Lacrimas

Tears.

They start calmly. 

Welling up and blurring your vision. 

Slowly they take control of your sight and force you to leave the smooth, white ceiling you are stare at. 

You feel that first, sticky drop roll it's way down across your jawline and skate off your face to be the first form a growing puddle on your soft pillow as the night grows weary and hopeless. 

Tears stream out of your eyes and you question why you cry. 

You lose yourself in thoughts of self agony and know that life will not be okay. 

You will not control your depression. 

You will not control your anxiety. 

You will continue to cry each night. 

Starting with those calm, creeping tears that come to drown you while you lay in self-pity.

June 10, 2015 at 3:45 am 

Untitled

Laying here.

Not knowing what to think. 

Not knowing what to say or how to act or the proper way to feel. 

It's overwhelming and breaking.

It's painful and vicious. 

Nothing compares to its touch. 

Nothing compares to its thoughts. 

Laying here while it reaches up through your spine and ribs. 

Grabs your heart and squeezes until not a single drop of life can be uncovered. 

June 10, 2015 at 3:43 am 

2:55 a.m.

At 2:55 a.m., not even the songbirds have woken to share their joyous harmony. 

At this hour, the last call is said and lost souls whistle through their whiskey covered lips trying desperately to venture home. 

At a time like now, there is a still in the moonlit air where only night owls should be hunting their prey. 

At moments frozen as these, I should be trapped in a solace penumbra, fast asleep, with my mind dancing through shimmering streets. 

But, as I lay here restless, listening to the calm beat of my heart, my imagination drifts to a locus I dare not recollect. 

As I drift into a slumber, I commemorate the taste of your rough lips brushing against my soft cheek. 

As I repose, your steady hands feel warm across my chilled back. 

As I marvel at the though of you, I look into your pastel blue eyes and see the gentle longing to take all that I am willing. 

As I wonder when I will be reunited with my love, my heartbeat skips and disturbs it's sanctifying rhythm and I sink into a cherished languor where I may wake hand to hand, chest to chest, and lips to lips with the one I call my beloved. 

2/8/15