I rise each morning to an empty bed,
an empty space beside me that could never hold me.
Each day, I jump in my car to reach another deserted destination.
There is no one waiting for me with roses.
This is the life I have created for myself,
a life of voices as my only companions.
Am I not proud of my independence?
Was this not what I wanted?
I have clouded my vision of freedom with this sour life.
I convinced myself that dreams would romance me enough,
that a friend would do every once in awhile.
I did not know how lonely the echo would be
nor did I know my perseverance would falter.
It is grand to not have any strings.
I never explain myself to the ones who try to change me.
In a sense, I am free of the burden of obligation.
I do not have to care if another heart is breaking
yet I long for the warmth of another body.
I need to feel arms entangled with mine.
When I fall to sleep, I do not want to be alone.
Somewhere in the night when I entertain a man, I leave them to their empty bed
with nothing to remember me by
because I do not want any obligations just the same.
I cannot be angry at the lonely space beside me
and I cannot grow weary of the roses never waiting
because this freedom that sometimes leaves me lonely
has become my comfortable solitude.
You speak of forgiveness.
Do you know the images you gave me in my head?
How could you?
You do not listen when I speak.
You refuse to see the truth in my eyes.
Do you know the wicked in what you ask of me?
Perhaps you see only your hopeful light under your closed eyes.
You tell me my threads will come together but I doubt you.
Will I be forgiven for my wrong?
Shall I release you from your sin?
No, I doubt myself.
You tell me you forgive me
but I cannot recall for what.
Or for begging?
Do you still imagine me below you?
Pushing you away?
Can your ignorant ears still hear my tears?
Your hatred broke my rainbow
and, yet, you want my forgiveness.
You smile with spite.
You yearn for me to release you from what you did,
from your own black soul,
but you never cared for mine.
After all those years, you never cared for mine.
Careless words flying in the air
test my strength but I will not falter.
Words spoken without consideration
to a bruised heart.
Swarming close to my ears,
they do not break my resolve.
Do they know what they cause?
No, they are ignorant to the hurt
in their remarks.
It is quickly brushed away
like a fly on sugar
because they will never know
the horror of what they speak of.
It will never touch them
because it always happens to someone else
but does it?
They do not see the girl
sitting beside them
They do not see
the invisible bruises she hides
by their callous words.
He stood by the window that morning as I rolled over to look at him,
stark naked with his hands on his hips, thinking of a secret he was not sharing.
His hair was rustled and there was a dreamy look in his eyes as his shoulders flexed, relaxed.
I thought to myself as a smile spread across my sleepy eyes that he was beautiful in the morning hours,
maybe this one would be different then all the others that have stood by that window.
I wanted to reach out to him, to pull him back into that warm bed beside me once more,
to make love to the sounds of the birds but I knew I couldn't.
I knew the rules of this game.
He was to come to me so I waited, watched as he turned towards me, saying good morning
as he reached for his pants that were tossed in the heat of passion the night before and
I knew how this story ended in that moment.
It was the usual routine, felt it so many times before.
Love me for a bit, for a moment, for his pleasure, and then I disappear until my name floats back into your consiousness one random day.
I rolled over, trying to hide the disappointment of our meaningless night, another man to add to my growing list of hopefuls-never-to-be.
He put his hand on my hip, leaned in close to me and whispered,
"I was a beautiful sight first thing in the morning."
He told I was lovely as he gently stroked the inside of my wrist
and I said, "Yes but you will you love me tomorrow?"
He tilted his head and smiled that smile,
leaning close to my ear, whispering he would love me forever.
I giggled, he wanted to be pleased, and I was willing to play.
Off we rode into the night, finding our way to each other
where he handed me yet another cocktail.
I smiled his smile, the one he called breathtaking,
and asked for a tour of his home,
knowing the final destination.
In candle light and Sinatra serenading,
our passion filled the air among soft moans, wild gasps.
The question was never would he love me in the morning.
The question was would I?
So, another failed attempt at love to document,
an addition to my life lived on paper, right next to all the others.
Sometimes the fool takes over and I imagine attributes into people that aren't there,
somehow believing they are different, they are better.
I tumble my way back down the mountain of faith, cursing the entire male race.
Okay, so my heart didn't break this time but it never really does anymore.
I won't deny that I do occasionally bruise however.
This one called me just a girl more times that I can remember,
basing my character on a number that will grow with time.
I'll just chuck this guy up with all the other who praised me under the stars
and disappeared when the sun came up.
He was just a boy dolled up in a man's skin,
still drinking into the sunrises and bouncing from one bed to the next.
I know my world makes most men piss their pants, my instant responsibility,
but I wasn't asking for a ring, just some good times.
I am too much woman for these boys, I know.
I got better things to do.
You walk up to me and I become a blubbering idiot.
You smile and my face lights up and I'm completely lost to myself.
No man has ever sent my stomach into such an uproar until you.
I have been able to keep my cool next to the most charming,
always aloof with my words, never out of control with anyone else.
I stumble with you, reverting back to middle school hesitations.
My hands fly to places, uncomfortable hair twirling.
Never before have I been intimidated by the likes of a man.
I know the game, what they want, and ultimately what they do not.
I can take them or rip them up just the same,
leave them behind without even acknowledgement of ever knowing them in the first place.
Then you came along, kind and respectful, throwing me off my guard
but I know you could just like all the others.
Your broad shoulders give me thoughts I cannot say.
Your stupid grin inspires dreams that I will never tell.
You make me laugh, giggle like a dumb school child.
I don't know if I'm impressed or disgusted at this behavior.
You stand next to me and I become a bashful fool.
Your eyes meet mine and my heart skips.
I can ask any man out without fear of yes or no.
It doesn't mean a damn either way but you make me care.
And that makes me angry.
You were an image I couldn't quite see, couldn't quite touch.
All I knew was that I wanted you to solidify or disappear all the same.
A streak followed you every time you moved, vague white strands.
I wanted to grab hold, go for a ride, to see how far you could take me
but never knew how to lift my arms to reach you.
Standing in doorways, you leaned like you had no cares in the world,
like you were waiting for me to jump out of my seat for you.
You walked through the air as if you were floating
but I saw the walls you bumped when you thought I wasn't looking.
I would sit for hours, wondering why you never uttered a word.
Something sat on your lips as you silently moved from room to room in my head.
It was in your eyes, the ones that went from vacant to vibrant,
the ones that swooned my very heart and frayed my soul.
I could see right through you most the time even when I did not want to.
Your presence always had a way of comforting, your sweet mute ways.
You would sit at the edge of my bed while I slept.
I would hear the things you could never say in my wake,
slipping your way into my dreams in your smooth fashion,
but I would always rise in the morning to your quiet face.
You brought the sun with you every where you went,
the rays almost seemed as they shined from within you.
And, as I watched you standing there so calmly,
I thought maybe I am the one who is barely here, a ghost in my own skin.
It started out so easily, you know.
I'll be with you this day and you the next and whatever.
We'll see where it goes but that was the problem.
It never went anywhere.
You'd wink at me occasionally from across the room,
walk by me with a whisper of those nights but you never went further than that.
It drove me crazy the way you would swagger by me and give me nothing
while my stomach had a circus in my intestines.
It was odd for me to react in such a fashion towards a man, towards you.
After all, the only thing I knew about you were the size of your shoulders.
Then, there was that night at that party and you plucked me out of the crowd,
seduced me in a way that I thought you were something that you weren't.
Sometimes I'm delusional, I know.
I have to admit I was able to drive home but I was playing your game.
We were driving, dreams in my eyes and passion brewing in my fingertips.
You told me to stop playing games, thinking that you had me figured out
but I just laughed.
What were you doing?
What else could I do?
You always looked at me in a funny way, like you knew more then I was telling.
Sometimes I wanted to slap you just as much as I wanted to climb on top of you.
The truth is it was me who had you all figured out.
You're quite simple once I threw all the mushy shit out.
We're both fools.
I probably still like you, probably too much.
My thoughts turn lude more often then I will admit.
But, maybe, it was all your fault all along.
It crossed my mind that first night and then the second;
the comments you would make, the terms you would use, the questions you would ask.
At first, you thought I wanted an instant family but you were wrong.
Then, you thought I wanted to be your personal play thing but you were wrong again.
I wasn't interested in either but you couldn't hear me when I tried to explain.
I just wanted to see where it went.
You had issues with me and maybe it had nothing to do with me.
You looked at my youth like it was some deadly disease.
You feared my child, scared you more than anything to do with me.
You asked so many questions about her but I never answered
because she had nothing to do with those passionate nights.
I've written so many poems about you, I don't know if I have anything left to say.
For a man who skimmed the essence of my life, you have inspired far too many words.
From now on, please ignore that I still blush every time you walk by
because really that's all you ended up being, just a blush on my cheek.
I thought maybe we could talk or pretend some sort of conversation existed
but the more I looked at you, the less words I wanted to share.
Oh, it's nothing harmful really,
just the way your perfectly lined mouth gazes at me through this stale air,
but this poem is not really about you or the conversation I'm not dying to have.
No, it's about me and the way I can't stop reacting to the outlines on t-shirts
or how enticing the sound of a beer by your pool sounds at any moment of the day.
I guess you are in the mix somewhere, though not very clear where.
I pictured a million moments that have never happened with you
and the closer your reality became, the further I ran.
What do you bring to my table?
I do mean something wicked but never in any fashion to cripple,
just a friendly spat between once lovers and never to be friends.
This poem has very little to do with you, darling,
and more to do with my reactions towards men in general.
I tried to pick out wedding china once.
I thought it should have bright blue skies with a sombrero,
a fiesta in our honor,
but I couldn't control my laughter at the mere silliness of us
because honestly I don't want anything from you other than a good time.
You fidget too much for my taste.
I lack the sensitivity to care.
Put your inuendos back in your pants, sir.
Your stride when you walk near me makes me think I am your prey,
whispering to myself that you keep on walking as my face turns into the sun.
You only make it glow, the thought of your talent between our dirty sheets.
Maybe we could just skip this small talk, the polite lines we share,
and go straight to what we do best,
to what we do better in the dark.
Don't be fooled, lover,
You are just as arrogant as I.
We will butt heads until one of us gives up our pride.
No, this poem has nothing to do with you or the things I fancy of you in the bedroom.
At the end of the day, I'm just a girl who has been in love with writing her entire life. I am full of quirks, anxieties, fears, joys, laughter. And all I have wanted to do was give the world a smile.