When does the torture end? It seems as though every chance at happiness I’m presented with, is met with disappointment and humiliation. The very notion of good within my life, is the perfect opportunity for the opposite, to prove it hasn’t left me alone. Vulnerability knows nothing compared to the nakedness of my heart and I’m forced to choose between what feels right and what really is. The problem with the hopeless romantic is not in their ability to find
The Devil in the Mirror
She saw the devil in the mirror.
An innocent glance at her own reflection turned into the realization of the person she had been. Her heart struggled with the contemplation of “what if?” She stared a bit longer at the woman looking back at her. Slowly losing focus on herself she sharpened her eyes on the man lying in the bed right behind her. Asleep peacefully and unaware of the dilemma in his woman’s heart. She picked up her phone and browsed the messages from her paramour. The distinction between the man in her hand and the one in her bed was sharp. Yet, the feeling in her heart between the two was abstract. A concept hard to grasp and a predicament unsure she’d regret. Tingling all over, she smiled at the affection burning in her fingers. She looked back into the reflection.
She saw the devil in the mirror.
Her lover spent his time and effort begging for affection.
Love Notes
A lamp hums ever so slightly next to my bed. The sound resonates around the room and through my head. The silence in this house is deafening. Alone with my heartbeat and this lamp, I dream of a future where going to bed doesn’t bring the dread it currently inflicts upon me. I crave the comfort of another under these sheets. The warmth emanating from their body as we drift into the comfort of sleep. The comfort of presence is a sense I took for granted and I have yet to fully accept the absence of it. Where once was love and life, now lies an empty pillow and a feeling of loneliness.
Break the Black
Starting blankly at the stars
Lonely and cold, only myself to thank
Absently listening to the passing cars
My mind is restless, my thoughts are blank
These stars stand bright witness, to my many nights
Running and pacing, through their constant view
Passing slowly, or quickly, under buzzing street lights
All in attempt to forget, or perhaps, bring back you
The Beauty In The Lights
He gets in his truck to drive sometimes. He doesn’t plan to go anywhere, but he figures wherever he ends up has to be better than where he’s at. The leather seat in his truck is cold, and for a second he contemplates how much he really cares about the smell of cigarettes in the cab. He caves and decides to endure. Rolling the windows down, he sparks up a cigarette and takes a drag. It’s soothing and relieves some of the anxiety in his chest. It never really crosses his mind just how much of a toll these little rolled up papers are taking on him. He just knows he doesn’t care. There is so much killing him now, why worry about what might kill him later?
Sure
I haven’t even begun to figure out what I want in my life now that you’re gone. I spend my nights, contemplating, a future which is reluctant to offer even a glimpse of hope. When I lie in my bed at night, the popcorn ceiling reminds me of the uncertainty behind me and what seems like an even more ambiguous life in front of me. When I close my eyes and fall into my dreams, I’m not comforted by possibilities of happiness. Instead, I’m tormented by the hostilities that lay dormant in my mind. Blackness is a comfort I whole heartedly enjoy. When my eyes are closed and I’m just breathing, the pain I feel in my heart subsides and I am comforted by the stillness in the room. There is no sound of another breath next to mine. There is no shuffle of a body trying to find comfort in this bed beside me. I am alone. In this loneliness, I am sure. I am sure until my mind gives in to the temptation of sleep. The trailer to my life begins to play on repeat, showing me the truth: I hate being alone.
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Mike Writes 