when they said his name, I didn’t think of the way his hand touched mine. for a second I forgot about the words I spit from my mouth when his tried to taste my tongue. no, I thought of when he spoke your name and asked what I saw in you. I remember that night you kept me safe when his hungry eyes saw me as nothing more than a mouse to chase. I may not remember that night, but I’ll never forget that in my darkest hours you were my light. I was the match and you were my flame. now you’re nothing but a burned out wick and I’m smoke in the wind. memories of us have began to fade but I’ll never forget how we burned together.

dear god, we could have set the world on fire.


beer reminds me of her

I taste beer off of strangers tongues, reminds me of when our lips met on your fathers deck. The smell always made me sick but how I wish I could have one more chance to run my hand around your neck. To hold you on a couch that’s just small enough for two, and how scared I was of falling in love but you made it easy to.

Oh how I wish there was still something between me and you

it was never real.. was it

The memory of you is a soft yellow hue, meaning somewhere in the pain and suffering you’ve brought comfort. Unfortunately, the yellow has been burning blue. Like the flame in my chest that has always been for you, too hot to touch but that’s something I knew. 

I knew you would go, I knew it too well. That’s something I learned long before I fell. Falling for you was like a soft landing view on the pillows of your bed when I held onto you. I desperately want to create more memories with you, but you’re gone.

You’re gone, you’re gone. 

Almost as though repeating it will drive the thought through my head. Yet I always set myself up with hope and am met with disappointment when I’m left with the realization that I’m always alone. I’ve always been alone. You’re something I’ve conjured up in hopes of being real..

When the only thing that’s real about this is how much you’ve made me feel.

bomb shelter girl

Lately, I’ve been choking on words I could never spit out. Daydreaming my way into thoughts of you that I tell myself I shouldn’t be thinking about. 

But what am I left to do with the part of my mind that keeps retreating to you. 

You’re like a bomb shelter placed close enough to shield me from the battlefield I call my life, that’s left holes in my soul like bullet wounds. 

I’ve slowly realized that though you may not pierce me with anything more than words, the poisoned butterflies you’ve left in the pit of my stomach have began to form holes.

Unlike the guns that aimed their bullets through my skin, I didn’t see this coming.

Surely sometimes I had felt sick, I’ve just been so accustomed to feeling sick that I never seek help for anything I can’t view in plain sight.

And you were never more than a bomb shelter. You could help keep me safe while I healed myself, you were just never qualified to look after the damage.

And when I left, it was fair game. I could return with more wounds, but I’d always leave with the same.

I left, and I left..
Yet I always return again.

she had lips of rose petals

She had spoken with silken words, and her tongue could spin thread better than any seamstress. With lips as delicate as rose petals, I watched them… wondering what roses taste like.

Though roses have thorns, and with thread comes needles. It was inevitable that eventually I would draw blood through her hands. It was unexpected that I would impale myself on such beauty, as to where I was afraid that my blood would taint the silk or wilt her roses.

But it was my hands that drew blood, she was never close enough to be near when it drips – you cannot ruin what lays not within your grips.

the girl with coffee-coloured hair

She hit me like waves hit the shore,
I may not have been ready
but now I am sure.

I would allow her sea of a heart
to fill my lungs without second guessing, to have her be the reason behind my
last breath would be a blessing. 

To lock my hands in her
soft coffee-coloured hair, to feel
as though there was nothing else there; 

Just her and I.. with bodies intertwined,
if I could hold onto her for one last night..
I would be more than fine.

3am thoughts of you

I wish I had the courage to ask you out on a date.

I sit here, nearly 3am and all I can think of is your warm smile and gentle eyes. Wanting to have your head against my chest, body wrapped in mine.

I know you’ll not agree as your life is too busy. Just once, I want to relieve you of the commotion you deal with daily.

It’s not possible, but if I could beat impossibility – it would be for you. 

You’re so deserving of a break in chaos, even if you may disagree. I see you differently. Perhaps it’s the glow of attraction that’s been sugarcoating your flaws.

Maybe it’s that I’ve finally seen past your tough exterior, to the gentle soul behind tough words and anger.

It’s a flaw of mine that I’ve always searched for the good in people. Yet this flaw has allowed me to experience such happiness, in the strangest forms.

You grant me happiness, even with the way you’re never here.. I appreciate your honesty.

And I want to return the favour.
I want to show you that someone cares, selflessly. 

And that person, is me.

eyes as deep as space

No star in the night sky could compare
to the lights that lit up in the
beautiful eyes upon her face.

I’ve gotten lost so often you’d think
they were as vast as space, in some ways..
they are.

For they carry the truth within her heart, the words she dare not say aloud.

They’ve become my home and cage,
all in one. A place I feel safe in,
yet one I can’t escape.

Finding my way back to you is like walking through the many corridors
of a maze, frustrating
and in some ways infuriating.

Though the challenge presented
in front of me is one I cannot pass on.
For I hope, at the end of it all ..
I will have you in my arms again.

Something I’ve grown fond of, and something I not dare leave behind.

ink filled memories

Have you
Become nothing but a muse
The reason my pen hits paper
In the midst of the night

I seem to write about old memories
I’ve grown fond of
As we’ve not created more

There’s a distance between us
While not unusual
This time it’s greater
You’ve ventured further this time

I can’t remember
when I last held you in mine
For it’s been too long
The scent of your hair
Has been washed away
I no longer feel your touch

Until I close my eyes
And write about your soft brown eyes
Or your sweet lips against mine
Only memories of what has been
Not what is
Reminiscing a past that is no longer

I’ve romanticized something
That never was
Never has
And never will be

But when this pen hits paper
You’re everything
I wish we could have been