Wreckage

He is taking time to 'think'

I asked him to

I already know what he will say

It will not be good.

I'm being strong, methodical

DO NOT CRY

I write in caps on my hand.

And I don't.

And as my heart shatters in to a thousand shards

I keep smiling

He said he couldn't put his finger on it

Everything was perfect

But there was something that didn't fit:

Me.

I felt that fleeting perfection

but I never had a chance,

there was something missing:

Him.

If only he had loved me

I would have given him all of myself

Every last drop I would have wrung and squeezed out

for Him.

I don't want to think. Or cry. Or hate.

I just want to find oblivion in the arms of another.

And I will.

Be destroyed.

What sweet pain it will bring.

To fuck without deception

No false, cruel eye-gazing

or loving touches without love

Just raw, unfeeling, uncaring, oblivion.

The peddler

I suppose I may have been fishing.

Not ready for "I love you's" but baiting for an indication.

Whispered "I think I may be falling in love with you" as we lay.

But I do, I do love him. Well, have love for him.

Feel that welling inside.

The 'in love' may follow.

He didn't push away, but pulled me closer if anything.

He made his excuses -garbling, confused in my mind.

His actions undermining his words.

But.

There were words.

Strung together.

Lapsing, erroneous,

At times incomprehensible, perhaps.

But.

A message?

There, he held our future. I felt it keenly.

Flashbacks to loves of old.

A message I should heed?

But I can't.

I won't lie.

He isn't 'just another' for me.

But I can't be unrealistic, as for him I may well be.

But he's asked for time, time that will make a queen or a mockery of me.

Perhaps I am convenient?

Girlfriend-experience as they call it.

Bring me the fuck with meaning - the support when I need it.

Skip the integration and cohabitation.

I am strong.

But not nearly as hardened as he presumed

Still Achilles.

Still, a heart that doesn't break is no heart at all.

poker face

I hate this uncertainty

Visited upon me

But I am so, so

Transfixed

Waiting

To see your hand

Mindfuck

I want you deeply
Wholly
Within my head

Forty Fathoms

Absorbed

And when we kiss

Submit soft lip to lip

Absorb that vital charge

And waltz electric

Reel backwards, inwards, onwards

Heavy eyes, once opened

Succumb to mist

See in yours cloud lifting

blood bath

Deep Tarocco sanguine
Flowing steadily faucet-wise
On my back I watch my toes rise and curl
Raise my hips upon my palms and point
Up to a fleckled ceiling of swirling shadows
As the candles flicker as a whisper
escapes my lips:

"The night is only a sort of carbon paper,
Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of stars"

Half in smugness for recalling the line
But most because my muscles keel
Splayed, I sink into the lapping tides
Overflowed gushing crimson makes wet
And did you know the hands are barely visible
From the bottom that is,
And that the bubbles were uniform at best
but still made an adequate beard?