You said you like it when I’m nervous. You said I’m cute with my hands covering my laugh and my fingers twirling my hair. You said you feel less awkward when I glance awkwardly into my own lap. You loved that aching squirm that helped you cover your own insecurities. You hated when you’d inhale a line and I’d sit calm and patient. Indifferent to your flaws. You liked to offer me drinks in front of everyone, knowing full well I’d say no. Knowing full well that everyone would keep offering all night. You liked to make me walk in front of you, stumbling over my steps the way I stumble over the words that fall from me into you. You didn’t want to lead the way, afraid you might be the one to trip. You’d leave me at parties to see how long I’d wait. And lay claim to me in front of large groups so you could tell me later how you didn’t mean it. And the worst would come when my discomfort would leave you vulnerable. I’d spend all night vomiting up delicate caterpillars. And you would take fists and boots to snuff out their prickly lives. And through power hungry fits, you’d confess your secrets late into the night. And as I devoured them, feeding myself into butterflies, your thoughts would become poisoned bile at the realization. And you would beg for me to hand over my safe-haven cocoons. Terrified that I may be more comfortable than you. Terrified that I may be growing while you sat in front of me with your guts on display. So you spin your spider web across my body, wrapped in carefully-crafted blankets of silk. And when I emerged, you burst forth from eggs and laid waste to my thriving. Because you like it when I’m nervous.

I wanted to title this—Because if I knew that your mom was sleeping with everyone or that your girlfriend had cheated or had faked a pregnancy or that your addiction was spiraling out of control and you were scared of losing your kid, then who really had the power?

But that seemed a bit wordy and didn’t even begin to cover it.

He was the kind of love that pulls you apart from the inside.

Feral and ravaging.

Crashing and teeming.

Skin ripping from the pressure building.

He was my fingers dug into my palms to form crescent, blood moons.

He was my breath too heavy to catch.

My bones splintering from the weight of my blood rushing.

He was my eyes closed tight and my head tipped back and my chest full of melancholy and ache.

He was the kind of love that is breaking.

A war determined to eat me from my body.

Myself, torn in shreds.

He was my tongue wetting my lips and my skin warmed and aching.

The creep of longing that tumbled across my neck and back.

The bruises smarting against whispered touches.

He was the light that breaks through when you come out of the shadows.

He was the darkness that pulled me in deeper.

He was a frenetic up and down, drain circling, tantrum.

He was the angst that I craved.

He was words pouring out of me all at once.

And he was the throbbing in my hysteric heart.

The pulsing torment that’s deconstructed my being.

And the insomnia that continues to keep my eyes tired and my mouth starving.

My destroyed.

My raw.

My devoured.

My tormented.

My gritty.

My careening.

My burnt.

My blistered.

My wrecked.

My fiery.

My raging.

My tortured.

My drowned.

My lonely, deadly, can’t hold it together.

My never ending.

Ending.

All I want today

is more strokes of your breath

against my face as you touch

my life and leave indented mark.

I need to unclench my fists

and hold you close – a broken

winged bird but intact heart.

Let me barricade the whispers

of dark night when your race

is ended as I shed damp tears

of yesterday wanting you

to beat the odds and climb

the highest mountain,

borrowing the shades of life,

straightening limp blades of grass.

When the hidden shadows sigh

a soft release, let me murmur

reluctant acceptance of loss

as soul filters into the night

streaming away from me as

you remain forever in my essence

Give me the strength to endure

the somber silence and allow you

to breathe deeply of the sea,

to be free and fill your lungs,

memories diving beneath surface

but floating above and close to me.

All I really want is to share

another day with you.

I don’t always close my eyes when I kiss you

Sometimes I keep them open

Stare at the poster of Guernica behind your bed

Wonder what that dead soldier means

I always let you fall asleep first

Well

My arm falls asleep first

Then you fall asleep

And I shift to the opposite side of the bed

I’m afraid that if I hold you

You’ll feel what I feel whenever I close my eyes

I also get hot easily

I worry that depression might be contagious

Love isn’t a vaccination against it

At best, love is a mosquito net

With a few rips in it

So I build walls around myself

And hope that the germ theory applies to depression

That keeping myself at a distance

Will keep you healthy

Happy

I know what that dead soldier means now

I wrote a paper on it

Thanks for reading! If you liked this, consider following my Instagram @authortravisliebert or checking out my books on Amazon at the link in my bio :)

I know this won’t be what you want to hear

But this is how it goes each and every year

You don’t say what you mean

You just hide it all

It was one more rise before the last great fall

I guess this is the way it’s meant to be

I tried and tried and you just walked through me

I don’t think I’ve ever been so wrong

My only mistake was staying here this long

I’m sorry

But this doesn’t change things

You were never there and it was never enough

It was never enough and I’m done

I’ll wave just one more time but that’s all you get

That’s all you get

Now I’m gone

There is one last thing now just before I go

You needed time to breathe

But that just didn’t show

Now I will walk away

I will make this right

I will leave no trace before the morning light.

King bows to his Queen

she smiles grasping her power

building his ego

she polishes his gold crown

knowing the kingdom is hers.

Packed away behind the empty bottles of soothers, lays the truth of it all. Who would ever choose to take the real mess out and dust it off? Who would want to take one more good strong whiff of the tinny scented blood that dried along the edges? There was just enough. Just enough that it cracked and split perfectly, so allowing the right amount more to ooze through, filling the voids and covering the original injury. Time picked at the scab, insidiously. One more lie, one more dismissal, one more betrayal, and poof it was gone. What remains is a shiny, slightly darker, but brand new layer of skin. This scar's life is new, and laden with promise. It may be joined by others, or it may in fact have grown tough enough to scare away any potential intruders. No one who drags along behind them an expertly disguised bag of weapons, is easy to hide from. They can smell out the wounded, as if they are prey. With toughened scar tissue it becomes the job of the hunted to escape the carpetbaggers, and their deceptive techniques. Ever evading, they keep moving, while watching over a shoulder for the next strike that they can block. With scrunched eyelids, and a protective hunch against the stinging bite of a predatory killer, they win another day for the prey.