So I closed my eyes and thought,
“you don’t know half the aches in my heart.”
My thoughts are words and my words are here.
• Bee
• Her fingers rested on the keyboard. He waited on the other side. She pressed enter and took his breath away.
miss bee & her words
• Bee
• Her fingers rested on the keyboard. He waited on the other side. She pressed enter and took his breath away.
miss bee & her words
I wish I could leave.
Just leave,
like everybody else.
Because it all just seems so easy,
to go and never look back.
I am sorry,
and so bitter,
but still nothing brings you back.
Can I change anymore that I already have?
Hair short,
my style has evoled,
but still there are persistent parts.
Like the fact that I could still tell it was you,
with all the distance in between,
the back of your head familiar.
Oh dear,
how hard change truly is.
Did you ever notice,
my eyes across crowded rooms,
trying,
always trying to meet yours?
This one,
knows me best.
I suppose.
He smiles nice.
Or maybe the next,
is the best of them all.
Because he helped reach for those books.
Or was it,
when he gave me space,
where I stood.
No,
I think,
Saturday was sweet.
But then again,
so was March 18th.
Boy in the shop,
gave me a second glance.
Don’t get many of those,
That’s for sure.
Wherever you are,
take your time.
I’ve got love saved up for you.
I am comfortable with the closeness I have achived,
knee next to knee from what others can see.
But it is so much more to me.
It is not the question of,
“Do you remember me?”
but instead,
“Will you remember me?”
After all there is to know becomes known.
And all these present things become past petty things.
You’ve kept the bad dreams at bay,
and been a valiant hero for an endless number of days.
I understand the desire,
the need to be of use again.
Now that you are here,
I find,
“Okay,”
to be a present tense.
But you still need to fight those dragons,
just do not forget the one at home.
The one that promised to wait for you,
all through the endless cold.
You are,
like wisps of smoke,
that kiss and caress.
Like the unknown cold
keeping me company,
wrapping itself around me.
I wish constantly for a more endearing kind of love.
The kind,
whose face you can memorize.
The kind whose love you can see.
But for now,
imagination will suffice,
for now he is too much of a dream
to feel between my fingertips.
In so little time,
that it seems barely any has passed,
I have lost myself again.
Except it appears the gaining process has not begun.
What is the matter with me?
I feel no remorse for all of my
fleeting parts.
Maybe given a few more seconds
to add to my day,
I’ll see,
every little hollow nook and
cranny in me.
Then what, I wonder, will I conclude.
That this is just a process to a better me?
And these rumpled sheets hold no magic,
nothing the midnight brought in on sudden impulse.
Just my sleepy head against its sheets,
no whispers of things a soul sometimes needs to hear.
I’m alone in this.
This void is utterly my own.
