I beg forgiveness

at the feet of my friends.

Hoping once I’m healed,

we can begin again.

The hatred lies within my bones.

I swear to my God, that I won’t let this go.

You single-handedly broke all two hundred and six.

I hope you got your sadistic fix.

You’re a monster of the deep,

and one that left me with no more tears to weep.

It’s impossible, I told you.

It’s illogical, I told you.

You’re unethical, aren’t you?

Put me down,

your dirty chess piece.

I no longer want to be

a pawn in your mastery.

It’s a curse of the ifs,

a curse of the ifs.

Take me back to the cliffs,

back to the cliffs.

I hear people call them ideations.

I call them compulsive desires.

Ironically, it’s the last thing I desire.

However, the Projector does.

All the times I’ve spent locking the bathroom door,

falling to my knees and asking God for more…

So here I sit,

in a place I deemed my peace.

Whispering my surrender

to the life I did not seek.

How is it that even the thickest of ropes burned so quickly?

As if we both struck a match on either end, and simply forgot.

You knew in your heart that we were drifting, and I don’t want you to tell yourself otherwise.

I knew in mine.

I knew it was almost time.

I’m looking for the real ones.

The ones who truly get it.

What it’s like to be the “bad kid”

even when you were considered “perfect.”

Hello to the living,

and hello to the beyond.

My love extends to you

if you choose to cheer me on.

Once my power grew more stable,

I played with domination.

The first of its kind;

didn’t even think I was able.

I watched as you pulled out the matches,

like you were some sort of God.

You struck that match

and I burned right into the ground.

I’m forever addicted to you.

Got no shame in my game,

I’ve only got eyes for you.

You bring me to my knees.

I can barely breathe.

This is inappropriate,

but we’re married,

so it’s holy, 

right?

Take me to the kitchen

and bend me over the counter tonight.

I deserve better and I am better.

I’m no hero to you.

That’s okay.

I’m a hero to myself,

in each and every way.

This phone hears every beat of my heart,

and I deliberately pause to pay attention…

to hear the percussion of love on the other end.

This dream granted you full visibility.

For once, we shared true transparency.

It was invigorating.

It was powerful.

I hear my own echo.

It’s haunting, and there’s a crew of spirits.

I hear a slow drip.

It’s an attempt at keeping the faucets of my ego from freezing.

I hear white noise.

It’s the only way I can stay sane.

I left the garden, but still viewed it from my window.

The sun rose and fell, over and over again.

The moon provided an eerie silver glow upon the fields.

It appeared as a false shimmering gleam of hope,

of desire; of desperation.

when has become the choice.

when is where, what, and why.

when is the guttural voice,

and when will stay until you die.