I look around at all these people...
And wonder if their smiles are just as fake as mine.
If You Want Me To ExplainIf I were to learn that all the lights were going to burst into supernovas all at once, and end the world as we know it; I would take you by the hand and lead you to a hill so we can see the fireworks and whisper "I'm glad I got the chance to love you".If You Want Me To Explain by inadequatelyME
If I learned that maybe God were real, I would thank him for many things, but mainly for putting you in my path because, without you, I wouldn't have had the opportunity to put more footprints in that dirt road.
If I were to lose everything: my possessions, my family, my experiences, my memories, my loves, I would hope that maybe someday I would meet you again, just to fall in love with you one more time. Fun fact: That was the best experience of my life.
If someone were to tell me that I love you too much, I would disagree. I could never love you enough. There is no limit to my love because I don't believe that there is a limit to us. We're young. We have time, and room to grow and time and room for our hearts to break our rib cages an
Communication BlockI'm useless without a pen in my hand.Communication Block by inadequatelyME
Try to understand,
Without the ink,
The only time I speak freely is when I am crafting a lie.
So much chaos inside
And tormented from confusion.
My favorite color is clear because I can see right through it.
I choke when you poke at my brain
Because only it knows what it's saying and
It doesn't feel like explaining itself to the likes of me.
I wish I could decipher my mind.
I have to
A feeling to understand it
So I am
To my own.
Only with a pen
In a poem or song are they even shown.
I am weak to think that I can communicate
When all I know how to do is
Manipulate my world into thinking that
I have any idea what I'm talking about.
I can only make sense of colors and eyes and disguises bred out of insecurity.
The world does not happen to be a mirror
So my feelings cannot reflect, thus
I am unable to reflect upon them.
If just a tiny bit?
I am a reader
And unable to read myself so
I have no clue what to tell you whe
I Can't Keep Going If You Don't"I'm sorry," he would whisper. She sighed her reply and dragged him into the bed they once called "theirs".I Can't Keep Going If You Don't by inadequatelyME
"You shouldn't be doing this," he told her as she took each tiny needle and dipped it into alcohol and then water and then onto the paper towel. She nodded, continuing her work.
"I can take care of myself," he grumbled as she spooned more of the mashed potatoes she made onto his barely touched plate.
"I'm not worth it," he choked out as she rubbed alcohol on his pinpricked arms. She looked at him directly in his broken, sunken in eyes.
She cleaned his house, hid his supply so that when the welfare agent came in, there wouldn't be a problem. She was the only thing he had, the only thing he had ever had, and she knew that. She didn't do it because she felt he would clean up his act. She knew that he never would. He wasn't born for greatness. He was born for squalor and poison and she was born to try and balance it out. It had hurt for the lon
How Are You?"So how are we feeling today Ms. Rosewall?" I look up from my clipboard at the thirty something year old woman who was keeping herself busy by nibbling on her flimsy, nubby nails.How Are You? by inadequatelyME
"Depends on you, doctor," she sang, grinning at me in an absent way.
I chuckled and sat in the plain plastic chair near her hospital bed.
"I am doing well. How are you?"
"Today is a bit purple, don't you think?" she lowered her gnawed hand and started counting the stitches on her wrist.
"Purple indeed. Are the stitches troubling you?" I asked as she glared at the threads.
"Troubling me, taunting me, laughing, laughing, laughing. Always laughing. But I suppose everyone needs something to laugh at." She stated, raising her nubby nails to her mouth again.
"Why are they laughing at you, Ms. Rosewall?" I inquired, scribbling onto my clipboard.
"Why do you think? Poking fun at failure, I suppose." Her eyes flick around the room as a sign of her fleeting thoughts.
"What did you fail at?" I ask, trying to keep her th
compareeins.compare by jaani-androphile
the smoke pouring out of her mouth,
(misty coils of a vague filth,
dancing to noir jazz, fading with each note)
smudged lipstick on the side of of her mouth,
and the little streak that crawled to her tooth
when she bit her lip in a supposed wonder,
and her eyes threw a faint film over themselves,
(like an elegant lady wraps a silk shawl around herself in a light breeze)
the light feet of a dancer
whose calluses were hidden under tight shoes,
whose toes would arch like Nut over her children,
(and she or you would spin with the earth, holding her frame as if-
as if earth was something of mass, as if it had a shape to hold onto)
whose leg would stretch over her head,
her arms, long, pretty, snakes, her fingers curled, and her wrists tense
(her eyelashes were grazing her cheekbones,
her ballet whisking her like a beaten egg, and the laces of her shoes
caught on a rusty nail, which sliced her ankle open, a wince danced on her lips,