I Am

I am but a vessel
Of decrepit dreams
Whole and broken
But that doesn't deter me

Burn me

Blind me
I do not bleed easily 

For I have walked
Alone in the dark;
All I fear is my own mind.

My skin has been plunged

In flames that were ignited

By my own failure.

I have stood at the precipice
My foot shakily hovering over the edge
Now my mind is an anchor
No longer do I sway.

Yet still, I remember the fear

Billowing through my veins.

Fear at the power I held
In my two hands as I
Dangled my feet
Off that cliff edge;
Tentatively dipped them
Into the dark.

Gazing down

At that charcoal black escape

Seeking freedom

My fingers briefly loosened their grip

But fear paralysed me.

It's alarming, the

Sense of realisation when

Your world has crumbled apart

In the palms of your hands

For hands have
The power to heal;
The power to destroy.

Perhaps that's why I did not use them In the past.

Hidden under a blanket,

Nestled in the crook of

Daylight's arms,

Neglecting them destroyed dreams.

Dreams; that

Coloured my mind

With soft hues

& lazy blues croons

Of summer afternoons

And sure, the stillness of

Your hands is honourable; is safe.
You will not do wrong
You will not be hurt.

But in their stillness, those hands lay

Quiet as the dead.

3 am thoughts

Unsurprisingly
He makes
A grand entrance
Into my 3 am thoughts

I'm annoyed (of course).

I Wonder What You Think When I Cross Your Mind

It's a nice thought.
Someone thinking of you;
Missing you and your little quirks.

Your angry rants and awkward mumbles.
Off-key singing and apocalyptic stomach rumbles.

When you greet me with a single word; acknowledge me,
It may mean nothing to you.
But that one sylable; half a second of time
Lifts the corners of my lips from the blue.

Deliberations

Shoved into the dark,
Blind faith my sole possession.
Simply awaiting
A single silverlining.

Sentimental

I'm not sure whether this would be classified as poetry; it's more so a collection of ideas. Thoughts. They're disjointed, alike the format - I thought they'd go hand in hand.

Sentimental.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't,
But I am.

Watching you with them kills me.

Why are you making this harder for me?
Because every time I look up, your gaze meets mine.
I close my eyes; open them to see you're leaning in towards her.
You whisper something in her ear and she blushes.
I; the voyeur.

I disregard my thoughts and redirect my focus.
I straighten up and continue writing, pretending not to notice
How my pen presses harder into paper, or
How your eyes follow me.

For some time, I'm convinced you're forgotten.
Temporarily, I'm rid of the pathetic little girl
Who waits for you to approach me
When you're bored.

And I do forget.
And I notice another man's interest.
We speak. The man laughs and sneaks secret glances.
I think I don't mind. Slowly, I laugh too.
The man puts his hand on my arm whilst I-

"Hey, are you busy?"

I don't need to turn around to know who it is.

Reponding, I still can't stop
The nine year old smile
That forms on my face.

And now you smile too.

My jaw clenches; my fists curl.
My anger soars, indignantly.
I shove at the little girl within; she is not welcome.
I press a pillow into her face and she screams.
I tie her to a tree, ignoring her pleas.
I cuff her hands, swallowing the key.
Yet nothing changes.

Why do you do this?

Because every time you turn away, you break my skin with your blade.
Because every time you return with a smile, you wrench it out; the wound unhealed.

Stop.

Stop plaguing my thoughts. Stop infesting my mind
With your half true promises and
Your half hearted love.

Ha, Love. Sometimes I believe.
Other times I do not.

Catching my eye; you dare me to keep your stare.
Your mouth upturns; your face softens.
But then you whisper into her ear,
Kiss her cheek.
Your eyes never leaving mine.
I close mine; re-opening them now.

Forgotten.