She regretted her silence.
She regretted not putting up a fight.
She regretted blankly staring
into the off-white frame holding
one of the happiest moments of her life...
While he was giving her one of her worst.
Category: My Poetry
One Hour
In sixty minutes the sharp cascade
of volatile thoughts will cease
and I'll no longer be gagging
on the anger trapped
in the back of my throat.
My illogical rage cannot be challenged
with basic breathing techniques
and mundane meditative counting.
My only remedy is time.
So give me one hour...
Sixty minutes...
3600 fucking seconds...
And then I'll be okay.
201
I think about you every day.
I remind myself to remember
the complexity of your eyes,
the softness of your hands,
and the comfort of your voice
as I refuse to forget the details
that I held so close.
I will keep you with me
for as long as I can,
Even if only in my mind.
Nostalgia
I am nostalgic for that day,
even though it never existed.
In reality we were never there.
We never walked down that street under fluorescent lights. We never sat surrounded by bushes on that wrought iron bench.
Your hands never felt mine, our bodies never touched, and our eyes never did meet.
That day...
Those moments...
All those memories are fictitious.
Yet somehow, someway,
I still remain able to miss it.
Pedestal
Once I have put you on a pedestal
you will not come back down gracefully.
I will destroy what I've built you up upon
and you will fall by force.
The foundation that held you up so high
will crumble as I decimate the mortar
with bloody, broken hands.
And you will lay there
dazed and confused...
Surrounded by nothing but dust.
Strangers
We met as strangers,
but once we learned
each other's names
the rest quickly followed.
All of our likes and dislikes...
the things that made us tick...
our dreams, our strengths,
our pasts, our pains...
We grew together,
but then we fell apart.
Now we will leave one another
the same way we once met.
Midnight
At midnight her slippers
did more than disappear.
The fantasized facade fell away
and the eggshells she'd been walking on
returned directly under her feet.
She moved on reluctantly.
The hands of the clock
restarting more than what
they had ended.
Validated
No longer do I feel your validation.
Judgemental eyes now pierce
through each and every one
of my words.
My actions now frowned upon
with callous questions and
looks of pure dismay.
Yet your approval
is no longer required...
For your acceptance
means absolutely nothing
when I can give it to myself.
Burden
She didn't want to go,
but she knew she couldn't stay.
How could she remain in a place
where her love had become
such an awful burden?
Sweatshirt
Memories linger between
the threads of my sweatshirt.
Glimpses of lilac-clothed moments
retained within the stitches of
a cotton-polyester blend.
Simple fabric now consoling me
from my mind's wanderings to you.
AO Poetry 
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