It's me

I.M.C. 21. Canada. 

[writingfromimc]

No no no darling that won’t do

He took the gun and grabbed my hand

Let me show you how to die

[writingfromimc]

.caliber

there are times

when nooses 

and blades won't do:

a job

for a .22

probably

a .44

for

the smoking hole

where my life spills

as wine

sour

to douse the hot iron

at this ungodly hhour.

[writingfromimc]

Light leaked out  

from the hole in the roof

and I said

Darling, do you know you're killing the stars?

And you said

Love, they're already dead.

[writingfromimc]

You always said I need to get up.

go do something. be something.

I've been in bed for a winter and it's spring and

look at the time.

You said I need to get up  but you're stuck in the ground while I'm lying here cold and I have to say it. 

please come back.

When did my bed become a single, instead of double? Why is it that when they make beds,  that they make a king and queen separate?

And why is it that when they bury kings and queens

they bury them 

exactly the same way.

[writingfromimc]

You told me you were scared

and i've thought about it and

I'm scared too because

I'd love for this to last

but the problem is I want to go fast

and it may be my body saying yes

but my mind says yes too,

my toes to my fingertips say yes because

i just can't stand the fact

that you're so wonderful and

I like you a lot.

And if you catch me looking at you, I hope you don't think I'm creepy

but it's just the way you smirk and

the way you tilt your lips when you're with

me

and the way you look at me;

the way you look

at 

me

it makes me so scared

because if i were you

i wouldn't want me

and I'm scared to say that

and

that you've made me the happiest

I've been in a long time.

[writingfromimc]

[writingfromimc]

[writingfromimc]

[writingfromimc]

I've always wondered

why it's so hard to say the things I want

when it's so easy to say the things I don't.

[writingfromimc]

It wasn't flowers, That made me call this home, But the strands of hair You left planted On the soft, dark leather, And woolen covers. But like flowers in frost, The hair was dead, And Burning them Was still No match for Your cold.

[writingfromimc]

don't think

that just because the sun

is bright

that

it can't 

be black

[writingfromimc]

it's been hard lately

real hard

[writingfromimc]

You always knew the answer didn't you?

It wasn't sugar that sweetened

the coffee.

[writingfromimc]

Did you think I'd miss you?

[writingfromimc]

It was a storm when I saw you. You buried thunder deep within my chest. It rumbled, broke ribs, and left me drowning for air.

[writingfromimc]

Days

There are days. Then, there are 

days.

It's a hard feeling to describe.   I guess it’s the kind of feeling on those days, where it just gets to you.

Makes you want to crawl up in a hole, shut your eyes, your ears and just die.   Especially at night or early morning depending on how you look at it. 

The early AM just loves a broken 

s               o              u                       l.  

It loves to tease you with thoughts.  Thoughts on what

could have, should have, on when, why, how. 

Sleep escapes you.  She runs free while you stagnate, stuck in the sand of your own stooling thoughts.  And you’ll never be with 

her.

It’s always back to

her isn’t it? To

him? To

them? To

could have, should have, when, why, how? To memories of flying-hearts on park benches, side-by-side. 

With hands tied, coupled, glued, stuck. 

Unbreakable.

[writingfromimc]

I hated you because you were everything

and

I wasn't.