I’m sorry that I’ve been M.I.A. My grad work has picked up, and I’ve also been writing the sequel to my romance book. But, I have some good news. I have released a new book! Today! This one is just a small book of poems, and I’m more nervous about this one than any other work. Maybe because it’s not fiction. I mean, it’s thoughts, and feelings, and it’s more of who I am than a romance novel. I’m wondering if any of you feel this way? That you can write anything, except when it’s about you?
No? Just me?
Anyway, if you want to read something interesting, (LOL) and support an indie author, then click the link below. If you find yourself overwhelmed with the poems, then be kind and leave a review. I love you all, and I hope to be back up here tonight with some more stuff.
Love, Undefined: https://amzn.to/2LsLvq8
I was down today.
I didn’t have much to say.
In all actuality I had thoughts,
But I fear my truth will keep me caught.
So I pretend, and in a way become brought.
I stayed tied in knots.
I was at the point of depression.
Caught in the confession of my accession to my oppression,
When I received relief that came as a sweet, cool decompression,
I was in this wonderful feeling of refreshen.
My comfort comes in words.
In the feelings they bring.
Of that life-changing comfort that causes one to sing.
Such a perfect thing.
A kindred spirit is hard to find,
That is why I’m here to remind,
And make sure that you’ll be kind,
To my love affair,
That I’ll swear without fanfare,
No one understands me.
I’m not sure who I am.
I’m not sure you’ll like who you really see.
I’m not sure I can freely be me.
My heart hurts.
My chest burns.
I have no relief.
I can’t seem to see straight.
The weight of the world is on my shoulders.
I have no relief.
I can’t tell the truth.
It won’t set me free.
My body is tired.
I know no other option.
I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired.
I don’t know what I hope to accomplish with this.
Maybe my pain can give someone else comfort.
A moment of bliss.
My truth is I cannot tell it.
I hate myself.
I hate my thoughts.
My wants, and desires, and hope,
It’s been stripped from me.
Yet I have to be strong.
I cry at night and in the dark.
So that in the day I’m light and full of false snark.
It’s in the words.
This dream confused me.
For the life of me, I can’t let it be.
Our stomachs pressed together.
Dur et doux.
Why would that stick out to me?
Why should I be turned on by your stomach against my own?
My heart was racing, thighs and panties wet,
Ready to be your pet.
It was then I paid attention.
You whispered words in my ear.
Nonsensical, fast, slow, words.
With every word you spoke,
My mouth watered.
My skin pulsed.
My eyes dilated.
I wish I could remember the words you said to me.
I wish I could hold them close for the lonely nights.
I wish I could carry them with me like I do my sight.
It was the words.
It’s one thing to say something.
Another thing to mean it.
What would it take?
For you to put it all at stake?
My dream was you gave me you.
But now I know that it’s not true.
I don’t like being torn.
I say yes, but I don’t mean it.
I say no, but eyes say otherwise.
It’s not fair.
Making you out to be a mind reader.
But it’s what I want.
I need for you to decide.
I need you to tell me otherwise.
Pouvez-vous voir ce que mon desir ardent pour moi me fait?
Say you’ll stay even when I scream at you to go.
Say yes even when I sound bitter and tell you no.
I’m a small disaster you see.
I don’t I’ll ever just be.
I looked up,
And you were there.
I tried to speak,
But you shook your head.
I stepped back.
You walked forward.
“I went too far,” you said.
“I took too much,” you pled.
“I should’ve tried,” you shouted.
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to fight.
Anything but feel this.
This burning in my chest.
This racing heart.
“I lost myself along the way with you,” I spoke quietly.
I walked forward.
You stepped back.
You tried to speak,
But I shook my head.
“No. It’s my turn to speak.”
I can feel a change coming over me.
I’ve said this before.
I battle with a lot.
This other part of me.
This double life I’m living.
Beautiful one day,
Wrecked the next.
Nothing is enough.
Nothing satisfies me.
There is no limit.
I shouldn’t click but I do.
I can’t keep my thoughts straight.
A song comes on the radio.
I feel that I should go.
Mon esprit me dit toujours non.
You are a drug.
I swear I’ll never go back.
Just one more time.
But then I see your name,
and it’s like a sign.
Times, minds, drawn.
I can barely get my thoughts out tonight.
Because what’s promised is more delight.
Is it selfish?
To want to feel this for only me?
To not care about you,
To not care about what anyone else feels.
I want to take,
I never got to before.
I’ve always given,
Put myself on the back burner.
I tell you the rules.
Instead of being bothered,
You only smirk.
Glance my way,
And take off your pants.
Draped across the bed,
You tell me to take what’s mine.
We’ve got nothing but time, is what you said.
I have your pleasure,
But only if you take mine.
This has never happened to me before…
I desire to never be afraid,
Yet I stand trembling.
I want to be free.
Yet I’m chained to this bed that has me adrift like the sea.
What I want,
Seems more like a haunt.