#pseudo writes

[pseudomenudo]

Beware falling in love with a writer

For you will become her muse

The pain you cause to her

She will surely use

[pseudomenudo]

I have a Devil on my shoulder

He whispers in my ear

With a wide fanged grin

As his breath hits my neck

I catch the stench of sin

[pseudomenudo]

Fulfillment

I am whole.

I do not need half of another.

I, myself, am complete.

I am not in search of a missing piece.

Or someone to call my home.

I reside within myself, comfortable.

However, if you would like to join me,

As we both enjoy each other’s fullness,

And appreciate our satiated vastness,

I would not oppose.

[pseudomenudo]

Healing with Time

I’m taking my time

Cause I’ve romanticized

Every lyric, every line

Every song, to feel like

I belong, and every poem

Reminds me of you

And all that you do

But I’m taking my time

I’m breathing me in

Exhaling you out

Cause I’ve glamorized

Your laugh, your smile

Your voice in my mind

Has me polarized

But I’m taking my time

I swear I’m taking my time

Scrubbing you off

Of my skin and my lips

Disinfecting these scars

Left from your hands

On my hips

I’m taking me back

The girl I once knew

I’m taking me back

To when I didn’t

Have you.

[pseudomenudo]

Unrequited

My tender words

Are knives that slice

Into the plush of your skin

My honest bouts of desire

Are tainted, painted as lies

In your cautious

Unforgiving eyes

My genuine “I love you’s” fall

On deaf ears, dubious to

The sincerity, the honey-coated

Words on my doting lips

That only wish to kiss

Every inch of your bruised

Skin, laced with cynicism

Scarred by those who

Did not know

How to love you.

[pseudomenudo]

Favorite Color

You and I are

Bleached and stained

Colorless, unpigmented

You’ve ruined it for me

You’ve ruined the color white

For me.

Like the knuckles on my fists

Pounding at the walls, screaming,

“How’d it come to this?”

[pseudomenudo]

I can not say

I do not want

You in my life

But I don’t miss you

As much as I used to.

[pseudomenudo]

Unanswered

I remember being 15

In your pool in your backyard

And having your lithe, delicate fingers

Trace the curves of my hips

Caressing up and down my spine

Wrapping your arms around my stomach

“You’re so pretty, how are you so pretty?”

You were my best friend, the closest person to me

With your long, raven hair and tall frame

I wondered if I liked girls.

Feeling your body pressed up against my back

Your hands traveling up and down freely

I wondered if this was something friends did.

I shivered at your touch, confused at my own reaction

I moved away from you, laughing nervously

Were you disappointed?

You moved on with ease, as you always did

And I wondered if you liked me.

I wondered if you felt the pit of your gut tighten

If you felt lightheaded and warm

Or was this all just something I imagined?

Did I imagine your eyes lingering?

Your constant physical touch

Was it all merely platonic?

Falling silent, preoccupied with my own thoughts

I barely heard you and what you said as we

Swam in your pool that day

What did you say?

Can you say it again?

Our parents didn’t like seeing us together

Did we make them uncomfortable?

Is that why they told us to stop being friends?

Was it obvious to everyone but me?

Answer me, please.

Did you like me?