I feel this sense of loss but more so vitality.
Love, a concept so simple yet devastating eludes me at every turn.
I’m so young
but more so than anything, this sense of overwhelming loneliness clouds all inept decision.
I crave touch, to feel.
to be touched sounds so lovely, but so terrifying.
even after being alive for so long it seems, i’m not yet ready to face the realities of another
another human being
male or female
but my heart
the echoing trembles of a muscle long forgotten
a drought has spread nimble padded fingers across
the barons of whispered thumps
a simple brush of lips across a parched soul would be lovely, no?
she cuddles me
in silent, chilled
hair raises slightly on the back
of a naked neck
Sweet kisses just a breathe away,
my lips starved
She’s so close yet so far
Loneliness, a ghost of my former self
shelters me protects me
excludes, my, happiness
fingers itching to feel
scorching skin, rough textures of
another, but is only
with her, Loneliness
Companionship, he’s long
Caring for someone, being in a relationship with someone is never an easy task.
Finding someone on equal standing as yourself, willing to submerge their singulars to plurals and answering “Yes, table for two” rather than a humbling shake of the head to the host is hard to come by.
But the brilliance, the easy holdings and tidings of a friend waiting in the wings is a commodity that none too much can call their own.
the beauty of slowly falling for someone you’ve known for so long, the simplistic but small increments you make in their presence-
head meeting shoulders
fingers carding through oily strands
lips greeting foreheads,
and another set of unyielding lips
the comfort found in the warmth within their mere shadow interlocking around your own
those are, well easy.
but when jealousy is prodded awake, dragged towards the surface
slapped across innocence’s blossomed cheeks
we quickly withdraw
excuses come to light
ugly insecurities cloud better judgement
and sorrow becomes your prized company
love may be a long while from now, but
give yourself the chance to learn
don’t let go of that precious hand linked along your own
regret will be
the least of your worries then
From behind, a stretched figment traces patterns into the flattened strains of my lower stomach, a body inching to fit the missing gaps of my back and legs; aligning perfectly alongside me.
Shivers racking her physicality, her softened touch morphed into hardened lunges as I was pulled back, flush against her fluttering heart beats.
Burying the warmed tip of her nose into the nudity of my neck, her breathing slowed as she allowed her subconsciousness to surface and lull her away from reality.
(Will I ever find someone content enough to sleep alongside me?)
With every intake of air, she strength-ed her hold around me, interlocking our legs and using both arms to glue ‘my’ to ‘her’.
Fire, scorching heat from every point we were bonded, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so content to be so close, so near someone.
My heart rate increased to fever pitch heights as we laid together, hour after hour dancing about my conscious state.
(Will I ever find someone whose heart races alongside my own?)
The first kiss, as I used some sort of feeble mental strength and stepped forward to take what I deemed as mine, stole every increment of air stored into the nooks and crannies of my ransacked lungs.
Closing her bedroom door as I made my way to leave, I slid down it’s cold front.
Kissing her made me forget what breathing even was.
(Will I ever find someone who would be willing to fall in love alongside me?)
(Fall in love with me, maybe?)
Loneliness is a feeling that I’ve grown too accustomed too.
Since I never wear pants, I always forget to put them on at the right time.
Like when a UPS guy comes to deliver my mom’s package.
That was an awkward 10 minutes, well for him.
BECAUSE NOT A SINGLE FUCK WAS GIVEN TODAY.
I don’t have much of a family, seeing as how most of them (majority really) can’t stand my presence and prefer to not notice my existence and daddy ran away to be with various girlfriends living it up in Africa.
All I would have left is my mother and she’s away for the day spending it with her family and boyfriend.
I’m not bothered much by it, you get used to the emptiness of a home after a while.
However, if you complain about what you’ve gotten for a Christmas gift, or that you’re single, or that you didn’t get enough, then FUCKING RE-EVALUATE YOUR LIFE.
There are people out there way worse off than me, and definitely worse off than yourself.
So you didn’t get what you’d like, screw it.
Save up your own money and actually go out and buy it for your damn self.
So what if you’re single, you have friends and family; get over yourself, today especially it’s not that important.
AND IF YOU SERIOUSLY COMPLAIN THAT YOU DIDN’T GET ENOUGH, YOU BETTER THANK THE LAWD I DON’T KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE AND CAN’T GET TO YOU.
Appreciate what you have.
The holidays aren’t about receiving
asshole, it’s about spending time with loved ones gathered around submerged in blissful unawarence of the cruel foreboding world outside your door, even if only for a day.
I’m in an empty home alone for my holiday, and yet I’m still surprisingly content.
Think about the people in circumstances that probably rival your own, and realize how much happier you’d be if you let go of the petty stuff okay.
and don’t take too much for granted.
it doesn’t even feel like christmas is tomorrow, and the fact that my birthday is around the corner doesn’t even spark the slightest of smiles about my down turned face.
i’m going to sleep and hopefully I won’t wake up, not for a long while and when I do I’ll be 35 living alone, writing endlessly.
I just want to know the ending of the story, and if it’s worth even being written.
we always plan to go but every single fucking time, IT’S HER FUCKING FAULT.
SO ANGRY, HOLY FUCK.
Tundrents and swirls of used to be’s and hollowed goodbyes.
Swirls of lips not locked, faded pictures and bones tired and strung too dry.
Eyes not adjusted, too bright screens and letters thought out too perfectly, snug in the company of each other’s misguidance.
Loneliness, her black hues dancing along grey lines suffocate my existence.
Skin smoothed, but cold from touch not lingered, touch not registered.
’i want to be loved’ ghosting across chapped lips, muscles about the forgotten mouth pulled too thin, too soft to be heard but pairs of ears and glazed eyes not fond of hearing, not fond of seeing.
Insecurity’s courtship with Loneliness lasts through out a decade, coming close to the end of another; an unfortunate 18 year marriage with it’s ups and downs, Confidence surging Insecurity towards infidelity but coming close to second and last.
Muscles scrunched in uncomfortable tides within a worn out back, Stress taking leisure, seating herself atop the mounds, her high chair placed about my own debt of misfortune.
Eyelashes briefly kissing salty trails treading down plumped cheeks, eyes downcast and cold, their growing child Memories leaving her darkened giggles between ‘your not good enough’s and ‘you’ll never be loved’s.
Thoughts colliding, pessimistic hues taking over.