you were my january, new and fresh, waiting and eager

you were my february, lovely and red, short and sweet

you were my march, long and gruesome, grey and heavy

you were my april, clean and damp, lively and green

you were my may, blooming and new, wispy and pale

you were my june, loved and fiery, hazy and breezy

you were my july, red and blue, revered and bright

you were my august, muggy and sweaty, sticky and hot

you were my september, dreaded and anticipated, stressful and hectic

you were my november, chilly and windy, biting and thankful

you were my december, merry and cheery, pining and frigid

but most of all,

you were a year wasted.

(and i found you, already on my mind)
by John Mahoney

the morning sun rushed lazily
   down the long, cold winter morning to me
the cold outside, was terribly unkind
the wind howling in the sky so grave
     like the day, you wordlessly went away
(and i found you, already on my mind)

then you walked in so gracefully
   you took my breath away to see,
as our love, become entirely entwined
my life once again in utter disarray
     like the day, you finally decided to stay
(and i found you, already on my mind)

June 15, 2015

Burdened by the pain that was left from my past
lovers,
I had to lose myself.
Creating a list of impossibilities to avoid the
reality of life and love,
I had to lose myself.
Pretending that I could **** without emotions or
strings attached,
I had to lose myself.
Perpetrating as an uninhibited woman abusing
my temple,
I had to lose myself.
My past had created a new me,
A tainted me,
A me who could not allow a real man to love me,
So,
I had to lose myself so I could love you better.
Now I can appreciate your love for me,
and the fact that you love me flaws and all.
I see the real me through your eyes, I've found
myself.

Sometimes I get lonely
for the old days
when I drank a lot
and didn't think too much.

  ~mce

This is an open letter to all of those who don't understand what it means to be tortured by the very person you love
Dear Whoever You Are,
Humans get a sort of deranged pleasure in loving something that kills them. You see darling, each time i run back to him he sweeps me up in his arms and dips me in the forest we once knew so well in the small glow of the burnt out street lamps and sips up all my happiness just to leave my hollow bones and make the moon my perfect company. You see, it still troubles my vacant mind why I always charge back to him but i do it anyway and that, is the most agonizing part about loving someone who kills you.

It's okay
I'm used to it
Being a disappointment
I've become numb
To the pain
That comes with it
It's okay
I'm used to it
Being a useless mess
I've become cold
To the ache
That accompanies it
It's okay
I'm used to it
Even though I shouldn't
I no longer feel
The hurt
That comes each day
*it's okay
i'm used to it

My, my, my* -
My body knows
That you are not here.
It's tired, it's restless -
It needs your *******
Pressed up against it;
Your thigh tucked in
Between both of mine.

I don't miss you -
I need you.
My body knows
And I have a fever.