I Like Being Your Home

I liked being your safe haven

When I was sleepy

And you were out

Afraid to go home again

Because you’d said you were somewhere you weren’t

You called me and asked if you could come over

I wasn’t used to that

I wasn’t used to people

I wasn’t used to friends

I wasn’t used to you

And it was hard for me to ask

For a favor so late at night

But I did

For you

And maybe for me too

And you came to the door

And you greeted my mother

Who always viewed you as a child worth protecting

A young soul she might start over with

After hurting mine so severely

Someone she might keep

If she fixed her mistakes

And we went to my room

And I brought out some sweats

That you were able to wear

And an old soccer t-shirt

For you to sleep in

And I told you to swish out your mouth

With my favorite toothpaste

Because it was proper bedtime etiquette

And your breath was unsavory

We crawled into bed

And you told me stories

About a life I’d never know

Because I was hard to get to know

And the only one who ever asked for me

Was you

And I told you

Things I hadn’t told anyone

Some things I hadn’t told myself yet

Not even in the mirror

Pretending to be someone else

And you told me to stop talking

Because you were falling asleep

But I didn’t want to sleep

Because I’d wake up and you’d leave again

But I let you drift off

As you held onto my arm

And I kissed your forehead

When you started to drift

And I’d stay in the moment

I’d sink into to it slow and easy

And I’d think about how much

I like being your home

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You are beautiful

You are beautiful

I thought you weren’t once
I saw something else completely
But I think I might have just been hurt
Because you stand there
Without me
Absolutely beautiful
Or maybe you too never saw it before
And I could never convince you
So when I saw you
I only saw tears, pain, and heartache
When really you’ve never been
Anything but
Beautiful
And I’m glad we can both
Now see it that way

To You: A Prayer

To You: A Prayer

When I was little
My daddy taught me how to pray
One way
And I never forgot
I always started and ended
With the same hopeful arch
I began
Father God, thank you for:
And I’d list all the people I needed to love
And in a whisper
Because daddy was listening
I added the names of the people I wanted to
And after all these years
Not much has changed
Ever since I met you
I’ve whispered your name
And I still visualize angels camped above me
In fancy tents as
I hope your heart is happy
I pray your smiles are real
And that your life is filled with the love and laughter
Photographs often lie about
Please bless them with all that they need
And help them find themselves where they are meant to be
It sounds like a prayer still
Because it is.
In Jesus’s name
Amen

To You and Your Bloodless Heart

I wish your heart bled for me.
I wish it just bled blood
But it’s as dry as desert air
I know
I grew up there
It’s the kind of dry your skin bakes under
Even mine
With my brown skin turned auburn
And with lips that crack and bleed
More than your heart does
And possibly ever has

I wish you wished me dead
I wish my life made your skin boil
I’ve wished myself dead a time or two
Hoping that you’d cry
That your guilt would eat through you
Then you’d see me differently
I hear grief brings out buried feelings
I wonder if you’ve buried me alive
Maybe I’m dead already
Or possibly just still screaming

I wish you thought of me
I wish I didn’t wish that
I think of you occasionally
Whenever I pass by a feeling
And take hold of it
Letting it drag me a different way
I rather feel something than nothing
But all my feelings
Lead a pathway to you

I wish that path were rougher
I wish being dragged there
Made me bleed like your heart does not
Maybe I’d stop wishing
With a heart too pained to wish for more
I’d be forced into acceptance
A place as barren as my desert home
But I’d reside there
Stroking the auburn skin I used to hate
Lovingly without you
And your bloodless heart

Not Quite Forgotten

Not Quite Forgotten

I fall in love just a lil o lil bit every day with someone new
And every day I fall in love
I forget someone too

I forget you quite often
Your face disappears
Just like you wanted it to
I guess
Just like you said it should
Small things make me remember
Gestures
Face twitches
Stupid laughs
Remind me again
Of what I almost forgot
I smile
At a sweet memory
Untainted
Because I sucked the poison out
The poison made from
Red eyed tears
That you were using
To make me forget
But they remain sweet
Like the sugar cubes
I argued didn’t belong in tea
And that you dumped in yours
Like you didn’t believe in clogged arteries
And I remain fond of them
And you
Though I forget about you
Often
And your face is marked
In the attic of my mind
With cobwebs
It’s still a picture
I find myself fond of
When I remember
That it’s there
And my picture may not
Look as sweet to you
But it did once
And that’s the you
I like to remember

To You: Sincerely

To You: Sincerely

It wasn’t love
that drew me towards you
But uncertainty
I didn’t see everything I was
But instead
Saw things that I could be
It seems the same people
Are always on my mind
And you are one of three
I don’t understand
How rejection
Could be so attractive to me
I was fascinated by you
Because your world
Seemed so
Easy
You seemed to
Ebb and flow
With the current
Of the simplest simplicity
I could see the waves
Were tainted
Streaked with colors
Of anxiety
But I pulled your finger nails
Gently from your teeth
And kissed them lightly
At least I did in my imagination
I’m not sure
I did really
It seemed
A scary thought
To pull into my
Reality
It sounded
Too concrete
A little unfair
Of me
To present feelings
Of importance
When I couldn’t
commit fully
My thoughts were running
ramped elsewhere
But you pulled them down
right there next to me
I was too entranced by you
To be astounded
Of your interest
in me
I didn’t know you long
But you changed
My thoughts
Completely
I found that I
Became more present
When I focused
On blatant honesty
I was a little lighter
With you
Than I ever thought
I could be
There was no hushed, dark
Sense of revealed secrets
Just pristine
Vulnerability
I may have ran
Too fast toward you
Possibly a bit too
Eagerly
I tend to chase
Beautiful things
Beautiful feelings
Especially
You opened up
my heart
And left a spongy
Piece of you
Inside of me
My intentions
weren’t malicious
Though possibly
Presented poorly
I would love
To say things to you
But I won’t
Because you seem
So happy
And I hope you
Accept my best wishes
Because to you
They’ll always
Be sent
Most sincerely

To You: With the Eyes

I admit, no one has ever looked at me quite like that. I’m not sure I have ever hated a look more.

It’s a look that says: Hey, I’m obligated to make conversation, but you know what? I’d rather be anywhere else. No, really. Pick a place. Especially, with your hot friend… Do you think if I stop trying to be friends with you she’ll stop wanting to screw me?

It’s so weird! I hear people talking about you and I hear, “Have you seen his eyes? He has gorgeous eyes.” And I hate your eyes. But mostly I hate how they look at me.

You know that way you speak to me? Do you speak to everyone that way? I admit, I’ve never quite paid attention when you speak to others. Just me, really. I suppose you could call that self-absorbed… It’s almost like you’re speaking to a child. A very weird child, whose parent you’re getting involved with. You speak to me as if I’m an obstacle. In this weirdly condescending manner and I don’t quite understand it.

It dawned on me recently that for conversation to work, all parties have to be interested in each other’s company. But here we are. You think I’m hard to speak to and I think the same about you. I think you’re boring, and maybe you think the same, about me? It wouldn’t surprise me.

I get it though. We don’t have much in common and I think I have so much animosity towards you because you don’t care if we do. Not really. And I hate that I can be even the slightest bit affected by whether someone else believes me worth conversation, but somehow I am. I care less than I would normally, but still, I care.

I’m annoyed by this. Which makes me annoyed by you. I have no real reason to dislike you other than, you seem bent on disliking me. So I just dislike you on principle. And there it is.

I almost want to call it jealousy, but it’s more like that word that means “pushed away, forgotten, left out”: the word I can’t remember.

And I guess that’s that. I just don’t like you all that much. Or your stupid eyes. Eh.

That’d Be Good

I need to write about you

I need to tell you things

About how much I miss you

And maybe even about my day.

You usually listen.

Or maybe you just pretend?

I liked the thought that you

liked the sound of my voice

speaking to you

regardless of the content.

I used to write really well.

It always sounded nice.

Sweet. Silky. Saturated?

But those were words that

meant nothing.

And now they do.

And I can’t even make them rhyme.

They just don’t flow through me.

They don’t resemble anything even slightly

poetic.

Because I don’t feel poetic.

I just feel…

Left.

Lonely.

But not lonely. Just alone?

I feel…

I feel…

I feel…

Like I miss you.

And I’m not sure what it is that I miss.

I find my face contorting in ways that yours does

And it makes me smile.

For a second.

And then it makes me sad.

Because I just can’t see you do it.

Because right now it’s just a memory.

One I hold really close to me

but also somewhat far away

So it hurts less.

Because I realize that if I felt the pain

If I let myself actually feel it

It might actually hurt me.

Like nothing ever has before.

Because no one has ever quite mattered to me.

Like you do. How you do.

I might just be delusional.

Lost in the feeling of loss.

Anchored by pain, possibly imagined.

Maybe I like it.

Maybe it’s my own type of sanity.

And I’m trying so hard!

I like to say…

But I’m not sure I really am…

Not really.

I like sinking in the thought of you.

Letting myself drift on the surface of feeling.

Within the small possibility that you love me.

In whatever way fits you.

And you care somewhat.

And what I want isn’t just in my mind.

But actually possible.

Just possible.

That’d be good.