Nightmares

Tears are welling up, just as I hoped they wouldn't, and I have to blame you. Favorite films are tainted with you, and I can't seem to find the proper cleanser to do away with the stains; why'd you have to come about and make your mess? Dirty kisses are all over, and the overwhelming mountain of them leave me to contemplate that which I thought I had left behind. Why'd you have to come about making your mess? No one can clean it up, not even you.

Ease

The ease in which your lips form impeccable doses of sensuality has yet to cease to amaze me. Once again you've proven that with eyes closed loving you would still be the euphoria I'm indulging in my present. The magic you possess isn't crude charm; your gift to melodiously tempt me to satisfy all of your will, along with your restraint in not abusing my naïveté fuels this monstruous and all consuming fire.
The ease in which your lips form perfectly the only words I need to hear is unnaturally, yet easily, the most beautiful memory you've left with me.

Adoration

Sensual expressions have eradicated, and at last, I've kissed the waters of inspiration. Ephemeral perhaps, but I feel an abundant happiness that can be identified in the depths of my heart, the deep of my eyes, the grins on my face. Happiness that life births is a phenomenal sacrament that traces only few lives, yet I was graced. I was graced to feel that which I haven't felt in more than a year, and here I am. Enjoying.

Rolling hills of happiness, I adore you.

Ventuno

I'm begging for you to come back.
Days were brighter
Nights were longer
The breeze was sweeter
Nostalgia was stronger
Love was all enveloping:
Or was that you?

I'm begging for you to come back.
Nothing in this world is the same
Nothing around me matters as much
Everything is departing
Everything is distant
Everyone is bland:
Or is that just me?

I'm begging for you to come back.
I want colorful sparks known as moments
I want bountiful beauty to fill my soul
Consummation calls!
Information inquires!
Memories of you flit:
Creativity, will you stay?

Changes

Usually, reclusion is a gift that I'll never negate, but lately, reclusion has transformed into loneliness. I don't smile as bright as I used to, and certainly it's a cause of the massive change looming over our heads. I can't indulge in relationships that might have worked out, only because Time tells me not to. I can't engage on levels that I accustom myself to doing, and it's killing me. The luster is fading, and I don't know what to do. I'm being shadowed by fear, and all I feel is an infernal winter that puts to sleep anything that hasn't endured previous winters. Usually, change is greeted with open arms, but now it's stifling me with its bombarding lack of cordiality, and I can't resurface from what I see...

Nostalgia.

Sometimes the rustle of the leaves that scurry by is the only thing that tells me that I'm still alive. The subtle scrapes against the concrete remind me that I still can communicate without saying a word, without a single whisper. Although I cannot wish for a time like then to reoccur, I miss the complexity of my existence - the complexity you used to illuminate - and I miss the philosophical mazes we lost ourselves in for hours.  


I appreciate your beautiful absence - no longer is the air thick with guilt and pain - yet, on days like these, our synergy would have lit up the city. On days like these, your love would have done me good.

Even When

Melancholy has a way of visiting unexpectedly, and I hate it. I wish she'd give me more notice, so I wouldn't burst into tears every time I think of your voice. You cause me more grief than you should, you know. I just thought to let you know, especially since you're not quite sure how we fit anymore. Christ, as if I knew how we're supposed to act, as civility has gone out the wayside. My dear, I can't imagine ever harming you intentionally, even at this point in time, so must these torments be as often as they are? Or are you just exhausting us for a reason? I'm hoping for the later, but sometimes I feel like I don't know you. Sometimes, when I'm laying my head down to breathe in the late night, I don't know what you feel for me, or if you did at all! I'm sure at one point you did, but now you've hurt me, and I'm lost.

Darling, I'm lost, but please don't go looking for me, even if love has compelled you.

Simply Because I Can

Simply because I can love you
Doesn't mean I should --
When were you ever right for me?
This love is juvenile, unfortunately.
Nothing was to bloom from a moment.
But, must I reconcile with the reality
Of your nature, of my nature and
Of everything consumed by reality?
I cannot imagine myself deliberately
Negating that you lacked the maturity to love;
I refuse to believe the excuse everyone gifts you:
Excuses were never viable to begin with.
I cannot imagine myself not taking you seriously,
Yet, at this rate: I'll have to.

Fear

Sometimes, people cannot reconcile with themselves well enough to see the truth. I, for one, cannot bear to lie to myself after committing that crime once. There is no use in being dishonest with the one person I will always be with -- myself. Yet, how can I transcend what I have learned to those who may need it, or who especially need it? How can I tell if they've blanketed themselves well enough to keep the chill of the bitter truth out, while caressing a heartache that is festering? To what help is this mute discourse?
Oh, God, so help me if he's hurt. Allow her capricious satisfaction be enough to keep him happy. Allow her dirty whims be enough for him to wake up with an unprecedented excitement to see the morrow. But, if his love is honest and pure, then please make hers his equal. Allow them to combine under veracity, and not under the confines of stealth, lies, and manipulative tactics.
Yet, if he has the lining of doubt, get him out of there. Save him from the tumultuous life he could lead if he stays. Save him! so as to let him learn the moral.

Paradoxes

I hate admitting to myself every night, like some sort of cynic's lullaby, that I screwed up. I wish you the best, but my God, I hate having to admit defeat. This is what emotional suicide feels like, I'm pretty sure. I love you, so I left you, but I still love you. See the problem in that? I'm feeling it.

I Don't Need My Words to Rhyme

I don't need my words to rhyme
when i have the rhythm of your love

I don't need to be masked by the shell of my clothes
now that your warmth has painted me caramel

I don't need the rough beats on the radio
when the melody of your voice is chorally divine

I don't need the paint strokes of the Picasso's in the gallery
when the strokes of your lips against mine transcend longer...further

I don't need the romantic fields of England
when your chest depicts the vastness of the Mediterranean

I don't need laws, governments, or religion
now that your love is the unspoken promise of Heaven

Questions.

How is it that things got this way? Where I no longer can breathe without having to worry about those around me? I heard the world's sadness in your voice when I admitted to you what kind of person I was, even though it was never your fault. But I wasn't programmed this way, was I? I surely couldn't have been born to birth and nurture the pains of those around me. Certainly I am more than just a cynic waiting for karma to kick in. There has to be more to life than just the constant suffering that I put myself through. There has to be more to life than this.

If mornings weren't so bright.

If mornings weren't so bright;
If the moon weren't so beautiful;
If the youth of our lives would transcend
I'd be more compelled to you.
These harsh treatises I write in my heart
Are because I had not any idea.
I was blinded, and not by your love.
Indecision blocked from me that which I want most.
My own stupid indecision is now killing me.
Everyday, I see you, your smile, your eyes,
And I just remember.
I remember a time when loving you was simple, easy.
But all I have left now are shards.
Shards that I can't decipher.
Shards created by self-loathing.
Self-loathing birthed from regret.

Well.

Who's to say that I'll want to wake up if I fall asleep? This waking torture is growing to be unbearable. I have never tasted the bitter wine of regret, and now that I'm drowning in it, waiting for you to come save me, I can see why you wouldn't. But please, I'm begging you, do come and save me. Just this once. I'll repay you in the currency of love, and revenge and anything else you want. I'd stop time, if that's what you'd want. Dammit! Can't you see? I'm out of my mind with all the honesty I'm trying to exude; these aren't mere tantrums! Nor am I being dishonest. Nor have I been. Please listen to me when I say I love you. Please hear my pleas. Please don't let my flails of distress appear to be waves from afar.

Realization.

No one ever told me that making my own decisions would be so painful, or that love was treasonous. I was misinformed when they told me that people were good, and that life was easy. When you told me that your arms were my safe haven, I should’ve been more aware of the venom of personal interests. When I kissed you, I should have been a bit more honest - I was not looking for love - but I wasn’t. When I said I was yours, I should have also mentioned the bit of me that belongs to a force insurmountable.


But this here is the truth: I love you. Had it not been for you, I never would’ve realized this much about myself. I don’t accredit everything to you, but you’ve helped me propel myself - yet at the cost of losing you. At the cost of forfeiting you, I forfeited a part of me that will forever remain in the uncertainty of the wind. By losing you, I’m not sure what all I have gained, besides the dismal recognition of your absence.

I've finally learned to be more open. I've finally learned to just say what's on my mind, with preoccupation of the world around me. Perhaps I just feel that compelled to you; Perhaps it was my lack of full awareness. I don't care what it is. I just needed to say it. I just needed you to know. I just needed to feel like I knew, for once, what the hell I was doing, and not blaming it on fate.

Deplorable Conditions

I want to write poetry,
I want to write you a song.
I want to sleep comfortable
I want to be happy
I want to know that everything will be great
I want to breathe without worries


I just want you back, alright?

Roses

The roses you gifted me are still beautiful, it's really a wonder. They're a slightly deeper hue of red, but they're not withered, nor wilted in the least sense. The largest one of the dozen remains as red as my lips, rather red if you ask me. Although, these beauties of nature remains, our relationship does not, and I regret ever making that decision. Yet, laissez-faire is the way I must go. I won't beg, nor plead. I want you back, but I shall not impose upon you my wishes.
I genuinely cared about you, but what more can I do?

Catharsis

Don't think I'm beginning to torment you, because that is not my intention. I only wish you the best, and perhaps you don't care about what I'm about to say, but you need to know this. You need to know that I love you for the wrong reasons, and I want to love you for the right ones; I didn't realize it until I fell asleep, and woke up crying this morning.
I love you because of what you do for me, and I want to love you for the way you make me feel. I know the distinction is hardly noticeable, but follow me on my logic, if you wish. I realized that I'm lonely and alone, even with a life like mine that has granted me a plethora of amazing friends, and you. Even though I'm surrounded by people that care about me a lot, I still felt, and continue to feel dissatisfied with everything that I do. I am not excited by that which used to bring me excitement, nor am I capable of caring and loving as much as I used to, and it's a problem within me that only I can fix. I cannot oblige you to follow me into the depths of uncertainty with me, when the consequences are exactly that- uncertain. I love your company, I adore who you are, but you were only a service to me, and unfortunately I only realized it today; I did not intend for you to be that, and I don't want you to be that, especially if I want you back as much as I do.
I want to be in love once I am who I am supposed to be, and not in the state I am now. It's not fair to you, and no matter how much I want you back, you shouldn't come back to me until I am certain of myself.

 I swear on everything that I do love you, and I really want you back.

Honestly.

I shouldn't be jealous, but I am.
I shouldn't care, but I do.
I should really hate you beyond relief.
I should know what's good for me.

You're acting strange, and I do hate you.
He's being everything I need, and I love him.