September 2017

on 9/7/17 she wrote:

Its like I want to be alone, but i want to be touched.
Im waiting by the phone, cause the cravings i lust
for are feelings I clutch to
like meat to a bone.
Is that too much?
Is it so wrong?
To write you lyrics just for that chance you’ll be singing along?
To give to you in hopes that
you’ll do the same…
So that hopefully in the end
more than nothing will remain?
Yet, I want to be alone;
Can you even see my soul?
If I only give you parts of me,
How can you see my whole? Hardly.
You cant.
Its hopeless romance
Its belief with no stance.
We’re given cards, see where they land
either make a move or throw the hand.
We either choose to sit or stand
Its either yes or no I cant.
Damn…
Do I want to be alone?
Or do I want to be touched?
Either way I have the feeling that it’s just too much.

i replied:

i lived much of my life alone.
having touched none.
living unknown. shying from the sun.
i only wanted to love you.
all of you. but i only got parts of you.
parts that scathed. fragments that maimed.
the pieces, in pride, you claim
as righteous were the same
as shards of angst that you drove
into me. won’t you see? my whole
was for you. in every shade.
in every piece of this mosaic
that you once called me.
i never was good enough.
eggshells beneath my feet
made me numb to the earth
beckoning for love.
there will never be nothing.
there remains the promises
in lyrics i sang long before
we twined our hands.
there is only standing.
i was never one to sit.
but to stand and take
your hail was more than
i could bear. so i walk.
in leaving, i see
your ambivalence more
crushing than your abuse.
you don’t know if you want
to be alone or be touched.
i only wanted to love you.
was that too much?
i live my life alone.
still having touched none.
an old soul. shying from the sun.

9/8/17