the problem with love

i need a band aid 

maybe for my stretch marks that won’t seem to disappear

or maybe for my heart that seems to be collapsing


i wished upon a shooting star

for my body to bloom 

to be as beautiful as the girl that you think of at night in your room 

because sometimes i don’t think that girl is me


my mind is a psychopath 

but i am not 

i will forever be haunted by my own thoughts 


the clock strikes 2 

the moonlight romanticizes the angels 

that shine like fireflies 

but hides their destruction like volcanoes. 


i can see my reflection in this lava of loneliness

a mysterious mirror dripping 


i am unaware of your intentions 

but i continue to love even when i’m scared

even when my soul bleeds and the remnants of my body evaporates into the clouds 


should i mourn because i’m losing you 

or should i mourn because i’m losing myself


i continue to choke on my words 

because i don’t know how to make you understand

even when you say you’re the most understanding


how do i show you how i’m feeling 

when everytime i speak to you 

it feels like i’m talking to somebody who’s blindfolded


you are my desire

but you are also my enemy

speaking words that sound almost gibberish

maybe even a false prophecy 


your words slowly spill out from your mouth 

like they’re afraid to even escape through your lips

i imagine them being held captive in the prison of your mind

because you fear them crawling out in broad daylight


i yearn for your whispers 

the ones that make me feel true love

where bliss appears and a long lost smile comes out from hiding


i wish your touch wasn’t just seductive

i wish your hands in mine would feel celestial 

but most times it feels unholy


i tell myself i can be your unholy honey 

the type that leaves a sweet but bitter taste 


because i am an addict for your attention

but in a field of flowers i am a dandelion

i still hope you pick me 


i am not a rose 

because roses have thorns 

and thorns mean apologies

and i don’t think i have any of those left 


i’m reminded by my worst memories

and i’ve always apologized for things that weren’t my fault

like being yelled at by an ex 

or for not being pretty enough 

giving him a reason to cheat 


i’d say the two words i’m sorry like it was a prayer in the bible 

yet i don’t ever remember saying amen 

maybe that’s why my apologies never meant a damn thing


there’s rain that pours every night from my eye-lids

some call them tears

but under my sheets they’re frozen 

cold and secretive

some mornings the rain drizzles down my cheeks and that’s my breakfast

other mornings i don’t eat because i can’t seem to 


i exhale and it’s like my body loses a few pounds

it’s a frequent thing 

being called skinny


my porcelain body 

never resembled to gold or beauty 


i wear expensive clothes but that doesn’t make me of value

it doesn’t make me worthy 


there’s a soundtrack that plays in my mind 

it’s more like a broken record

possibly the broken voice in my head 


i’m trying to be what they want me to be 

 a rose with pink petals 


i want to be showered with beauty 

and love and purpose

but i am merely a forgettable individual 

and nobody truly ever 


– j.ds


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s