Letters To Him #3

I used to pity you, and all that you had gone through. Every action that had led to the scars on your heart, all the wrong you did not deserve. That is until I discovered the vengeance you seek in those you find unworthy. What defines worth, my dear? To you, the expectations on value and respect are never held to your own doing. So what defines worth? Innocent souls trip on mistakes in your path and you condemn them for life. What defines worth? You do realize that this pattern of defining another’s worth, to you, is a viscous cycle of revenge, right?

You will never find happiness and peace while battling a non-existent war. Look around, my dear, for you have wounded those around you who have had nothing but love for you. Hearts that have been misplaced due to your lack of empathy and self serving actions. I hope you finally get what you are looking for, however, I really hope you get what you deserve.

Composure

I let your touch guide me
Drifting into the same energy 
We find ourselves visiting
Unspoken yet synchronized desires
Folding within and together
We’re falling into unknown territory
But we will deal with the risks
While time remains still

Reminisce

I pick up my mug with both hands, slowly sipping from the lip and letting the steam gently grace the tip of my nose. Hot tea soothes the back of my throat as I place the mug back down on the nightstand next to me. I can’t seem to remember the last time I was able to sleep soundly without the help of chamomile and melatonin. What a privelage it was to come home from class or work, jump into a cotton abyss and soon after fall victim to my own weariness. Now I’m caught in my monotonous nightly routine: dinner, shower, tea, sleep aid, bed, stare at the ceiling for a couple hours, hopefully get more than 4 hours of sleep.

Come to think of it, before this nightmare of a routine began, what was even crossing my mind during those short moments before sleep? In most cases I’m going to assume it was a controversy between which outfit I was going to wear the next day, or possibly who the next bachelor was on my quest to find love. A common and habitually failing adventure of mine, let me add. Gone are the days of blissful romantics and picking out my outfit the night before, that’s for sure.

I can feel his whisper 
behind closed doors.
The harmonic undertones 
pass me by as I wrap 
myself in the smooth melody,
wishing to be the song he hums 
under his breath in 
the midst of darkness.