The Lost One Longing

I was missing him, but as I looked at his picture I couldn’t quite remember who it really was that I was missing.

He was straying.

I saw his shoulders, broad and strong, but had little recollection of how they felt around me.

He was fading.

His molten stubble, between my thighs, glimpses of the last time flashed through my mind.

He was leaving.

With his hair pushed back and his molten, chocolate eyes; the thought of them could have burned a hole in my mind.

Within an instant, I started to relive it; a sweet slumber turned into an abrupt awakening.

He kissed me goodnight, to then be goodbye.

He, me, it was all starting to dissipate.

I couldn’t remember his smell, his kiss or even the feeling of his fingers wrapped in mine.

I had been longing for him so long, but I no longer knew who I was longing for.

He was gone.

A Maze Through the Haze

You might’ve been the best thing to ever happen to me, but you leaving was the worst.

I look for love in bottles, but nothing seems to work.

Down a 1/5 of vodka, and roll one on the way.

No matter what I do, you burn right through the haze.

Do another line, but in my head you stay.

You’re stuck inside my memory while I’m trapped inside this maze.

 

My Deepest Hope

I hope you’re doing well.

I hope that when you wake up each day, part of you becomes more alive.

I hope that your eyes look for the light, even in the dreariest skies.

I hope that you find yourself, even if you’re not mine.

I hope that someone can take off that mask that you use as a disguise.

I hope that you find what you’ve been looking for, and I hope you’re doing well.

Just know I would give you that happiness, even if I had to go through hell.

An Open Book, A Closed Heart

The hardcover has turned to paper back,
The words emerge from everything I lack.

 

The pages are tattered and torn,
With erased I love yous that were written once before.

 
The print is soft and faded,
Filled with people who are now in different places;
There is no one left to fill up the empty spaces.

 
I guess I’m just an open book with nothing to my name,
The beginning might have been different, but the end is always the same.

A Memoir of Naiveté

The look on her face devastates me.

Sadness, remorse, naiveté.

Oh, the visible pain in one look of her chestnut eyes.

A reoccurring course of events.

Extended yells, objects thrown, trails of tears falling.

Pleading, “he was my first love, naiveté.”

Blastoff, a flood of happiness, ending someone unknown.

With a soft, despondent tone, she revokes the past experiences.

Theatrically portraying endured events.

Rushing through the darkness, yearning for a way out.

Questioning her former self, outright naiveté.

She sighs, “I was dancing with the devil in disguise.”

An Awful Sadness

She had an awful sadness about her.

With eyes that had seen a thousand wars,

And a heart that couldn’t put up another fight.

 

It’s no wonder that her heart turned to stone.

She had given so many pieces of herself to others,

She was left with none to call her own.

A Bittersweet Farewell

We sat there with each other,

But it was different from before.

Something in his eyes had changed,

He stared down at the floor.

A flood of tears came through me,

It felt like the end of a war.

With nothing left to give,

Nothing left in store;

I knew that it was over,

He didn’t love me anymore.