Thursday, January 16, 2014

I want to know you

I want to know you. Learn of all your little things. Please, open your heart. 

Let me in.

Tell me about how your family blames you for everything that goes wrong. Tell me about the time you were five and you lost your shoe. Tell me about how sometimes late in the night and early in the morning you lose yourself. Tell me how you're scared of spiders and falling in love. Tell me how  you love the water and music that is too loud. Tell me how you eat your sandwiches and make your coffee(one sugar or two?). Tell me how you miss the people that have gone away. Tell me about that time in the dentist office you laughed so hard you almost swallowed the tooth they were yanking out. Tell me about your favorite flower. Tell me about the day you couldn't stop crying. Tell me about the demons that haunt you, the ones that carved those lines into your skin.
Tell me about the ex that broke your heart and the one you're still not over. Tell me about the time you went to the beach and stepped on a jellyfish that washed up onto the shore. Tell me all of the hilarious drunk memories you made with you friends. Tell me what you think about. Tell me how you learned to ride a bike; trembling and fearful. Tell me about your first time. Tell me about your favorite little cafe and how you get the same drink there every time you go. Tell me how much you hate spinach. Tell me of the song that gives you goosebumps. Tell me about the shittiest concert  you've been to(you still loved every moment didn't  you?). Tell me about the day your grandpa died. Tell me how you're still not used to him being gone. Tell me how you miss him. Tell me about the time when you were ten you first kissed someone. Tell me how much you love pizza and hate sushi. Tell me about how you chew your fingernails and shake your leg. Tell me how your heart beats faster when you walk into a room of people you don't know. Tell me how it beats faster when you hear my name. Tell me about your favorite book and how it makes you shake with anger and cry from joy. Tell me about every little part of you. Tell me the words you're scared to say. Tell me you love me. Tell me. 

Tell me everything.

Sunday, January 5, 2014

her ghost, his mansion


and i cannot compete with her ghost.
she haunts his mind like a mansion long abandoned,
stirring its contents into a whirlwind of miserable anger and tearful why's,
tearing down its walls and ripping open its floors like they were his heart she destroyed long ago.

i try my best to repair the damage;
picking up the broken pieces.
but you cannot repair something that refuses to let you inside.

home


hearts are like homes;
they can break
and shatter
and turn to ash,
to nothing.
they can be hollow,
empty.
or full
with regret
and sorrow
and pain
but,
they can also be 
whole
and beautiful;
full of love
and care
and peace
all of this
broken or whole
empty and bitter
or
whole and beautiful
all of this
the choice of its owner.