I say you wouldn’t understand

and you say try me

but see that’s your problem right there:

you think you can.


I’m not saying it’s one way or the other

but you don’t open yourself up to the possibility

that maybe–just maybe–

it’s not that you won’t believe me


I’m locked away and it’s not a cage really 

and it’s not glass either

but you can see me and I can see you 

and I can hear everything you say. 


I can take  you in, 

I can feel you

in ways you’ve never been felt

by anyone before or after this.


I can make you haunt me because we are intimate.  

I know you.

Your mannerisms will become weapons against me

because I don’t miss a single thing

and I will remember the song you sing even after your breath has ceased.  


I might be dead to you but you are always 

alive with me

there with me

in my head

under my skin

running through my veins like a demon

like poison

like sweet venom.  



and it wasn’t love that any of us were promised here–

not love but troubles and pain and hurt 

and it’s not that you wouldn’t understand,

it’s just that these are just the ramblings of a 



About thefreescribbler

My life is one of words. I am a scribbler, whose thoughts are best expressed through adjectives and phrases and punctuation marks. I would not go so far as to call myself a writer, although many would disagree. I’m characterized more by my unfinished works and half-embodied ideas, scraps of stories and parts of poems. Maybe one day I’ll be a writer, but I’m okay with being a scribbler right now. It fits my personality and style, and best expresses my aims. I’m not trying to create some lofty version of literature. I’m just a kid blogging about life. View all posts by thefreescribbler

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