Mislain Affections

I'm lost. I know I'm lost. Worst yet, I've been lost so long, I'm not sure I want to be found.

My heart cries; isolation

I clamp down hard. I tell myself it is biology; the basic animal in me that makes me feel this way. I tell myself, I've evolved beyond this. I don't need a physical relationship with anyone.

Yet, I know I'm lying to myself. It is becoming a physical pain. My heart beats hard, and I feel it echo like an empty hall; a building kept around because it has historic value, but no more does it serve it's original purpose. Gone are the glory days, when it flourished, and gloried in it's own way. All gone, now, an empty shell. Forgotten, and ignored, for all I know.

I hang by a single hope, that I've tied a knot in, and have sustained for moments too long to really remember but short enough I think I can hold on a little longer.

But I'm running out of hope.

I see ways out, but I know, those ways, will probably lead to a hangman's rope. So for now, I cling a little longer, sway in the directionless breeze, and pray someone finds me, who doesn't have a price tag over their shoulder. 

The Girl With The Blood Red Lips

I see her in my dreams. Her subtle seductive smile, from those hypnotic haunting lips.

She stands across the crowded room, in a cafe I recognize,
unable to recall its name, or where it is, or its reality.
She catches me looking, and all thoughts crash to a halt.

I want to run. Away? To Her? Around Her?
She takes a step towards me, her purpose clear,
The face I used to call my own, betrays a smile.

Moments pass, and she is right next to me.
I can smell the sweet perfume, stirred with the subtle tang of her.
Intoxicating; but pales in comparison, to her Blood Red Lips.

I, have not moved at all. I have yet to say a thing.
She breaks the silence, with a whisper, in my ear,

"All the times you've come in here, I always watched you."
"When you left last time, you had an artist girl on your arm,"
"Since then, you, or at least she, has moved on."

A deep breath, another obsessed moment in my mind.

"Tell me your name, and we'll repair to someplace more private."
"Tell me your dreams, and we will share deeper affinity."

Just as I am about to speak, it starts to fade.
 Her soft disappointed sigh,
"Perhaps we will meet in the waking world."
"Until then, remember what you feel in your heart."

A kiss, then her vivid lips, and her subtle smile,
When all else is faint, and dim, I vow to never forget,
The Girl With The Blood Red Lips.

The Doomed and The Damned

You tried to burn the photograph I saw.

I will never forget what I saw, as the flames, consume, that picture.

Got the perfect alibi, and you've got the evidence to back it up.

I know where to dig, and I know if I did, I'd be no happier for it.

Stop. Step Back. Click.

I see another side of your story.

And this side brings to focus more truth than anyone is comfortable admitting.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Slip into another deception, I know you can't hide.

I like to think I used to know you. But that feels like another life now.

Skree.

I see myself in your own conflict. I am you, and you are him. Not enough love to fix what needs fixing.

Indeed, who now is the bigger fool?

Tock. Talk. Tock.

I will never be the same. And I think I am doomed.

But you will never be the same. And I think you are damned.

Why do I think these things? Because I do not trust easily.

Because I'm waiting for the other bomb to drop.

I hate to expect you to loose out to your ill-logic, and sick-mess.

But I can support you for only so long.

Loss of support?

The faster I fall.