my box of journals caught fire

memories hold heat, see
above the box spring and mattress
I lay lit by your memory
back to the sheets
head slightly off the bed
then I dropped a thought of you.
just a small mental snap;
the curve of your back…
that’s the only kindling our heat needed to sizzle
now I’m drenched in fire~

Why do you crucify me
with sharpened words, as if somehow
your strength relies
on my weakness?

Nowadays, I feel less like lover
and more like sacrificial lamb
and though it's a role I've embraced
my eyes, are dampened daily with tears
that hold no miracle or favor

if I could, I would pull myself down from this cross  
but you drove the nails in too deep this time, and I
only have just enough strength
to turn this water into wine

I begged you to just hold on, hoping
things would get better with time, and that
we would build a shelter together, but

you couldn't, and
I understand why
but don't fault me because
I can't be your savior

*I would save you, if I could

the award for 'best sense'
goes to Touch.
let me prove it to you:
I can survive without
/seeing
/hearing
/smelling
/tasting
and though I'd love to see your eyes spark with passion
and though I'd love to hear your happiness when you succeed
and though I'd love to smell your aftershave in the morning
and though I'd love to taste your kisses created for me
I would rather cut off my tongue or gouge out an eye,
than live a day on this earth with no hands of yours in mine.

All this —
               was for you, old woman.
I wanted to write a poem
that you would understand.
For what good is it to me
if you can’t understand it?
                   But you got to try hard —
But —
        Well, you know how
the young girls run giggling
on Park Avenue after dark
when they ought to be home in bed?
Well,
that’s the way it is with me somehow.

I will never be mourned over
never be missed

I will never be cried over
So I slice my wrist

Today was interesting. I primed my walls. They used to be pink. Now I'm painting them grey. This is symbolic, I think. What would the girl who picked out the pink paint ten years ago think about her choices now? I don't know. It's pointless to ask. She won't answer.

The paint can looked like my fishbowl. My fishbowl is empty now. My fish died. He was purple. Until he died. Then he was grey. I poked him with a pencil. He felt funny. Definitely dead.

The fish was purple and then grey and dead. The walls were pink and then grey. Are they dead? Is my room dead? I think it might be. Or maybe I'm dead. I don't really know.

I feel dead sometimes. Today I ate a lollipop. I think I went numb because next thing I know the lollipop is gone and so is half the lollipop stick. It tasted like cardboard. It hadn't hurt me so far so I finished eating the cardboard-flavored lollipop stick. It made my stomach feel funny. But I wasn't numb anymore.

The way the moon hits the water
Is the feeling of the lost hope you gave me
A beautiful moon came down from space to be with me
Little I knew it was reflective
as are you
Reflective
Knowing that I wasn't alone
I had many stars to be there for me
And when I went to the shore it would be you And all my friends
I skipped a rock to count how many times it took to convince myself I was in an abusive relationship and I saw as the water warned the rock of its drowning
That you, my friends, my family
Were all just reflective and I
Sat there in the sand
Lighting a fire to see the smoke rise
And call you back down
Yet you never did
I was never warned
I was going to drown
I didn't even skip
And neither did you
The fire tonight
Looks a lot
Like our
Dead
Lost
Memories

It can’t hurt you,
But only make you fonder,
It silences the silence,
With beauty.

Makes you feel,
As if you’re in outer space.
No one can find you,
No one can hurt you.

Peace,
Makes you calm,
The only sound you hear,
Is the music making its way to your heart.

It’s a mist,
Only in the color your desire,
It moves around,
Slowly wrapping itself around your soul.

It’s emotional,
Can speak to you,
But the words soothe you,
Telling you to fly.

Music is made,
Sung,
And heard,
It’s what keeps us alive.
It’s what gives us life.

Get lost in the sweet, amazing feeling that I call music.  
                                                              ~d(-_-)b~

I look into the mirror,
And see my reflection.
It has changed so much,
Changed from when I was a child.

Tears sting my eyes,
Since I don't see the same face anymore.
I'm NOT the same person anymore.
My mind isn't tiny anymore.

I see traces of my family,
Inside my eyes,
Traces of me,
Inside my words.

But I cannot be the same person
Again.
I can't love the child,
That I once was.

I always wanted to grow up,
Now that dream came true.
I could never treasure the days being a child,
I am forever doomed.

My only wish is to be young again,
Free again.
But God has made His decision,
I can never be.

And now I'm looking at a mirror,
As a flashback washes over me,
I hate myself for what I did.
I hate that I never loved me.

I only have this mirror,
To remind me of my mistakes.
But at least I can go back,
And love the way I lived.