Tiny

I hold the world in my hands as they stare to the core within me.
I feel the weight of their souls upon me and I am terrified I will let them down.
Collide into the trenches within my being.
You're the reason I evaporate.
The eyes that judge me are the eyes that destroy me and I cry in shades of discontentment.
Is there another who sees me for me, another who knows the depth of pain I feel?
Another who aches
Another who exists alone
I listen without hearing and speak without talking.
I see you but you don't see me.
I feel you but I don't know you.
My tiny hands follow the lines along your face.
I am content but I am shallow, needing only words of solace.
Permit me to execute
As my heart breaks into pieces
Tiny shades of diligence that remain faithful in my heartaches.

Cupcakes

I miss you as often as the sunsets and think about you even more. If there is a way to exist in this moment, I am content on remaining here. So many times I have never imagined there a greater feeling than this and though we're not together, I find it hard to detach myself from you. It is absurd but it is the only thing I can think about and it drives me mad. Perhaps you're not thinking of me, perhaps you are. She makes you moan. I make you cupcakes.
You are beautiful, completely and whole, and I cannot do anything but think of you.

New beginning or craving an ending?

At this moment I should be happy about the outcome of my life, happy about the choices I have made, happy that I have pieces of the puzzle almost back to normal but instead of happiness, I find myself overcome with insecurity. I haven't even began the new year and I already dread it.
I can't believe I am here, at this moment, because of the same emotions I had last year.
Because of the same longing and the same desire.
I crave to be needed but I never devour it. I always desire from another and another and another until I am no longer sure what I am doing.
I will be okay at figuring this out, at reworking and redoing, but right now my heart is still in a fragile state and every action I do has repercussions for the heart I didn't want.
I need to write every day like I did years, just to clear my mind. I believe I have Writers Block, however, and it may take an enormous effort to get back to where I was.
I will do it though, one day at a time, I will discover whom I am and the purpose of my existence.
-R