Masochists

We must be masochists,
You and I.
We must get pleasure
From our pain.
The pain feels good,
At least it feels.
And that's what we're
All looking for.

Feeling.

My World Aches

And then you walked in, and I knew right away that you were not good.

I knew right from the moment I saw you that you were only going to hurt me.

You made me smile. But you made me cry more.

You made me laugh. But you made me yell more.

I wanted to help you. To fix you.

You let me… But only for a time. And just when you were getting better… your demons came back with a vengeance. My heart was only there for you to break. Only there for your heart to use as a crutch.

What else was I for?

My heart was your protection from the rest of the world.

Your heart was pain and ache for my world.

Breaking. Shattering. Loving. Hating.

Destined to Fall

I was angry at you. I slammed the door too hard. The bottle of rum fell from the top of the fridge. I reached to try and save it… like I felt that I had done so many times in the past few weeks…

                              reaching to save it.

To save that bottle of shitty rum. But I just couldn't get a solid hold. It slipped right through my fingers. Shattering to a hundred pieces. Leaving me, on my knees on the kitchen floor, with half of a broken bottle in my hands. A bottle that didn't want to be saved… a bottle that was destined to shatter, leaving me with a mess of sharp, painful pieces to clean up. Pieces that had sliced my hand, bloody, but that seemed so insignificant to the rest of the mess surrounding me.

On my knees, tears streaming down my face, unable to breathe. You ran to me, wrapped your arms around me and said, "What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

But you knew. You knew why I was crying. That bottle had sat perched on top of the wobbly fridge for months now… I saw it wobble, I knew this was coming, I had ignored it. But it was destined to fall, to shatter, to leave me crouched and crying over the mess it left.

The Close Call

Music. Bass. Lights. Twirling. I was in my favorite flowy shirt. It was beautiful.

I felt like I was in a dream. Like I was not in my body.

The room was crowded, hot, sweaty, happy.

I saw you early in the evening. Catching my eye with your flawless face.

It all was perfect. Your big smile with perfect teeth.

Frosty blue eyes that twinkled. A permanent sparkly twinkle.

Blonde long hair, pulled in a perfectly messy bun.

Chisled chin. And chest, that showed through your shirt.

You were a sight to behold.

Visual poetry.

After a while, you were in front of me, dancing. Suddenly you turned to me, tapped me on the shoulder. I leaned in to hear your velvety voice in my ear…

"I'm about to twirl you!"

Before I knew what happened, you had my hand and twirled me with ease. My hair, and my heart, spinning, weightless in the carefree motion. Then you pulled me to you with strength and confidence. Giving me that twinkly-eyed smile that made me weak in the knees. I started laughing uncontrollably. Happier than I had been in a long time.

In that one simple moment.

Such an effortless moment.

It was a close call, you.

I almost fell in love with you.

Even still, sometimes I wonder if I should have let myself.

Every Move We Never Made

It was a warm night with a cool breeze. My favorite.

I met you at that bar that I had frequented so many times in the past year.

I was in my favorite 501s and my "Neil Young" hat.
I remember how you kept looking at me... Round, blue eyes staring deep into mine. Mouth in a slight smile. Your buck teeth showing out from under your old fashioned western mustache.

There was something in the way you looked at me that made me feel so... light.

I said something silly, as I usually do. A breeze came through and swept my tangled, messy hair across my face. I turned to the breeze, closed my eyes, inhaled, exhaled, smiled.

A little scoff escapes your mouth. I turn to see you, with that slight smile on your face. I smile back, questioningly... Wondering what your scoff was about.

"What?" I say. 

"You're a goddess." 

I blush and turn my face back to the breeze.

I think I knew then that this was going nowhere.
But I still enjoyed every move we never made in no direction.

In The Soft Light

There's a ring on my windowsill.

A ring from that cup of hot chocolate we shared in my bed.
Your features illuminated by the soft, glowing string light.
How romantic everything seems under those string lights.

How the twinkle in your eyes seemed so sincere in the soft light.

How my heart seemed to beat so contentedly in the soft light.

How your promises seemed so genuine in the soft light.

That soft light, making the fact that you sat the mug down without a coaster seem like no big deal.

But then the morning broke and the glow from the lights was gone. And your promises were revealed in the day light for what they really were...
Fickle.
And that ring in my windowsill lingers. Like all of the promises you made but never kept.

It was all so much prettier in the soft light.

Soul Smile

I'm watching him work.

Whistling. Humming. Using his strong hands.
I feel so at peace.

His floppy hair falls around his concerned brow. His soft lips and crooked teeth circle around a cigarette as the sun gleams off his twinkly eyes, illuminating their waves of frosty blue, with just a bit of green.

Watching the sun light up the little brown freckles on his nose brings a smile to my face.

He's concentrating, building, creating.

I can see his gears turning.

And when he glimpses over at me, only to see that I'm already looking at him,

he smiles.

And my soul smiles with him.