Breaking Up

Destined to travel tired lines,
they weave in and out of one another.
The words upon them jumble, fumble for a meaning.
I merely follow their path, shrugged hopes fall.

If I told you that I didn’t want you there,
Walking the same lines as I do now
Would you lose control and let anger take its toll?
Or would you be kind and let me go,
Kiss goodbye and say no more?

‘Cause there’s a point where I have to stop lying
And I’ve reached the limit, passed the line
Now will you believe me when I say you’ll be fine?
For without me, you can breathe
And without you, I can do whatever I want to.

So don’t be scared to be alone
It’s much better than the torture you may feel,
and I can’t sleep in your bed or have you living in my head,
I need you gone, but I need your smile
To know that I haven’t done us wrong.

Simple Words

These words so foreign to my lips.
When will my voice be able to say it?
I hope it will soon come to me,
just like the way it falls from your tongue
Every night i hear its precious truth,
Still I cannot seem to simply speak.

The time you are not around me
It flows like a raging river,
crashing at the shores of people;
their shoes drenched with the phrase.
The strangest part is that it comes from me.
They all appreciate these false words

I remember a time when they were familiar,
passed off with a smile and their truth.
When they fall from my mouth before you,
can you not tell of all their simplicities?
The way my voice carries them lightly,
their faltering steps between what is real.

For now I will respond in silence,
thanking you for your honesty
The reasoning escapes me too;
of why everything is so new to me,
why I lost the ability to be genuine,
why I cannot say “I Love You”

anymore.

Dear You

I asked for help
I got it
(to an extent)
now my time has run out
understandable.
Deep depths of darkness are forming inside of me…I can feel them as always, but this time they are bigger like never before.

It is my turn to help you
(so I do…to all extents)
still I ask certain things…small things…
apparantly they are pushed off

I still need a push in the right direction
I have an addiction I admit to (first step done)
Lately I have been ridding myself of it…I asked you to help by doing (or not doing) something simply for me…you promised and said OK.
You broke that promise…multiple times, lied in the process.

Trust.

What an impossible thing for me to give.
I have given it to very few people in this world (and much fewer guys for that matter)
Gave it to you – I was sure of you.
You took it, you broke it.
Again.
And again.
I’m not exactly angry
Repulsed by the fact you for some reason cannot think of me and my feelings and needs at night.
Not so much repulsed as sad;
that you have shown me I’m alone again. As always.
My addiction grows and nags
Oh, I will feed it.
Only when I’m with you – that is the safe time to do it.
I might slip, because I no longer have any support here. You decided to give up and walk out – quite early for that matter.

It is a simple task, for you
(not me)
and still I’m the one able to do it?
that doesn’t make much sense.
Why do you want to leave me alone here?

It’s not just because it’s my addiction, I don’t feel comfortable with it in the first place.
It is dirty (in a bad way)
It is pathetic
It is always hurtful when you are thinking about someTHING else – it is just as bad as thinking as someBODY else. Now I know it’s hard to stop the thoughts in your head so I’m not asking you to…just saying, hey thse thoughts about this may wander into your head from time-to-time, just smile at them and push them off to the side like any other human being (mostly Christians though). If people can do it for a whole lifetime, why can’t you just wait two fucking weeks? Like I’ve been doing for the past two months, alone apparently.
In a relationship it should not be needed…something I’m trying to prove and you’re trying to disprove apparently.

I love you terribly, too in love with you in fact. Way too much that these things hurt (even though they are probably so finite and I’m probably overreacting again…right?).
Please help me, please.
It is in the simplest of ways and I’m begging not to be alone any longer. Please. Just promise and don’t break it. I’m dying here.
I need to sleep at night
It takes hours to allow my mind to pass
(especially last night when I ended up not sleeping because of all the emotions plus the addiction).
Is it really that difficult?
Would you prefer that over me?
Of course you wouldn’t…so why do it?

Stupid questions…but please answer them.

This isn’t it
definately not it. Not it. Not it.
I have so much bottling up inside of me.
I’m not asking you to do anything besides LISTEN to me.
I NEED somebody to say all my feelings to, my thoughts…before I explode.
I have been hiding so many things from you in the past month in fear that you’ll just ignore them when I speak them. It would make me feel terribly little.
Really, is it much to ask for you to just listen and respond every-now-and-again, or at least just let me know you’re there for me?
You know how I’m always concerned about you.
Are you not for me?
Of course you are.
Well then just please listen.
If I talk to THEM about it anymore, they’ll just blame it on you and say shit like “It’s his fault, leave him”.

They don’t know things like this would be in me with or without you.
Well some of them…that would be impossible (Don’t worry, you’ll understand if you would allow me to talk about them…allow me to unload and for you to actually pay a-fucking-ttention).

My love, I want us to be perfect.
So I gave up on myself only to see that I’m OK.
I put almost all my efforts towards making sure WE are ok now.
Still I have these thoughts that need to be let out, and it seems like you are so reluctant to allow them to set free.
I cry twice a day
– did you forget about that?
if you did, fine.
if you didn’t…can’t you try and help me stop? All I need is somebody to talk to. That’s fucking it.

It is so depressing when I feel like it’s impossible to come to you.
I want to come to you so badly.
I want you to listen, be concerned, and respond when you have something thoguhtful/enoucrging//anything to say at all. That is it.
Why the fuck is it always made out that I’m asking too much???
THIS IS NOT MUCH TO ASK.

Other girlfriends would call you an insensitive moron…but I know you differently so I’m not going to do that. I have no idea why you seem to ignore me most of the time I speak – maybe I’m just mumbling too much if so ask me to repeat or whatever. Who knows.

Fuck this. Fuck me. Fuck it. Whatever.

Why I Cry At Night: Phase Two

The smoke seems to slowly disappear. Wane off with that same air and is suddenly replaced by another painted picture…this on consists of me lying beside Him with sheets covering our shivered bodies as we wrap ourselves quietly into each other and wonder what we could do with our time. Our short, precious time.

The part that gets me here is that I lean over and I tell you secrets of my life and I whisper words of the future I want to have with you and then your simple responses and no returns make me question things. I speak of children, family, loving life to its fullest, traveling, really just LIVING and you say “Ok” and then go back to sleep. I stare at your beautiful face and look into those eyes of molten chocolate (as I have always described them) and you apathetically lay there before me. Would it kill you to spontaneously tell me what you think about me with words falling truthfully out of your mouth (with no thought whatsoever) instead of with highly concentrated words that fell from ink or fingertips. Even if you want to tell me something bad about myself – at least it would be fucking truthful and I could believe it to its fullest. I just tell myself; He needs time, he does not know how relationships really work yet, I shall give him that time. But it kills me.

I want (I know, it sounds like I am whining now but remember the purposes of these writings and I will re-explain at the end of this passage) to feel your hand over my womb and your breath hot in my ear telling me how much you desire me and your body showing it. I want to feel those fingertips on my body instead of pressing buttons and I want them to feel me tremble beneath their touch and then tremble in return but instead I get a wide-eyed expression and nothing more. How about randomly kissing my cheek and telling me how you feel about me at that moment?

Or giving to me a promise you know you will not forget and know you can keep.

I am ‘whining’ and typing these things because I was asked a little while ago why I cry at night…so I am doing many passages on the exact reasons of why I cry at night (the biggest reason at the top). Phase three is next!

Why I Cry At Night: Phase One

I love you. I love you. I am IN love with you. Madly so.

Where are you tonight? (Where is your boy tonight)? I have a picture painted in my mind of you sitting amongst a darkened room with the only light being filtered in is that which radiates from a flat screen portraying brutality upon it…brutality which you can control. Violence at your fignertips but calm is in your redened eyes that graze your porceiln skin. I’ve seen you look like that before, so I imagine it now inside my mind with great detail. I can see the walls, a certain other party leans against it softly as he watches what you can do on a television screen with a simple control. Laughter spills out from time-to-time, pure concentration (or the purest form in this inebriated state of mind) is used other times. What is it you are thinking about? Just the buttons below your fingers and the pictures on the screen (and when you are going to feel sweet release filling up your lungs again). What am I thinking about, 52.46 miles away from that dim room? I am thinking about a beautiful mind with potential and greatness locked into it, stuffed away behind society’s walls. This mind sticks in mine every constant second of everyday, it always fucks up my life on its way out! With this mind I see creations being born, I see utterly disorganized creative brilliance waiting to be unleashed…And when it is. By God! I have never seen something more spectacularily, abstractly, amazing in my entire life. Words cannot describe (cliche, ‘eh?) what I see when this mind does what it is capable of doing. I think of that mind, and then I think of a boy. This boy sits standing on the bottom step of a basement staircase beside an opened window, the cool winter breeze of mid-November trickling in and brushing his (to me) flawless face. A lighter flickers on in his hand; frail, battered, cut-up, small, gentle, hand…and with that flame his relief burns in a glass bowl and filters down into water that bubbles with his breath. Certain smoke emulates upwards and fills the paraphernalia full and then it disappears into his small lungs which should not be able to handle the hit – but they somehow can. His eyes dialate. His lips upturn and open to release smoke into the air that presses at his features. Where to now? Aye, yes. Rejoin the world which at the moment is a blue bean bag chair in front of an excessive television screen. What is my world at the moment? A world filled with worry, a world wondering if it is being lied to at the moment. A world full of broken promises.

I worry that one day this boy’s mind will no longer be able to take the abuse being handed out to it. I worry that one day he will forget to ever return back to the REAL reality where us other people reside. I worry that one day the violence will consume his otherwise peaceful mind and his fingertips will not be able to stop. I worry, because I love you. After the worry comes the guilt. The guilt from holding you down from what you want to do – but how can I stop trying to hold you back from some of these nights? I want so badly to hear your voice so it is easier to carry on in this hellhole; yet instead without even heartfelt words I hear “Ok, bye” whispered into my ear through a oddly shaped device and then….beep….the dial tone rings and I feel like crying. Sometimes I do cry…but then I tell myself not to be stupid. After the guilt and the shame of sheding tears goes away, something else replaces it. More questions. Why? Am I doing the right thing? Should I intervene more aggressively? Am I worrying with correct pretenses? Does this happen every night when he calls so late after hanging out, every night? Does this happen every night when he says to me “Oh, I was just really caught up in the book I was reading” – was he? Is it right for me to be questioning the one I love like this? I ward off others so easily, but they would not give me this worry…I hold back on a healthy relationship that I would be thoroughly satisified with MYSELF in, but instead I do not. This is only one of the problems. I would enjoy it if he were here when I need him the most but instead, a dial tone still greats my sadness instead…can he not tell that something is wrong by my silence, the tone of my voice, my set-back nature. Just because I say I am fine, it does not mean it (it usually means the opposite).

Phase Two to come.