Killing Me Not so Softly

Though only a pen touching down to engrave words onto paper,

I imagine you’re evil voodoo ways forcing me to thrust it into my heart.
Jabbing it in as hard as my weak hand can plunge
Then as the last final touch you bewitch me to slowly twist it in a little further
I contemplate whether I’ll die first of ink poison, loss of blood, or a broken heart
My eyes are open and I can see my pen caressing the paper
But I feel the pains in my heart non-the-less
You will not be the best of me 
You can not be the death of me
I focus my thoughts on living breath by breath
Pouring my heart into these words
Believing the ink of my pen to be my blood on this paper

Hand on the door knob

What the hell are you doing with me?

I’m not a time-filler and am not looking for one

I’m not looking for a make-out buddy

I have plenty of other dudes that I could use for that

I’m not a ragdoll

I will not be tossed around for your pleasure

and will not let you get grass stains or mud on my clothes, face, or ego

I will not wait forever for you

I understand your situation, but do you understand mine?

Cuz right now, I’m fed up and just need one answer before I walk

What the hell are you doing with me?

Detour

I somehow missed the turnoff,

For the road I was suppose to take

I need to turn around

But the directions are so opaque

I didn’t pay attention

But I’m definitely on someone else’s road

This one clearly is not mine

I will not make this one my abode

There is no U-turn sign in the distance

So I keep driving straight

I wonder how long I’ll be going

And how I missed the street that led to MY fate

I wasn’t suppose to be single at 30

Or making just a little more than minimum wage

By now I should have the title mommy

I'm telling you, I’m in the wrong book –and turning the wrong page

I’ve accomplished quite a bit tho

And I have kept learning and growing

I can apply it all to my REAL life

When I get to where I’m going

Distance

I keep telling myself

Long distance is only a frame of mind

He may be hours away by car, or days by foot

But he’s only minutes by jet, and inches by some maps

Looking at the grander scheme, the world map has us only a pinky tip’s length apart

Yet why do I feel he’s an eternity away?

Why do I feel like he’s gone forever?

Why does my heart sit on my stomach and cause water to fall from my eyes?

At a pinky length apart he could hold me and calm my sobs

He could warm my body with his

My hair could sway from the breeze of his laughter

I could get chills from the feel of his touch

But he’s NOT that close

He’s days away

And well, to put it frankly

Maps lie.