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You're here with me in this moment,

But I see nothing in your eyes, 'cept distance.

I shut them out, retreat to darkness,

And nothing changes, we don't want it.

Here we are,

A place called hell.

Two in bed,

But both alone.

Here I am,

My prison cell.

I know it well,

A place called home.

Your hands say more than your expressions,

I hear nothing in your voice, 'cept distance.

I'm all second glances, and you're all silence,

And nothing changes, I don't want it.

Just started this, not at all finished, obviously...

I’m lying on the floor, running my fingers across the bare skin of my abdomen. The stretch marks are deep and dark, illuminated by the pale sunlight of dusk covered by clouds. My gaze floats to the ceiling and then falls to the other side of the room. Elvis is in the corner playing with a small race car that he found in the sandbox at the park down the street.

Just when I thought I'd given up on fire altogether,

I felt a spark on my lips,

I swallowed, and now I feel it in my stomach,

I feel it running to my fingertips.

You're never here to hold me

I guess I'll hold myself until you can

How long do we have to wait for correct circumstances?

The Nichole Blog (The first one)

You don't understand.

You only ever glimpse understanding of what it's like to see everything.

I see everything.

And you.

You, with your oil black hair, with your muted jade eyes, your ivory skin, your melodic slender body, and your little red dress...

You.

I know you.

You are everything.

Everything about you makes me ill...

I want to be you.

I want to be stunning.

I want poetic similes to flow out of his fingers in my direction.

I want something other than cheap tequila and resentment.

I want your body, your pretty face.

I want your little red dress.

I want to excite him.

I want to entice him.

I want to be mysterious.

I want to be ruthless and evil.

I want that look in his eyes.

I was you.

Once.

Twice.

And I,

I know you.

I know how see him.

I know how you look at him.

I know how you touch him and smile at him.

I know what you want from him.

I know what he is to you.

And I am here,

To kindly tell you,

To fuck off.

You don't deserve him.

Neither of us do.

I don't really know you, Nichole.

I've never met you.

I'm sure you're amazing, or he wouldn't look at you.

But I know you're acting like a little fucking tramp.

I know you're using him.

He wouldn't agree.

But I don't care.

I've done it enough to know it when I see it.

In that way, I know you.

You don't know him.

You don't know what you rejected.

You don't know how much it meant.

You had your chance.

And another.

And another.

If you knew, you would take this one.

But you're fucking clueless.

It's easy to miss, I'll give you that.

He is the master of mysterious.

He is much better than even you.

Probably because he's a little lost.

He doesn't know who he is.

But I do.

I know him.

I took my time, I took too long.

You were mine, but now you're gone.

Now I'm at your mercy, once again.

Could you forgive me, once again?

I've said too much, you'll hear no more.

How can I prove myself without words?

All the faces on earth spark nothing in my heart,

As the fire that rages still at one thought of yours.

Left here in the remains of what should've been,

My head is filled with so much I could regret.

I cannot convince myself that this is the end.

I cannot shake the pictures of the dreams we had.

The First of Many

I look back and realize you were right.

You always did love me more.

And now, here on the other end, I'm at a loss.

I read forgotten promises of forever while you sleep.

Why do I kill the only things that learn to love me?

Maybe his words are truer than I'd like to think.

I am a monster.

This cycle is a vicious ride.

I've been here so many times, it's starting to feel like home.

Surrounded by familiar lies, sins I must learn to own.

How do I live with myself knowing who I am?

How do I abandon the person I have been?