We’re sitting there. 

Just my head on his shoulders, 

just my voice in his ears. 

Sharing everything. Absolutely everything,

as if for the first time my truths can breathe their own air. 

As if for once my shadows don’t seem so dark.

In that instant everything is right, 

and it’s just me and him and our truths

because when we’re this close there is no space for our usual lies,

 no room for doubt between our fingertips. 

Clasped tight; secure. 

No time for despair because all we have is now,

and now is perfect and now is fleeting. 

And now will never be again, so it can’t be wasted. 

And it’s just me and it’s just him and it’s just us. 

Happy. 

Stupidly happy as if we know no sadness 

Because in his arms he can’t hold both, 

and he chooses me over his daily demons and I choose him over giving up. 

I choose him to be happy. 

And so with just my voice in his ears, I tell him everything and smile.

Because now it doesn't seem so bad. The world doesn't seem so angry. 

And for once it’s just the way I want it. 

And he smiles, so I smile and we smile and just this once I know the joy of being heard, 

in this perfect and fleeting time I know what it’s like to be free.

And with time both perfect and fleeting I accept that it will end.

But for now I can smile, as he smiles, because for now it is mine. And I choose it. 

I choose this now.

If I could, I would choose this now forever.

By: WerepupJeremy

I just want to hold him. 

To feel his breath on my neck,

To have his hands in my own. 

I just want to be the pillow that he chooses to hug, 

To be the thought in which he chooses to linger,

just long enough to be that force, great enough to keep him at home, 

In my arms. Just for me.

Just for my eyes and my hands and my warmth 

and just... my time.

I just want to keep him here in my sight, 

away from the lights that sing to his soul,

 that make him wander and lure him into the night. 

Sirens’ calls that sink my heart in seas I dare not know.

Cause if he leaves he won’t return.

I just want to be the flavour,

with which he chooses to drench his lips.

Instead of the bottles that ignite his rage, 

Those full cups that blur his eyes

and make him forget. 

That I’m here and I’m whole and I’m his. 

I just want to be enough. 

The old love that outranks the young night,

A flame that glows greater than any new promise. 

There should be no fight.

I just want to hold him.

But now is not my turn.

By: WerepupJeremy

One day. One random day in some random bar, or maybe in some random club on some random street you just may discover that you hate yourself. You just may discover that you hate more than just your job you don’t want or your clothes that don’t fit. More than just the courses you took in college or the people you dated; those faceless shadows who wasted your time one after the other because somehow they were just never ‘enough’. You may discover that in essence you hate who you are; the decisions you made in the spur of the moment that hurt the only person to ever truly love you, or the lies you told for no reason that left you stranded on some corner because you shunned the ones who cared.

You may find you hate your friends you can’t trust or that guy you just met. That random guy in that random club, who you just gave your number to, knowing that he’ll only call on some other random night at 3am just for that one thing. And you’ll invite him over and give it to him in an effort to not feel alone. But you’ll hate him when he’s done. You’ll even hate him during. You’ll hate him because his touch made you feel like trash. You’ll hate how the memory of his scent sets your skin on fire. You’ll hate his empty words (if he even bothers to say words at all) and you’ll hate his booze plagued breath. You’ll hate his stupid flannel shirt and his too tight navy pants.  

You’ll find you hate your exposed body and your filth-stained soul. You’ll hate that you never asked him to leave. You’ll hate that he did anyway. He left, and you were alone again. You’ll hate that for a second you’ll think you miss him. You’ll hate that even though you don’t, you still sent that text telling him it was ‘fun’ and to come again ‘anytime.’ It wasn’t fun. Forfeiting your pride and abusing your body is never fun; you never want to see him again. You’ll hate that he won’t respond, that He doesn’t want to see you again either. You’ll hate him and the scars he left. The scars you allowed his claws to make, as you guided his hand across the outline you drew yourself. From now on you’ll always hate stupid flannel shirts. And you’ll scoff at all too tight navy pants…. You’ll hate all navy pants so very much.

You’ll discover you hate your ‘shambly’ apartment because it is the metaphor for your life; dirty, defeated, but still holding on if only until it can’t. You’ll discover you hate the cars you don’t have, or that family you’re not a part of. Oh!  You’ll also discover you hate your own family as well, because they must have done something wrong, or not done enough or not done something at all to make you feel like this, to end up like this, living as if you’re half a person living half a life.

You just may discover you hate this sad half-life; you’ll hate its memories that make you cry and its promises that won’t come true. You’ll hate its sunsets and its goodbyes. Especially its goodbyes.  You’ll hate them because you weren’t ready, you weren’t ready at all to say goodbye.  You’ll hate your midnights and your Monday mornings.  You’ll hate them because they feel the same. You’ll hate them  because they never end.  Because they never get brighter, or at least they never feel brighter. Because they can’t.  You’ll hate that you cannot change; that you can’t change the hour, or your words or his mind; especially your words because they were the only thing that were ‘yours’ to begin with.

One day.  One random day in some random bar, or maybe in some random club on some random street you just may discover you hate yourself. And if that day comes I hope you’re not too numb to care.

By: WerepupJeremy