The stupidest things I said, I said them to you. I want them to be said, but not heard.

I meant them. There is no denying. But they were not for you, Not to you.

They were, they are my demons, my ugliness, my burden. They are me. And I despise 

them. I despise "me". 

I wince the moment silence is no more. I wince because now you know.Now you 

know "Me". And I break. You can't see it. But there's glass, and heart and pieces. They 

are broken. Two, three, ten million pieces. Impossible to mend. Mosaic of "Me" . 

I don't seek forgiveness. I don't ask for it. I don't believe in it. Sorrys are easy. Sorrys 

are cheap. Sorrys are disposable, forgettable. I need for you never to hear them. I will 

never to speak them, speak of them.

I don't need forgiveness. Penance, that's what I shall have. Penance and burn. Fire and 

uneasiness. Numbness, I pray. I need numbness. My comfort, my known. "Me". 

Feelings are disruptive. Unwelcome. I crave the emptiness, the void. Not to feel, my 

comfort. "Me"

Who I am, what I am. Nothing is always better. No joy, no pain. Numbness. It's better 

that way. Always better.I can walk. No flowers, no sunshine, no rain, no heat. Just walk. 

Asphalt. Steps and tiredness. Steps and infinite. Strength and brokenness. "Me"

Of Emeralds

She likes green. Green eyes. Green sheets, green duvets. Green pillow cases muffle her moans, her ecstasy.

She likes green. She always did. She suspects she always will.

Ocean crystal green, licking the white sand. Ocean green, giver of life. Pools of green. Creators of energy, bodies salty like the ocean green. Bodies intertwined in the infinite.

She likes green. Leaves and trees and grass and smells of Spring and May. The crisp air. The picnics and laughter.

She likes green. Her birthstone, her compass. Purists and theorics will argue with her. Green is not a color. It's the pregnancy of real colors. She doesn't care. So blue is the sky and the Earth from afar. And yellow is her. Yellow is sunshine and brightness and heat. And she adores her. She adores her adoring Summer and joy and children and love. Her body is heat. And she thinks yellow and green are a great combination.

She adores green. Hazel and infinite. And permanent. She wears it. She wears her, her hazel and her glory. She, the one she adores, is her green. She is emerald and precious.

Emerald green. Hazel. And jewel. Her jewel. She screams green. Legs tangled in green. Creating energy and universes and juices and fantasies.

Yeah, she loves green. She always did. For her, to her. For forever and a day.