Night Like These...  

And its night like these that I notice how affected I really am...

The world winds down, my mind begins to run its course, I have been too busy to notice the familiar pain,


it is not he, I miss

it is me, before him


I have noticed the colder look in the mirror reflecting back at me

The inability to laugh as heartily, the lessening of free flowing conversation


How do you explain the feeling of being ripped away of your best friend,

my old me, comfortable, free, happy.


I blame no one,

a lesson to be learned and yet forgiveness comes and goes

as I look at myself with my third eye and I cannot quite grasp

the unshed tears or the echo of pain between lungs


Can a soul cry?

I wish him the very things he excavated out of me,

unsure of my own sincerity but how can you explain the feeling of disdain

without the desire of wishing evil, in all honesty, because

God saw the whole thing


Yet I am ashamed at the power he unknowingly holds on my brokenness.

I cry not as hard as I should be, not out of sadness of endings, but allowed robberies that I have given the armory.


Love cannot be blamed-false prototypes enjoy

decorating its name and encrusting cubic zirconia and fools gold.


Life without him, is fulfilling, but i am not the same like rashes from the allergic reaction

to the fallacies of your shine.

Diamonds do not shine...not once did you reflect the warmth my purity gave.

I miss my happy that came free. I see it sometimes but not on nights like these.


Realizing I was chasing a dream, can true love exist, for me?

As she is right now, afraid of the hopelessness, reaching extreme highs and lows.


Who can you run to, when you are so busy saving everyone except yourself?

Unable to save face, anonymity in feelings is my biggest cursed gift.

How could I ask for help if I could not possibly know where to begin to formulate words to explain

my emergency, Missing persons. This girl has been missing for weeks, months, even over a year.


Wandering aimlessly, in a world of of forgotten memories.

If i do not respond to your inquisitions mentally I am out looking for me.

She does not go too far but she never remains close enough for comfort.


I loved her once until I stopped following her home.

My mind paces, attempting to retrace footsteps, maintaining the perfect,


i tire in self preservation

but on nights like these who else will?

Will you? Letter #1 For Him

30/30 Emotional instropection