You know…

I hate the fact that I can’t be phony.
That, I can’t pretend to like you when I don’t
and
The harder I try to think about what we had and who you were,
it doesn’t change that I don’t like who you’ve become.

It’s almost like nails on the chalk board when I think about you;
My eyes snap shut, I bite the inside of my lips to calm the nerve in my teeth and I quickly think of something else.
Something newer.

Bad as it seems, I miss you.
I miss your lies.
I miss being pushed to the side.
Most of all,
I miss the negative attention that I got from you.

I miss that heartless heart you hold captive in your chest cavity.
Karma.
Karma.
Karma.
Remember that name dear.
Lies only chase their tales and night runs until day catches up.

You and all of your false pretenses are missed.

I’ve Learned

I saw a rainbow…
It stood so… suspended between clouds and radiant against the light blue sea above.
I inhale deeply and smile.
I’ve come to love her like my next breath.
I’ve come to hold onto her sleeve in my sleep so that she won’t leave my side.
“Where are you going?” I ask waking up from a deep sleep, holding tight to her.
“To the bathroom.” She responds, and I let go. And I wait. With my eyes closed. To pretend I’m sleeping but I’m only waiting for her to lay back next to me.
She returns.
I push my butt against her stomach; we lay like spoons in the silverware drawer.
I am sleeping. Dreaming. Smelling and feeling her.
I saw a rainbow.
It stood so… suspended between clouds and radiant against the light blue sea above.
I inhale deeply and smile because I’ve come to love her like my next breath.

Dear Writer’s Block; Its Personal! So I Ramble

Serious case of writers block…

Aaaammmaazzinngg. I hate writers block

Words that I cant think of but words that lie on my brain.
Voice of Carrie Bradshaw “Try not to think about it.” you know? that shit sucks, cause when I don’t think about it, I REALLY don’t think about it and then I forget about it, then I forget the deadline, then when I remember the deadline it was yesterday. That damned writers block!

AAANNNND, Why can’t I be a lesbian columnists? Cause I don’t fall into that damned stereotype of wild nights partying at clubs in the city and fucking everything that moves! [nod, nod]
Okay. I’m just a boring dyke.

I don’t want to write “Adult” material anymore!!!! [stomp! Stomp! Folds arms and pouts] It’s sooo fucking redundant!

O, writers block, you’ve made it so hard for me. You’ve upset me and now I must rebel. [writing anyway]

Best Part of Believe

She stands in front of me telling me many promises with her eyes and I ignore them.

            She stands behind me and holds me with her believable lies and I fall…

She tells me, “The best part of ‘believe’ is the l-i-e.”.

                        So… But..

I spend every waking moment wishing for her to be near me, and I’m almost sure she feels the same way. I spend every unconscious slumber seeing her, and I know she is near. There are so many moments between us that I wish I could carry with me but they are intangible.

            But now, I’m an option.

She doesn’t call me anymore, and my emotional stability is one of a bi-polar emo chick, so I’m not caring one way or the other, until I am caring again. I will ditch the ditcher before she knows what hit her. I hit the delete key as easy as I breathe and I ignore all phone calls cause it’s just that easy.

We can mess it up.

She told me, the best part of believe is the l-i-e. I see now. I know what she means. It cant be explained but it’s true. It’s one of those things you have to feel to know.

            She found someone new. I was of the moment and now I’m of the past. It’s acceptable. But.

I shouldn’t have believed those l-i-e’s.

Let’s Mess it Up

Lets take all the sounds we made and trash them.

 

We hit that delete key.            Erased the past.

 

“We’re not ‘friends’ anymore” I spit like venom. Her eyes read of sorrow.

“why?” she exhales.

 

I think before I speak. I think I wanna say, because you hurt me. I held you close to me emotionally. I let you in. tears want to pound the desk beneath me. I care about you! Snow fills my brain and cloudy forecasts become my emotions. 99.9% chance of rain, then ice, and I’m cold to her again.

 

“Why?” she asked. I think I wanna say, I almost loved you! You… almost made me love you. Almost doesn’t count. I have no reason to explain to her why I am hurt or why I need distance without her thinking I am crazy. All I have is this poem. This is why.

 

“we just can’t”  I say lowering my head and my voice.

“you’ve been doing this since day one! all the time!” she’s upset now. Fire fills her words and the spaces between them. I am left with the thoughts of her hurting me and she has no idea why I need to get away. She has no clue that I need protection.

“is this what you really want? Let me know!” she says. I want to nod my head yes and say no.

Yea, but, I almost loved you. I think. And here you go, making others almost love you. You think that what I said was a lie!? All the words I wrote for you were pulled from air and all the times I wanted to be near you was just because? I almost loved you. Just go away. I don’t want to almost anything in your direction anymore.

“I don’t know” I become inconsistent and wish I could retract those words. Suck them up like a tornado and destroy this whole situation. “I mean, yes, yes, that’s what I want.”

 

She hangs up. she walks away. She disappears. I feel after her for some comfort on my part but the space is negative, here comes the rain. To wash away the snow and settle into ice.

            She is soon forgotten.

The Afterthought

Oh, I wanna run from the fact that you make me wanna love you.
I wanna know your soul and dust away your pain.

I want to escape from your eyes when you look at me.

Oh, I can imagine you, giving me little kisses on my cheeks while I lay next to you, quietly, holding my breath so you won’t take it away.

“Come here? Why are you so far from me?” I whisper. I think, I wanna feel your warmth.

This is something like energy. I feel you and you feel me.
With miles between us I can feel you feeling me. It’s just like energy.

I can smell your emotions coming my way without even looking.
This is us.

Something like, connected at the soul. Could you be the missing part of me?

Passionately I consume your image into my memory and dream of you constantly while we carry artificially simulated relations and I make love to you like the first time in my imagination cause I breathe you whenever I see you and I need you whenever I miss you I crave something to hold you by and something to smell you by and something to feel you by like your hands and the way I rub them passionately because I just want to kiss each finger then kiss below your lips and linger for a long time or perhaps a hairsbreadth longer than long because all it takes is one smile from you and I wanna stay a while to make sure you don’t forget me and to ensure no limit to the memory of the way we share something so innocently lovable and how it’s impossible to forget you.

Stop Stalking Me

I blocked your number.
I blocked your myspace.
I blocked your twitter.
I blocked your facebook.

It just so happens that I can’t block you on my wordpress… hmmm…

Well, I’m going to say this, once I don’t like you, my mind is made up. AND. My mind is made up. You are the past and you have done something that I will not forgive you for. Ever. You lied and I cant stand your ass. You are an enemy. I don’t forgive. Wont forgive you. Move on cause I have.
You know who you are, and if you need a hint, comment this, and I’ll be sure to fill your ass in.
Now shoo!!! You bug me!

Happy

Awkwardly content today.
Sadly happy about something.

They say Misery loves company…
Well where the hell is she?
I could use a companion right now.

Thoughts of a Manically-Depressed Robot

Everything makes perfect sense.
I am stuck in a circle.
ROUND and ROUND we goooo

Attracting those that are like me but saying they’re wrong.
I am deeply wounded and searching.
I am vulnerable and not afraid to admit it.

Screaming at the world becomes so tiresome.
I’m craving that care that I’ve been missing for so long.
It stings sometime.

Home is where the heart is…?
Then I’m fucked!

Do you see me here?
Can you hear me?

I feel like I’m going crazy.

I need to be free!
Release me!

“Keep up! keep up! You little bitch!”

I’m lost.
Mellow-dramatic, confused child bleeds through me.
I am soo fucked up I cant even walk straight.
Give me…
Time. Please. I will catch on.

I’m just a little slower than the rest.

I’m sorry, I don’t mean to cry. I cant help it. My heart hurts. My soul hurts.
Where is she?
She doesn’t see me.
She doesn’t feel me.
Orphan.
I am short circuiting.

Sometime I cry and reach for her.
Like I’m 2.
Like she’s perfect.

Sometime.

It doesn’t make perfect sense anymore.

Round and round I goo…
I wanna go home.

Home is where the heart is?

Well, I’m just fucked!

I Like How She Likes Me

She likes me. The color of my hair. The smell of my skin. The color of my eyes.

She likes me.

The blonde tips of my eyelashes, she loves.

The curve of my lips… she loves.

My tattoos, she loves.

Sitting, patiently, the anticipation builds up inside of me. She told me she’ll come right back, but that was a few minutes ago. I sigh to myself. I think of her. Sighing and thinking… of her, then she appears and I stand up. “Sit down” she says to me softly, so softly, it’s almost inaudible. She removes me from this world and makes me feel like a woman. How does a woman feel like a woman naturally? There’s no sure answer, but she did it.

She likes me.

She sits down next to me and gently swipe a few curls out of the way, then leans in and kisses me on my cheek. My heart beats faster. She smells like … like… the scent of heaven and I want to go there with her. Let her know that I am a believer. She puts her hand on my lower back and kisses my neck. Collar bone. Chest. She returns to me and kisses my lips. Ahh. I sigh. Does she know I love her? I wonder. Her skin, smooth, against mine. Kiss me again, I think, and she does! She kisses me like she loves me too!

She likes me

There’s a song in my heart and the title is her name. Every lyric of the song is her name. I love her name. Her hand drops to my lap and she rubs my thigh through my skirt. Touch me! Please?…

To Be Continued…