Writings of a Phobophobe.
12am: Go to bed.
2am: I pray for faith.
4am: I dreamt of you.
6am: You’re not here yet.
8am: The heart’s yearning.
10am: You never came.
–
I guess the angels took you
As you’re needed where they are.
Perhaps I deserve this hurt
Because I had a piece of heaven.
But bless me so
Let me sleep better with each passing night.
Candles lighted,
Before us a creamy buttery slice.
In the sepia and dim,
Light was brightest in your eyes.
In all snow and white,
You brought flaring summer.
Two heart popsicles,
Melting into sweet pink mush.
As if diving into the sea
While a fighter jet flew by with uncertainties.
As if the conductor raised his hand
And the orchestra of worries halted.
He seemed to be her sense of peace,
Calming to the point she could hear her heart racing —
Unsure if it’s from the anxious thoughts.
Or the sheer presence of him.
Tippety tap, tippety tap
Footsteps hurrying.
Tippety tap, tippety tap
Raindrops fighting.
Tippety tap, tippety tap
Fingers stimming.
Tippety tap, tippety tap
Her heart thudding.
Scattered mass;
Glorious mess.
Towering strongholds —
The only grasp of reality.
Deep, dark and blue,
Under white sheets, crinkled and rippled.
Drowning in bubbles,
With pockets of glee escaping the abyssal.
Silent yet loud,
Very much dead, yet throbbing for revival.
Counting each time
You made my heart race,
Like needles on the sewing machine,
Thumping in and out.
Fast and slow
Then turning the edges,
Whirring along the outline of us
Slightly hurting yet seals us complete.
You’ve forgotten how to love.
You’ve forgotten your own worth.
Suppressing your needs for another,
At her beck and call.
Money, time and pride
You gave it all.
The beauty of love,
Is that it is mutual.
I’d show you,
If you’d love anew.
Is it greater pain,
To have found true love and lost
Or to never have found before?
He should’ve known better.
That hunger
Was not an unsatisfied desire;
But rather
A temptation of an emotional encounter.
killgwen 