked dead lips of a dead one.
You see your words are rotten and putrid,
flys around me like decayed flesh down to my very bones.
Consumed I am now the living dead,
my eyes are blind, my desire is you,
and nothing will stop me til i taste you.
You told me you loved me,
from eyes that are old and weary.
Seen things they shouldn't have,
they are blind to the living.
Exceptional delusional deceiving wonders of light,
in the darkest deepest most terrible night.
You tell me you love me,
from areas of your body you knew never existed before.
I am black and blue from arms that never held me,
from the *** we never had.
I am consummated by love and death,
my virginity laid within your lifeless, blistered hands.
You told me you loved me,
and there are flames in your words.
They lick the very part of me, like paper, i am ash,
Falling through my own fingers, I am death known,
and to myself i wonder, this is really love?
As i watch love destroyed by love.

This is me, Rachael.
I would die from a papercut and blame it on the finger.
I would argue with an eraser if the words didn't look right.
I would tell the moon to shine all day just to ******* the sun.
I see colours in my imagination; my dreams are wild and beyond comparison.
I tend to love too hard and quickly get burnt by the one I flew so high for.
I read too much and believe in past lives.
I forgive but don't forget.
My trust is willing but protects my heart like a guardian of fate.
I will be silent when someone talks ****, because I don't take fools gladly, and a wise man never responds to defecation of verbal ignorance.
I willingly argue my point in my head til you know I have analysed my response.
Nothing is taken lightly.
I would argue that the road is really hard and quite weary, and curse my boots as they hit the hallowed ground.
I am impetuous, I rush in, I seek thrill and danger.
Hedonism is my game; I play deftly with an air of mastery.
I am sensitive. As skin is to the weather. A gust of harsh wind could ******* away.
This is me; only a slight composition of who I am, and what I am made of.
And I make no apology.

I didn't expect such an eloquent piece of work to slip from your mouth,
An amazing set of words put together as intricate an atom bomb,
Or as an improvised explosive device, so i see,
Thus I must be careful where i tread my glass slippered feet,
and be aware of what breath of words expels from my lips.

I never expected such a skill set of destruction and warfare,
From a beautiful mouth, so deceptive, that it almost seems,
you are an undercover lover,
both beneath the sheets, and between distinguished conversations,
regarding such tentative ideals of love and the ambiguity of trust.

A terrorist it seems amongst the ranks with a finger on the trigger,
with a finger on my lips, and a whisper hush in my ear.
It seems i was blind to your type of sweet deception;
There are codes i didn't understand, and my mind was melting,
from the heat of your touch and the sublime twist of your hips.

I can see your eyes ready to deploy a subterfuge of promises,
as they look into the distance calculating the logistics,
of this moonlight illicit flit of passion;
Never did i expect such an eloquent transpose of intentions,
Even remarkably as this feels like the Romeo and Juliette of modern times.

I am the 'x marks the spot' in no-mans-land it seems,
I am the calm after the storm in the aftermath of your expostulation,
You, my love, are a sublime soldier in this battlefield we call 'togetherness'.
No-one asked you to go to this infernal devastating war;
Yet i long for your return from the eternal, internal battle,
you fight between your heart and your head.

I love you like i loved you, like the sun burns the sky and is a torch for those who are lost and alone and depressed. I love you like i would carve it into a tree, to live forever with the sky and the lovers that pass, lying underneath in the grass; i love you like i would carve it deep into my forearm as though it would scar my skin and i would have it forever lain in front of me. I love you like the ocean feels the sand, and moulds a new earth each time it moves, silently strong and forceful in its journey to meet the shore. I love you like i have lost a thousand hearts and found one in the aftermath of joyous destruction and creation of myself.

I love you like a wall clings to the cold, as i cling to the cold wall, as the wall stands strong and upright and strangely comforting in its form. I love you like i loved you, before the moon rose from the forest, and the sun went to bed in the desert, and each day was renewed at the same time it was ending. I love you like the music that never stops but gives me a ferocious appetite for passionate forever afters, and fairytales of magnificent lust, loss, betrayal and denial, and finally the happy ending. I love you like the birds love the sky, how the wings feel the freedom in flight, how the flap of a wing creates an invisible echo through the invisible air.

I loved you like i loved the scent of the forest after the rain, after the time had stopped and started again, and there was a moment in all of the moments, where i could see the drop of rain die upon the ground and begin again in the earth. I love you like i lost you; an old penny from my purse, an old reciept for that thing i wanted to return but never did, like my mind that runs from the heart that beats inside of me for you. I love you as i love the old time western movies, I love you like i love the good times from my childhood, innocent and happy, i love you as i remember those things i had forgot in forgetting the bad times.

I love you like the grass that lives on despite what horrid beings we are in the way we trample over it with no respect for its grace of being alive for us, and has withstood the test of time to be here. I love you like i loved you, like the stars internally combust to be born, a black firework that no-one can see, hear, feel, touch or sense, like the dried coffee cup laid out to be cleaned with remnants that you were 'here'. I love you like i love words, I love you like i love the meaning in the verb, the noun, the alliteration, the juxtaposition, the allegory of sea faring tales of pursuit, courage and defiance and success.

I love you like i love you. I love you like i expect to love you. I love you from my mistakes, my pride, my egoism, my negative voices, my shaking hands, my pain. I love you from my freedom of loving you, from the cartwheel, candy floss, on-the-edge of the world, 'hold on to your pants', rollercoaster, anticipation of unspoken words, the promising anticipated kiss and the touch from your skin to mine, kind of once-in-a-lifetime, love.

I loved you like i love you, like i love you, like i loved you.
For all these reasons are unknown and known and forgotten and remembered,
I love you, with every cigarette stained breath, from every sip of *****, from every regretful one night stand.
I love you, from the ink stained fingers of writing forget me not, from the abundance of joy in my heart, and the exploding passion in my volcanic mind, and from the look in my wise deserving eyes.

I loved you, for loving you, for loving's sake, and for you, for me and for, love.

I have been away.
I have been away for a long, long time.
There are things to finish, that i never started,
that i never even planned for,
but it's there.
I have been lost,
I have been lost, for a long, long time.
There are things to find, that were never lost,
that i never even knew existed.
I have been complacent,
I have been complacent, because i didn't have to be,
that i never expected,
that have been waiting for.
I have been loving,
I have been loving, even when it wasn't warranted.
There was love without love,
that has been devastated and ruined.