What Did I Do Wrong?

Was I not pretty enough?

Did my kinks and naps not tickle you fancy?

Did my curves that went on for miles turn you off?

Did my crooked smile that greeted you every morning make you cringe?

Did my essence make you stay away

from the mound between my thighs?

Did my facial features make you walk away?

Was I not happy enough?

Did my emotions drown you out?

Did my sadness push you away?

Did my tears, happy or sad, cause you to choke?

Did my encouragement urge you to seek

your dreams without me by your side?

Did my insecurities scare you?

Was I not loving enough?
Did I not suffocate you with my encouragement?
Did I not tell you to soar?
Did you not feel wanted enough?
Did my honesty leave you with thoughts
of running back to deception?
Did I not support your dreams adequately?
Was I not sexy enough?
Did my normal human habits castrate you?
Did my lumps and bumps meet you with disgust?
Did my hips tell you lies?
Did my above average frame make you long
for skinny models with long hair?
Did my lust for you scare you away?
What did I do wrong?
What did I not do for you?
I gave my all
and now you're gone.

By MistyPrest

I. Heart. Me.

I try to cash in my lovers loans.

'It's time to pay up.

I've loaned you my love, 

the love that was meant for myself.

You see, I thought that you, 

you of all people,

would not take my love for granted.

I had hoped for an even exchange.

I loan you my love and

you loan me some of yours.'

But I needed a lot of yours

because I never kept any of mine for myself.

You'd try to tell me how 

I needed to keep some for me.

But I saw that as an excuse

to give out more.
Finally when you grew weary of my emptiness,
you decided to pack your bags.
It was then and there that I decided 
to cash in on your loans.
You only shook your head,
looking at me with sad eyes. 
I was dumbfounded and in shock.
'Maybe I didn't loan him enough!'
So I ran to the door and opened myself up once more.
I painfully clawed at my chest until
muscle and skin and bone gave way.
I dug my chipped nails into my heart
and handed you half,
bloodied and still beating.
You wouldn't take it.
I couldn't understand, 
why didn't you want it?
If you took it, I knew it would ensure that
you would be back to return it.
'You still don't get it, do you?'
You shook your head and walked out the door.
Left me kneeling, sobbing in a puddle.
Blood mixed with saline.
I felt so empty. 
I had no love left.
I was without a complete heart.
Half  laid nearly lifeless on the floor.
Half sat in my chest,
trying to account for its other half.
The pain it radiated as it called
to its lover.
As days passed,
I drown the withering half-heart
in rum and gin and wine.
It still refused to die.
I didn't want it anymore.
If you didn't want it
and no one else wanted it,
why should I want it?
I burnt it with cigarette butts,
tried to suffocate it with the smoke.
It beat a little slower 
but still was alive.
I fed it all kinds of foods 
only to squeeze every morsel out of it.
It just beat. Beat. Beat.
I stomped on it.
It beat.
I threw it outside in the cold.
It beat.
I poured the saline from eyes on it.
It fucking beat again.
Tired, I picked it up and looked upon it with pity.
Sigh.
I kissed it.
Sigh.
I kissed it and brushed the dirt off.
Amazed. Amazing that it could take all,
ALL that I had done to it.
Running to the sink, I cleaned it off.
The water ran black with tar and mud.
I washed it until the water ran clean.
I placed it back in my chest,
giving its other half rest.
And they beat.

By Mistyprest

Just A Normal Day

My muscles ache from sitting in the same spot for hours. 

Type type typing away at the keyboard. 

The air is a different kind of frigid today.

Your face is still buried deep within the sheets.

I tiptoe and rub your side with expressions of concern.

You shift. You mumble. You're fine.

I tiptoe back out of the freezing room. 

Hours later. Long work day.

You're up. You mumble. Something's wrong.

Internally I recite to myself how I won't do this with you today.

No moodiness. No fighting. No isolation. 

You set the box on the table. It's beautiful.

I notice some writing on it. All it takes is to see it.

The sixteenth letter. 

All of my blood cells rush to my feet.

I feel faint. I feel sick. I feel ...confused.

The silence between us is so loud.

My begging eyes. My screaming tears.

The sadness that crosses your face spoke volumes. 

You want the key to the box. 

I don't want to give it to you.

My heart skips beats. I need a drink. What do I do?

You break the silence. "I need this."

My brain yells "NO!"

"Don't do this!"

"Not now!"

"Not today!"

"I need more time!"

But my lips parted and "Ok, let me find it" slipped out.

I had lead for feet as I went to the safe.

I couldn't hear anything but the cracking of my heart.

The pieces fell to my stomach, dissolving in its acid.
I would kneel before the porcelain gods eventually.
Dig through the contents of my stomach,
hoping to find all the pieces of my heart.

I knelt before the safe, wishing this was a dream.

Wishing you would run in to stop me.

Wishing you wanted to stop me.

Wishing you never asked for the key. 

L-O-V-E

The combination to the safe. 

The key.

The key to the box on the coffee table.

It weighed a million tons but somehow I was able to carry it.

I pleaded. 

"Don't open the box. Please."

The pain in your eyes was all I needed.

You wanted to open the box.

You needed to open the box.

It was inevitable in your eyes. 

You had asked for the key before.

"I will do better. I can be better. Just don't open the box."

You wiped my tears and kissed my cheek.

"It's for the best. You will understand one day."

You traced each letter on the box.

P-A-N-D-O-R-A

Embraced me once more and put the key into the lock. 

Everything went black.

By Mistyprest