As the stars shoot past
lone survivors making
wishes beyond longing
for a dream, I recall the
gentleness of the lonely,
when solitude was more
than just a single number,
curled up in satisfaction
of something more, with
possibilities of the infinite
bound inside the realities
of one plus one equaling
more than just you and me,
where all the mathematics
blended into nothingness
until the stars shooting past
carried more than just wishes
of a change in the numbers.
I touched my own lips
in an attempt to remember
yours, where once had been
a gentle graze between two
hell bent lovers was a lonely
desperation- the days pass
in a slow haze, filled with a
longing since your absence,
rooted by the chains of half
memories playing on repeat.
I can do nothing but feel the
slow creep of numbness as I
count the tears that are falling,
making a wish with each drop,
for the redemption of our love
neither of us willing to lose.
The days fell to gray,
darkened by the turn
of winter’s kiss, where
the snow was meant to
fall as soft blankets of
white, creating visions
of a lovers wonderland,
hand in hand with the
night; yet the snow was
left shaken in a refusal
to fall, leaving an earth
left to gray, cold hearted
and bleak, with only the
falling of lovers to weep.
I’ve reached the crumbled shells
of disappointment rooted inside
your kiss – we’ve reached tattered
remains of lies and discontent in
the hours belonging to truth and
I cannot fathom how we got here.
It’s the loneliest hour as I am found
beside myself and beside the bed,
unable to crawl into the comfort
we had once shared, knowing that
you will not be there. I am hurting,
always hurting and you never saw.
I will myself not to cry, for my tears
will go unheard, with no release of
thoughts or pain, so I simply refrain.
I am the loneliest hour, pounding on
the doors of my own heart to let go;
I know disappointment far too well.
I watch as my love, my world,
begins to quake with the gentle
shakes of tears and silent pleas,
hovering in loneliness without
the touch of a delicate embrace
to ease away the troubled minds
of a heart left to break; with my
hands left grasping onto a shell
of the emptiness of another day,
I am left quivering in the silence
unable to mend my world, or fix
my own breaking heart, as I am
unable to save you from yours.
I curled up into your side
seeking warmth and truths
as you pulled me near you,
holding our breaths while
the last remaining seconds
of the sun had set, leaving
me with an overwhelming
loneliness of lies and chills.
You pulled me closer, as I
succumbed to the night –
Take me moon! Let me love
her again! Allow me to curl
into her arms, feeling every
ounce of her warmth, where
the moon cures my loneliness.
I.
I sabotage my own happiness
as a fear of letting go – leaving
behind the struggles, the empty
thoughts and feelings in which
I had tried to drown, and saying
goodbye to my own madness as
the only friend I knew. I crush
my own spirits as I am afraid of
the safety I feel from loving you;
you hold my heart so delicately,
in a promising way I never knew,
with gentle whispers of affection,
adorning my once self-demeaning
thoughts with the aspirations of a
future of happiness with you.
II.
I am used to the bleak and weary,
the self-inflicted pain, fleeing from
all signs of happiness, but now it is
your arms that I am running to. I
have sabotaged all our days, in the
ruins of our nights, I see my faults,
I know I am wrong, please tell me
I am not too late.
III.
Before you I was afraid of all the
things I couldn’t understand, and
I let that fear drive me to depths
of my undoing, but then you were
there to save me, and I was afraid
of the glaring truth, that I could no
longer save myself. I threw away
all chances of happiness as it was
a feeling I couldn’t grasp, and now
I’ve become the master of sabotage,
wondering if I can find the strength
to save myself from truly ruining us.
I bled out all my secrets
in exchange for one last
breath, thinking beyond
reason that I wouldn’t be
the one to drown; yet my
hidden truths and subtle
lies were an anchor that
was holding me down as
the words rushed in and
secrets bled out, and my
hope for a final breath to
plead for you not to listen,
sunk with my inhibitions
as I suffocated in my lies.
My words were harboring
at the deepest end, only to
burst on the surface at the
first sign of light – fighting
a losing battle against time
and the currents, making the
words stubborn, unattainable
at the heart, as I was left to
dwell alone in the shallows,
watching with a half heart
as my words were the only
cause to blame, as I lay back
submerging myself in relief
and guilt, as I lay drowning.
I brought only wildflowers
lost to the softest shadow of
a rose, expert in their travels,
knowing little of the leisurely
kind of love and less fragrant
than a promising heartbreak,
those wildflowers were all I
had – vibrant and yet hidden
behind thorns of another love.
I watched them wither away,
just like every dying rose, as
though no love could be saved.
Storylines in Verse 