I’ve bitten my tongue so many times,
my mouth is lined with scars,
sealing away the words I long to speak,
so they don’t wound you where you already bleed.

But the silence is heavy, and so am I—
weighed down by words unspoken,
by love held too carefully in shaking hands,
afraid to crush you, afraid to lose you.

I want to be patient, to be kind,
to trust in the things you’ve told me,
but my mind is a restless thing,
spinning doubts like spiderwebs,
catching my hope in threads of fear.

Because I know you love me—
but love has never been my safe place.
Love has always been a thing
that slips between my fingers,
even when I hold it with both hands.

So when you tell me you’re coming,
when you say I am the one you want,
a part of me clings to the words,
while another waits for them to fade,
to turn into echoes of promises past.

And maybe that’s why I can’t breathe
when I watch you stand in the rain,
drenched in a debt you never had to pay.
You think you owe her,
but you don’t owe her a ******* thing.
Not your time, not your strength,
not your love, not your future.

And me? I am here, dry and warm,
with open arms and an open door,
and a love that does not ask for sacrifice,
only for you.

But is it fear that keeps you there?
Or is it that I am something to want,
but not something to choose?
Do I exist in the space between your steps,
always longed for but never reached?

I do not doubt you, but I doubt love.
I doubt the things that have never stayed,
the dreams that have always been just out of reach.
I war with myself, torn between believing
and protecting the parts of me
that have been left behind before.

But you are not them.
And I do not want to let fear
build walls where doors should be.

So come home to me.
Not because I need you,
but because you need this.
A love without chains,
a life without guilt,
a place where you can just be
without always fighting to be enough.

And still, I stand at the edge,
staring down into the fall,
wondering if I will be caught,
or if I will crash—
just another foolish heart
that believed in something too much.

I go out of my way
to make people laugh
Because
people
went out
of their way
to make me cry.

I Will Combat
belligerent
ignorance
Every. *******. Time.
In My Way.

Saying Nothing
Encourages the
choking vines
to thrive,
nurturing Silence.

I heal hearts--
Ignorance took
a running start
to push over
My resolve.

Rip up the page,
Start again.
Another person
Stopped Listening.

I go out of my way
to brighten someone's day
Shared Laughs,
Shared Smiles.

How
Someone
Made You Feel--
That
Is what
You remember.

Do I need to
Be Remembered?
I would like to be.

But
If I have only
ever touched
your life
Once
I hope
You Remember
How
I made you feel.

i'm a light machine gun.....
locked up and loaded in rounds......
firing all kinetic energy and reason..........
across the trenches and the fields i've sent..........
pistols, shotguns, autos to their knees.........
but as i unlock and reload and cool down..........
and the panicked silence settles in.........
i have to ask in kind......

s n i p e r..

do i have your eye?

Sitting in my room,
time drags, slow and heavy.
Is this what it means to mature?
Sitting, studying, working—
or does the weight of it make me feel grown?

I feel tired,
yet the hours demand more.
Working, working...
this night stretches long,
a weary silence pressing in.

Barking sounds stir me—
had I drifted off?
Is this what it means to mature?

The cigarette burns,
whiskey half-empty,
I stare at the ceiling—
my body frozen,
like time itself has died.

Maybe if I stare long enough,
you’ll walk through that door,
say, “It’s not your fault,”
and we’ll hug,
but the silence cuts through,
and you’re already gone.

Maybe I should have kept quiet,
my words too heavy for you to bear.
Your foot told me so,
and your hands agreed,
gripping the wheel,
not steering,
but letting go.

I wish I could wipe your tears,
hold your shattered heart
and stop the screaming,
but it’s too late.

So you accelerate,
and I’m left in this stillness,
a wreck that never crashed.

All the words
that never left my mouth
creep through my veins
filling the hollows of my mind
and my lungs with stone
encasing the very essence of me
in lead

weighing me down
as the murky depths
of a world
that never knew
I was drowning
beckons

I never knew you wore a mask,
Not one stitched of velvet and lace,
But something deeper, carved in silence,
A role you played without a stage.

They called you charming, bold, and bright,
A leading star in life's cruel play,
But now I sift through tattered pages—
Scripts you wrote, then cast away.

Each line rehearsed, each smile strained,
A careful act, a practiced art.
But somewhere in the endless stage,
You lost the echoes of your heart.

Did you ever dream of slipping out,
Of shedding costumes, painted grins?
Or did the role become so seamless
You forgot where it begins?

Your laughter filled the hollow halls,
Your voice rang sweet, devoid of doubt.
Yet I can see it now—between the lines,
A silent plea you dared not shout.

And when the curtain slowly fell,
Did you expect a standing cheer?
Or did you hope, in some cruel mercy,
That no one saw you disappear?

I found the notes you never spoke,
The truths you buried in your chest.
The world’s applause still lingers hollow,
Yet you have finally found your rest.

So take your bow, oh phantom friend,
Beneath the lights that burn so bright.
I only wish I'd seen you sooner,
Before you faded into night.

You can hear the violence in the silence
Even when the rain washes your tears –
  some pain still reigns; man sailing thru

These clouds, and their tears galore; wouldn’t
You know every tomorrow comes too late –
  exorcisms to clear those who’ve ghosted you

The past hangs on an arm’s annexation
Holding the reigns of your mind’s territory –
  we wake as soldiers, ready to fight today

Winning small battles means nothing to war  
A world of peace could exist, en route to God –
   we could go as far, by how long we pray

I could have seen you yesterday,
Recalling a lover’s patch of kisses –
signing that love pact. War over love,
though when is love enough
for all wars to be done?

A world of peace could exist,
but it would mean we all don’t exist.

The night draws me back into myself
Quiet, contemplative
Soaking in the events of the day in my mind
All the words said and left unsaid
All of that which I share
And all of that which I withhold

And it does not mean that privacy does not beget openness
For underneath one,
two and
three layers are
many layers more
Should one reveal all
To invite disrepair many times more?

However, in my daily privacy
My heart joins too
I find myself distanced from
Those near me too
And I wish it were not the way it were
But I bide my time
Comfortable in my self-peace