Everything I Touch Remains Unfinished…

Everything I touch remains unfinished.

With all of my greatest intentions

I have a love for everything

and I find the beauty in you

Yes… YOU reading this.

 

I have passion for everything I see

and I’m inspired by the tiniest things

Yet, everything I do remains undone.

If I box it all up, press it down, sit on it and ignore it…

Pretend I am put together,

Pretend I am a finished product.

Maybe no one will notice…

This half empty person,

walking around unfinished

And with dozens of things undone.

Novels. Poems. Degrees.

Conversations and Dreams.

All remain begging for my attention at my knees

and I just leave it unfinished.

 

 

But of course,

the pivotal moments where your life changes

so unexpectedly…

I couldn’t look into his eyes

as I had done hundreds of times

as he forced upon me…

the first thing that I would ever finish.

 

 

Inevitable Demise Between Her Thighs

He fell in love with a pair of legs

Mostly how it felt between them

Compassion and love soared there

but only when he was between her thighs.

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He wasn’t ready for the broken heart she possessed

guarded by fake smiles and secrets she withheld.

She wasn’t ready for his relentlessness

trying to stitch her together with his intensity.

She felt like a beautiful disaster in his eyes…

so she opened up regardless of her inevitable demise.

Despite the love that grew on better days

These two were like a hurricane

Misunderstandings made up bitter rain

Whirlwinds of daggers thrown

Flooding waters of pain…

There was so much hurt…

And in that hurt so much good intention.

But who could help but fall in love between those thighs

Where love and compassion lie

Where they could be pieced together

Never knowing it would lead to an inevitable demise

So toxic and connected that neither one of them would survive.

Bare

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I let you pick my flowers that bloomed

Spring was beautiful

and Summer was too.

But when Autumn came

Grey skies revealed the truth

And there was nothing I could do

Leaves browned and my flowers disappeared

My roots bare and my scars were revealed

My truth undressed for you to see

Instead of loving me

You would cowardly flee

As soon as the last flower is plucked

The last leaf has fallen

When there’s nothing left to look at… but… me.

Who will love me through the winter season?

Who will love what’s underneath?

They only appreciate the flowers that bloom.

Not the barren roots, held together by hope

under dark skies of gloom.