There are days I remember
because I want to forget
how much I wanted
something so simple.
Now I don't know
how long I would have lasted
if I'd gotten
what I wanted.
There must be a point
where you've loved so long
you kind of get stuck in it-
a start date, with no sides, no bottom
just waking up and going on with it.
I was there once
but I don't remember
when I got there.
I just remember
vaulted ceilings
and purple velvet
and realize those were months apart.
My aunt and uncle have loved each other
since grade school,
and I wonder
if we could have had that
if I had been
a better beggar.
I put away the expensive purse
and try to leave
the feeling of being a trophy wife
with it.
I was something to brag about-
"Scholarship" this,
"Highest award a girl could get" that
always someone's show pony.
I was so busy
gilding myself
with all those selling points
That when they flaked off
I didn't know
what I was made of.
A pretty vessel
full of air.
And when I shook,
I heard a rattling.
After six weeks or so,
I felt a tingling
that grew and grew
zapping me suddenly
and frequently.
One day I felt it,
looked down,
and found myself glowing.
I was a vessel of light,
not air.
I wasn't a trophy.
I was a light bulb.
Blue. Sea Green. Slate Grey. by whoviannut, literature
Literature
Blue. Sea Green. Slate Grey.
Basically, I find myself
attracted to you
(but not you, really)
and not you
and things like you-
Blue. Sea Green. Slate Grey.
and things nothing like you-
Blond. Red-haired. Jet Black.
It's really more
of a phenomenon
of my life
than yours,
Because you wouldn't
be keyed into my psyche
unless
It's why I always run away.
Blue. Sea Green. Slate Grey.
I used to want
any sort of excuse
to talk to you
But I've got enough imaginary friends
for now
I keep telling myself
I don't need you,
and I don't,
but I used to.
And I used to want to kill you
to make up for what you did
But you're not worth the jail time
So I'll just stay here
I waited for the tomorrow
that never came, after all
What's another night
When I've seen the true sunrise?
It's exactly like we got married-
Her things became my things
Bliss. Fights. Two people, one life.
And it's exactly like we got divorced.
One of us off somewhere
taking fabulous vacation pictures,
the other seeing someone
but thinking of you on the train
between bits of my 9-to-5 life.
And I got stuck with the kids.
The new girl has her issues.
I may never hear another
"I love you"
that isn't part of
"I love you, man!"
But I think
the sentiment
"I miss having you in my life"
is better than
"I love you"
in any language.
It's not the first time today.
Is it because your brain is screaming,
trying to tell you what is does when you're scared.
It's not real, it's not real.
You can see it in your mind, yes,
and you can feel your heart throbbing
and feel him on your virgin lips-
Still virgin
because it's not real.
When most people talk
to made-up, imaginary people,
they're put away.
You're just categorized as weird
in the DSM.
The word for it, I found out,
is Schediaphilia.
A psychologically irregular paraphilia
alongside such acts as
touching children
flashing strangers
and invading a woman's privacy.
But I'm not hurting anyone
(except maybe myself).
..
I sing my songs to the moon
'Cuz you're not here for them
I let the sun scorch my skin
You can't do it yet.
I tie my heart with a bow
'Cuz its yours, you know
And I wait, though you'll never be mine
Still I wait, knowing you won't be mine
The ink smells like pears
When I write to you
Candlelight burns my eyes
When I cry over you
And I think of the things
We'll never do
My heart aches wishing you were mine
And it breaks saying you aren't mine
While some of us drowned
when the floodgates were opened
a sleeping beast awoke.
Its snores and purrs
had been heard for years
but seen as harmless noise.
So when it woke up
and eviscerated the nearest prey
Everyone was surprised.
Patterns were discovered.
Burning, death, resurrection
And from the ashes of the dying beast
came two- predator and prey,
eyes locked
The prey now on the prowl
They said we were safe
if we were good
and didn't go out at night.
But I woke up one day
on the brink of exploding
and found myself howling
when the moon rose that night.
I wondered if I was dying
But I was told this was bound to happen
one of these da
"What are you doing?"
"Leaving, like I should have a while ago." She put on her sunglasses.
"That writer was right, huh?"
"Hm? Oh, yeah."
She leaned her head back into the seat and hung up.
He said "leaving is hard until you actually leave. Then it's the easiest damn thing in the world." I needed to leave. That's why I'm going home. They say home is where the heart is and that home is where you hang your hat. I think it can be both. See, there's 2 reasons I left: 1, so I could prove to y self that I could move without the Agency telling me, and 2, I needed to stop. I'd spent my whole life escaping with my team and the Agency. So, Disney
Let's say I'm A.
So A loves B, C, and sometimes D. But they all have their own letters to tend to (call them EFG) And H loves A, but dated poor little I, using and abusing. That made A cry, because she felt bad for I. Now, no one really knows if F is real or just an excuse, but A wants to give before someone cooks her goose.
Or, let's make it harder, and not rhyme. A loves B, and B loves C, who loves B back, so you would think (hope) it would end in a stunted three-ray. (The three-way that never was.) But A also likes this one called D, but D's disappointed A too many times. So A goes on. Now, funny thing for A, while she's on her quest for