Two Cans And A String

I saw you. You were invisible and glazed over, 

like a ship sailing through the fog.

You spoke to me as if far away, despite our close range;

Two children placing a long-distance call with two cans and a string.

You gushed to me. Bragged to me. I smiled happily. 

You liked her more than me. Differently.

I walked away, cigarette in hand; I really should quit smoking. 

Tears warmed my cheeks as I began thinking.

"You face never lit up like this when you slept with me."

That night was a festival of reunited friends, to me at least. 

You hugged me, held me, touched me. Magic.

It suddenly mattered little that she had been a passionate lover;

Today you loved me instead. Was it because she left so suddenly? 

Would I still be alone crying if not for marriages complexities?

Nonetheless, I felt at peace. 

I felt worth something if only a fragment of anything.

This will come to pass. All of everything. All of you and me. 

I'll cry and you'll live happily.

Two Peas Being Eaten Alive

I love you. Too much. Not enough.
I hate you. Not a lot. Unavoidably& persistantly;
For not letting me try harder.
I want you. More than the starving need food & the homeless need shelter.
I fucked up. Over and over. I'm sorry.
I cry. Night. Day.
I dream. You love me too, then suddenly you love her.
I dream that you're making love to me... Then that you're making love to her.
I miss your hands in mine. On my face. On my skin.
I miss your lips pressed against mine. Kisses all day. All night.
Your hands aren't mine. Your lips aren't mine. You're not mine.
You no longer wake up next to me. You wake up next to her.
You no longer smile when you see me. I see you no more.
It wasn't worth it. All of them. All that I've done.
Now I have none of it. I lost you too.
I'd take it back if I could. I'd start new. I miss you. I love you.
"You'll get better, Samantha. You'll move on."
I won't. You were the love of my life. No one can tell me different.
Why wasn't I yours? Is it because of all that happened?
Is it because I wasn't what you hoped?
Was it because you found a world of better women?
I never stopped loving you when you hurt me.
I never stopped wanting you when you kept living the way you wanted.
I never stopped longing for you when I was swooned by other men.
I'm sorry I didn't try harder.
I'm sorry I wasn't better.
I know you'll be happier.
I'll never heal from you.
You are my forever love.
My heart will pine for you eternally.
You gave me everything.
Please, return to me.
We can forget everything.
Start new. Love passionately.

Precious

I woke up this morning out of another nightmare.
I woke up feeling alone and hopeless, broken and defeated.
I went out side to smoke and this man came up to me.
He introduced himself as Jeff.
He made small talk asking if I was a Lynden native; he was.
I began to tell him, sparingly of my plans to leave.
We sat for a while and it was somehow brought up,
he had been in a motorcycle accident some years ago.
He pointed to large indentation in his forehead and explained that he had died at the scene.
He then went on to tell me that he had seen/heard Jesus when he died.
"He is mine, devil." He claimed, the Lord had said, as he pulled him out of hell.

Jeff then went on to say that he had seen me sitting on the curb the day before, chain smoking.
He told me that he thought to himself, "That girl is chain smoking. What is going on in her life?"
He then claimed that the Lord had prompted him yesterday to come over and introduce himself.
He didn't have the courage to do it yesterday, but did today.
He asked me again, "What is going on in your life, that you're chain smoking through?"
I gave him a bleak answer of "I've been having a hard week."
He said he was sorry and God put words in my mouth that I didn't even know I felt.
I said, "Thank you, but you know, you can't fully appreciate the good times without having bad times."
He then told me something that I desperately needed to hear.
"You know, Jesus loves you, and you are precious in his sight. He wants you to seek him. He loves you."
He then continued to tell me, after I had prompted him,
that he was a christian with an addiction to marajuana.
It helped with the pain from his motorcycle accident,
But it had slowly become a crutch.
He also told me that it (marajuana) was the only thing that gave him courage to come talk to me.
I suppose I feel blessed that that was the case.
I needed to hear the words he said to me.
(Although I'm sad his addiction was existent.)
Although happy, I was sad I didn't open up more.
In my fear of strangers & men, I lacked the ability to speak with him further about God, or anything else.
I still don't know if he's a born again christian, but I do know that God was speaking through him.
I needed to hear that God thought I was precious.
It also felt good that this man who had never seen me before yesterday, felt the compulsion to encourage me.
I haven't felt to precious lately. I haven't felt important lately.
Thank you Lord for sending Jeff to talk to me.

Cruel And Unusual Punishment

Forgotten. A lonely leaf amongs a pile of pine needles.

Jagged. Broken glass swallowed by a curious patron.

Eaten. A cannible ansked nicely and I gave him full access.

"Eat and be happy."

It throbs. A weak attempt at keeping me alive.

Your touch is poison, seeping into my pours, clogging my chance at beauty.

Words. My most feared and most prized. Tortured by the in between.

Spilling at the rim. Exploding with fury.

I'm Mt. St. Helens and you're the man running.

A lepur pleading. Reaching. You smile and walk away proudly.

If her skin was smoother would you have reached out kindly?

Blugeoned. Death comes quickly.
Your words more forcful than a blunt beating.
I'd take the worst of it all if it ended with you kissing me.
My lips aren't as suculent as hers, apparently.

What is history? A more talked about version of what everyone's approaching.
Your indifference chills me. Coated with encouragement and false apology.
I'm sick. Acid turning like an alien swimming inside of me.
I'll give birth to a child named Adversity. A single mother struggling.

Why are you doing this to me?

What's In A Name?

Sometimes, something just feels right.

It feels sound. It's suiting. It's bona fide.

That was one of those times.

Could a hug ever feel so precise?

I am a puzzle piece, long forgotten, finally finding it's place.

So unexpected.

An impulsive gesture that turned into chemistry.

An accidental euphoria.

Hofman is put to shame.

I should right a play.

Shakespeare couldn't write one any better.

I shall right a novel.

Bronte would never compair.

I'll create a new genre.

None of the ones in exsistance will suffice.

Perhaps I am too ardent.

All I know is the moment you vanish from view;

I begin to miss you.

What is that called?

There must be a word for it.

Addictions

I just ran into an old friend from high school. He said hello and we asked each other the common first question that that people ask when they see a familiar face: "How have you been?" He said that he was good and that he was living in a rehab facility. When I asked why, he began to explain his drug addiction. It hurt my heart to listen to him, but I was over joyed to hear he had been sober for almost 2 months.

It makes me sad to see people from high school. It always seems like the people I reunite with are worse than when I saw them last. It's funny looking back, because all the warning signs were there when we were in school together, but I suppose every one of us thinks it wont happen to us. It won't happen to the ones we care about. But it does. All the kids I partied with are still partying and on the road to alcoholism. All the girls who gossiped with me about the list of boys they'd slept with are all pregnant or have children already. All the boys that smoked pot in their cars and were taking vicodin at lunch are now doing coke, heroin, and meth.

I wasn't perfect in high school. I'm still not perfect. I sin every day, just like the rest of the world. I've gotten so drunk I can't stand, I've gotten so high I can't speak, I've had sex with people I wish I hadn't. In saying that I can not judge the people who continue living burdened lives, because it's only because of God that I'm no longer living the same life as them. Yes, I still make mistakes. But I learn from them. I can only hope that one day, the people I speak of have the same epiphany I did and decide to make their lives better.

Before me and my long lost high school friend departed he told me that he was expecting a second child with his long term girlfriend who he has a two year old with. He told me that he's trying to get back into a relationship with God. He told me that he's happy he's getting better. It gave me hope. To all the people who think that people can't change, you're wrong. It's all in a matter of will. If someone wants to change, they will find a way to. I have hope. For all of you.

I have had many addictions. Addictions that I was too scared to admit I had. I still have addictions. I just want anyone who's reading this to know; if you are struggling with something that you want to kick, talk to somebody. Anybody. Half the battle of fixing a problem, is admitting you have one. Don't let shame, guilt, embarrassment, or fear keep you from confiding in someone. No matter how minor or uncontrollable you think it may be, talk to someone. Ask for help. If all else fails, Confide in God. He always listens and he always answers prays. But if you ask for Gods advice, listen with an open heart, because it may not be the advise you want to hear, but it will always be the advise you need to hear.

I pray for all of you who have life altering struggles. There is power in prayer. I know this from personal experience. If anyone needs someone to confide in, you can email me. You don't have to tell me your name, I won't give you advise if you don't want it. I'll simply listen. I know that's all people need sometimes.

pigeonholesandpolaroids@yahoo.com

Psalm 34:18 The LORD is near to the brokenhearted And saves those who are crushed in spirit.

Clandestine

The antidote with a hint of the sickness.

The serrated edge ripping through layers.

Their eyes searing.

Their lips firing rapidly; 

Laughter like Bullets. 

A kiss is no more soothing than a Hornets sting.

Back for more. Never dying.

Cement dried to my ankles. Cracking.

I've become part of the fish bowl. Trapped. Unchanging.

A glimpse of sanity; His grin grows inside of me,

Neutralizing the malignant mess that once occupied my chambers.

Safety comes quietly.

Creeping like the morning sun, 

filling everything with light.

His lips sooth the swelling once bestowed by the bee.

Words like a clapper sending ripples through me.

How may a bell make music without you?

Defective

Emotions are useless when one speaks of this "Love".

Sick to my stomach longing. High in the head joy.

Tingling fingertips when you touch me.

If this is love, I have a burning heart for puppies.

If it is sound to love at first sight, why is it wrong to hate at first glance.

Is it wrong to assume that perhaps both emotions can't be justified without cause?

Married on a whim to live happily ever after. Suddenly love is gone.

Tear the bond with a scribble of a pen and a drop of a gavel.

Then, you find love again. Miraculous? No. It is but a show. A lie.

You know nothing of Love. 

It all ends at Courtship, and even that is debatable.

Love is a myth. Conjured by women who dreamed of a better world.

Women are the story behind "making love". No man is truly capable.

We have sex to repopulate. There is no Love in sex.

Women were planted to help man. Men need heirs,

Thus, we give them what they need. 

Love has nothing to do with it.

The only love that exists is between a woman and her child.

There is no love between a woman and a man.

You think you know what Love is?

 It is sexual desire. It is selfish camaraderie.

No mortal man can fathom love. Only God is capable. 

Yet, God can not hug a woman in tears.

Love is tainted. 

What shell can hold love, when,  amongst it's shelves are viles of

Hate, Jealousy, Malice, Envy, Betrayal, 

Vanity, Selfishness and Debauchery?

All of the flaws that man holds in them are

 made more pure by this ghost of Love.

A means of making us worthy. 

A lore that gives man a story to tell and a life to live wholly.

Love betrays. Love is misunderstood and held in a light that we are blind to.

Love makes One do crazy things. 

It makes you Kill. That doesn't seem right to me.

Do not say "I Love You" When you don't know what you speak of.

Love is not what you feel. You feel Lonely. You feel Lust. 

You feel as though you're dreaming.

Wake up. Nothing, my dear-- Love is nothing how it seems.