I can’t live without,
your wisdom and lasting love.
Please don’t go just yet.

I feel so damn great,
that I haven’t touched my blade,
in over a month.

I guess that sooner
or later I have to see,
I’m not worth loving.

I joined you on,
that auburn porch,
and grasped your hand in mine.
You smiled slightly,
turned your head,
and looked into my eyes.
As brown met blue,
and a breeze flowed through,
I watched that smile fade.
You spoke of lost souls,
and of God above,
as I began to fray.
I begged you, “Please
don’t speak of that”,
as I dried my eyes. 
You took a breath,
and looked away saying,
"I’m not afraid to die."
As our breaths became unsteady,
I grasped your hand tighter,
knowing you gave up the fight.
Still, love, I thank you dearly.
Because of you I know,
to “Live by faith, not by sight.”

No matter how tightly,
the curtains are drawn,
a sliver of sunlight,
always peeks through.

And a stab of irony,
drives into my head,
because that bright white light,
is just like you.

Hanging by a thread,
losing all my sanity.
God, please don’t break me.

My bosses always ask me,
why I take my box cutter home with me.
I always give a smile,
look them in the eyes,
and tell them that people tend to steal mine,
if I leave it in the stockroom.
But in reality,
I keep it on me,
for the peace of mind,
in knowing that I can remove the razor from the plastic case,
rinse it off,
put it against the skin of my hip,
and slice away.

No matter how much I consume,
Nothing intoxicates me more,
than the taste of your name
on my tongue,
or the feel of your breath
on my lips.


13 Feb 14 at 10 pm

Asked by Anonymous

asker I just wanted you to know I love your poetry. Thank you :)

Thank me? Thank you! I’ve never had anyone tell me that they liked my writing before. You’re positively lovely.

My world is spinning,
and my body numb.
Reality is gone,
as I’m left in a fog,
blindly searching,
for what I don’t know.
As if you’d actually appear,
take my hand,
and erase my fear.
But even in,
this drunken state,
I know that you’re,
in someone else’s bed.
Sleeping soundly,
next to her,
as the music rages on here,
like the pounding in my head.
Wishing things were different,
and that you’d be loving me instead.