The Daily

Small fragments of myself

Here and there

Given freely without thought

I don’t mind being generous

With the scraps

After all

I’ve many pieces

Knit together into

Multiple layers

Shielding me

Protecting who I am

From exposure

Keeping those

Who would try to come close

At a respectably safe

Distance

Truth be told

The loneliness

Can be a bit

Chilly

Yet,

I’ve no complaints

The shell I’ve buried myself

Deep within

Keeps me warm enough.

Untrue/True

if you believe the stories
i am the breaker of hearts
the stealer of souls
the crusher of the dreams
carefully crafted in their deluded minds

i am the cruel
cold
indifferent
heartless
lilith
draining all livelihood
and joy
leaving a trail of
emotionally annihilated husks
in my wake

if they ever took a minute
to examine their reflection
perhaps they would see the truth of things

but i suppose
one cannot
look into a mirror
when they spend their time
sitting in the dark

i am not the one
to illuminate their surroundings

my light is my own

Speculating Cost

i met someone
with a quiet intensity
so very
excellent at small talk
with dry
hidden humor
much loved
by the neighborhood locals

no fault
could seemingly be found

so
much like a discriminating buyer
at a curio shop
i have been inspecting
dissecting
in the hopes of
protecting
any investment
i decide to put forth

i do not like
being this way
but i have
been subject to
so many instances of
Buyer’s Remorse

my heart’s wallet
cannot afford
another loss.

Solitude

when the damage has been done
and the tears
simply stop
words of remorse
fall flat
scattered atop the debris
of the aftermath
always sorry
always making promises
with no ability
to follow through

forgiveness
loses all meaning

i find
being alone
saves me the time
the energy
the wrenching
anxiety ridden
emotional
and mental upheavals
of having to absolve
or be absolved

it is suitable

Splinters

How do we miss
and continue to love
the ones who have hurt us
irrevocably

is it the moments
though brief
full of promises
promises

never kept
always broken

(breadcrumbs for
emaciated birds)

shards of
good intentions
scattered
slicing
through stubborn
normally thick
skin
with ease

(tis but a flesh wound…)

like tiny splinters
hidden deep under fingernails

there throbs
a constant pain
of remembering
what was
what could have been
what will never be

stir-crazy

my fingers twitch
an itching under the tips
a nervous searching
for the smooth feel
of the skin
across your cheekbone

they tap
impatient and out of sync
a restless dance of
digits
unable to sit
still

my mouth
a continuous
phantom tingle
tickling
my lips
so i keep them
pressed tight
to dismiss
them missing you
because
they are not kissing you

the memory
of that
the faint brush
tender touch
of lips
lingering soft
but urgent
against yours
sharply inhaling
the exhale
of
your breath

wistful
the days
slowly yawn on
while
i yearn
for that
blessed moment
when
we were one