Never More Broken

He doesn’t care.
If he can even bear to laugh, he doesn’t.
He’s laughing now. I can feel it stabbing.
And here is my heart, thrown across the floor where his heart
is high above me, not seeing me anymore.
I am the equivelant of nothing
because everything that once made me something is
gone.
What had meaning is now meaningless.
What was bright is now cold.
What was smiling is now dead.
I am dead, murdered, rendered completely useless to anyone,
paralyzed,
sunk,
wounded,
broken.



Someone please make this go away.
I’m suffering.

13 Ways to Look At Clocks

1.
The clocks are jumping off the walls
and stilling the minutes. I catch them.

2.
I sometimes used to think in terms of years.
I was small.
I was of the age where my bones were quite visible
peeking under the fair and thin skin I was given.

3.
The years do not turn back to look at me as they go.
They never say goodbye, as if I do not matter at all.

4.
I grow tired of standing on
the same egg.
I grow wary of falling into
the yolk.

5.
How can I wake everyday,
wipe the calm from the corners of my eyes,
and go on like nothing happened at all the night before?

6.
A picture fades around it’s edge.
But it isn’t serrated,
just unkempt.
I seem to like it better that way.
It does scare me, though.

7.
My skin, once fair and thin,
is creasing.
I do not look the same woman,
the same girl with light.

8.
You never see the same sky twice.

9.
Belonging to you was the best part.
I tried to go back but sometimes,
as you know,
one finds their own feet stuck to the cherrywood by sap.
(it doesn’t care about what one needs to do)

10.
“Do you ever notice your surroundings?” she asked.
“All the time.”
She didn’t know that I really meant it.

11.
You would be discreet and
check the time, not realizing
ten years had gone by.

12.
That picture I ripped in half
really hurt you.
I could tell.
That was back when I didn’t care.

13.
Sometimes it’s hard to understand.
I stole the minute hand and it’s brother off the clock,
but it did nothing.
There is proof everywhere.
I wish I couldn’t see it.

Missing In Venice

Such silence, heavy silence. It weighted the air, dragging it slowly down. No bird song, no engines running, no shutting shutters, shuffling shoes, no breathing, no anything. Silent, all but the foreshadowing water lapping across itself, each wave warning the next one which warned the next, which warned the next until the rippling warning reached each structure and each structure was afraid.
Ships groan. One may not notice the baritone rumble hidden under other noise but in the silence which was thrusting itself upon Venice that day, the sound reached across the territory, covering it, it's vibration left behind, the windows trembling. In the light of the day's beginning the massive threat gleamed, it's black paint made shiny by the sun, so unsuspecting and therefor not inclined to cover itself in the clouds and invite them to cry. The ship pushed forth the clear sea water. Fish of different sizes and colors swam before it and were separated as the ships point cut through them slowly, carefully, parting the sea of color into two, one on each side of itself. The fish remained docile with lazy fins and shining scales, not caring about much of anything besides the warmth of the sea they swam in.
The ship grew closer and closer to the silent city. If there were people to see, they would wonder why the ship didn't stop or why it was headed the direction it was or why there was no name on it the ships side. They would wonder if Venice would survive. Some would flee and some would stay, loyal to the city they loved.
The ship grew so close that even the water seemed to stop. The mouth of the alley the ship approached was far too small to fit anything but a motor boat. Closer and closer, so slowly, the ship came, mere feet from the first cream colored buildings obstructing its path, and in that moment the city held its breath, the water stilled and all was frozen on a precipice, waiting. Then the sound struck. A sharp sound, like wood splitting under pressure, like thunder and the walls crumbled behind the great force of the luminous ship, crumbled and fell into the water below. The ship did not stop but somehow continued, ripping the buildings apart, making its way through the narrow waterway, dominating the sleeping city. Bridges were swept aside like moss. Other boats floating on the water disappeared below the belly of the great ship. The windows shattered in their panes. Floors of wood and stone buckled and collapsed. Doors splintered apart. The floor of the sea was shaken by the straining foundations of each structure above. The ear splitting sound of the screaming city echoed across every surface and far out across the sea, touching the distant horizon in all directions.

Close

Open fingers graze the landscape of velvet
between your shoulder blades,
down the slope of your spine.
Such soft silk I have never touched.

I love the depth of each shadow on your form
and each thought and whisper held inside.

Lips parted,
a door you've opened to me,
your breath slides out, warm.
Lips parted,
I catch the next:
blissful connection,
warm.
I cannot fathom a close space without the faint beating of your heart
filling it.

My eyes were born the day they saw you.

The End

I've just realized that I was completely mistaken about most of the people I once appreciated.
They've all turned their back on me in favor of gossip, backstabbing and that Bitch Ass grapevine.
I hate that Grapevine.

How could I have known before that they were not what I thought they were - free and spontaneous and in love with the little things in life,
loyal, trustworthy, all the things that I try to be and that I expect from best friends.
How was I to know that they were completely hollow, fake.
They only care about gaining from others misfortune. They will gladly sacrifice any person to be the one with more friends in the end,
to get out on top.

Violence has been tempting me.
Fuck.
Violence is ignorant and I have always tried to react with words but words aren't enough.
Someone needs to beat the living shit out of them, beat the sense into them.
They are so, so, so, so wrong.
I just can't understand who could be so, for lack of a better word, heartless, also shallow.
My fiance was the one to use the word "heartless". While I refrain from such words, it does seem to fit perfectly in with this puzzle.
This madness.

I am now friendless.
And the thing is, I don't have to be.
I could easily suck up to them, play the martyr and get back in their good graces, but there would be no reason for it.
If I were like them, I would do it. Because all that would matter to me is being everyone's friend and staying in their circle.
But I don't want friends like them.
I want friends I can trust.
Friends who won't say one thing to me and an ENTIRELY different thing to another.
Friends who make people who don't even know me hate my guts and make my other friends hate me as much as they do.
I want friends who make me happy.
And these friends, while we've had our good times, don't make me happy anymore.
They actually haven't in a while.

It's just a sad thing to discover that you're alone and that the things of the past have come to an end.
The good times:
morning raves in the car,
group speed smokes,
road trips,
narnia's,
codenames,
"heart to hearts".

Over.
It's the end.
And maybe for the better. Definitely for the better.
I still have the most important thing to me, Dillon, the love of my life. We will never be separated.
He's been unfailingly here for me, through all of this.
He shares my hatred for all but one.
Besides, I'm about to graduate and move on.
I suppose that the severing of my ties to them will only make it easier.

But for now it is hard. And I cannot shake my violent hatred for their betrayal.

In two words, I could summarize:

This sucks.

It Happened

The moment waited for, dreamed of for so long.
If finally happened.
He has arrived and I am filled with warmth, so much the winter breath
can not touch me.
He is taller. But his eyes are still honey.
He is different. But the same in the ways that matter.
And I love him endlessly, so much.

My heart is disobedient to my constant requests for it to slow down.
It is no longer used to such speeds.
It's been slow for so long.

I still feel his lips.

His scent has rubbed off on me like it used to.
For some reason whatever he's wearing is always more powerful than what I'm wearing.
Because all I smell is him, not myself, my own perfume.

He's coming to my house on Wednesday to help me and my mother decorate the
Christmas tree.
Cheesy,
CHEESY,
CHEESY.
I know.
But who cares. I will be with him.

We made it. We really did it.
All the time spent waiting, miles and miles apart, thirsty for sight where all that satiated was
the sound of the other.
He's back and we're still the same.
I think the ultimate pain had to be experienced in order for both of us to know the ultimate happiness.

WE RULE!!!!!

in two months it's a year.
: )

I am the happiest person in the world.

Still

In the summer, we were
vibrant,
alive and warm.
We took our time and fit ourselves wholly into the
routine of loving one another.
Mornings were spent
and nights cherished before this terrible hiatus.

The winter has come and turned me to stone.

I wish I had been still.
More still, so I could better gaze upon the perfection of you.
More still, so I could better remember that perfection.
More still, so I could better realize how luck smiled on us.

Now I am still, though not voluntarily.
I am stilled along with my heart, still here, still loving you and always
waiting for you.