dyingcrimsonroses

Do you know what it feels like? To feel something, but... be unable to express what it is; to be silent; to fight it alone. I know how much it hurts, but I don't know how to show it. Poetry used to be my refuge, a place where I could be alone - express all my emotions, without being judged. I'm losing it. I can't connect to poetry. Everything sounds so stupid... Everything I write sounds stupid. I have to erase all my feelings, because they don't sound right. The words aren't real. They don't show what I feel And maybe this will be the last. Maybe I'm gone: lost of all emotions. I'm truly alone... I used to have poetry. Now I have not

i stayed home monday because i wanted to cry and write broken poetry of how my ribs are no fortress composed of marrow but shards of memories cross-stitched to spine. i decided sometime by mid-morning all i wanted was for you to encircle me and whisper gentle words across my shoulder that would dip around my lower-back and find home in my chest. i envisioned cardiac surgeons tangling their hands in my thoracic cavity and struggling to find my heart, but only coming back to an empty waiting room with scattered slips of paper detailing a midnight heist. as i mouthed words scratched into a bathroom stall, i hoped each consonant would tumble f

You were the one Right from the start There isn't anyone That could keep you from my heart You make my tummy twist inside I will walk down the entire path of destruction with you And I'll enjoy the ride Just because I walked it with you I want to stay with you, right here Every single year And to get some good night's rest I'll fall asleep on your chest You can do no wrong Because I love everything about you And together we belong This love is so true

Knees bend, hands shake, Lips part, hearts break, Blood pumps, thoughts fly, Bodies melt, worries die, Heads swim, fingers touch, Tongues rub, clothes bunch. Butterflies, adrenaline, Testosterone and estrogen, We fit like a glove, so... Kiss me again, love?