GOING IN by Abby Jean

Sept 10 ’17
Hot damn, shit… The look in his eyes…
He shoots me straight up, past the skies.

Looks at me with such excitement.
Looks at me with such fucking interest.

We’re looking a lil opposite in style.
We’re looking very similar in brainwaves.

My belly tightens.
I feel that frighten.

Scared to fall in Love again.
Fall and be fooled again.

Fool in Love.
My most popular role.

I think he’s different.
Signs pointing me in his direction.

I’m watching them.
Studying them.

Watching him.
Studying him.

Jumping over the hesitation now.
I’m going in.

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TENFOLD by Abby Jean

09-05-17
To keep it real and honest…
It was his friend that drew me in.
Height gives me excite.
But then I looked into his eyes.
Got sucked deep inside.
Magnetized.

Who the fuck is this….?

Suddenly I see nothing else around me.
Blurred, blanked out… even his (sexy) body.
Not my mind however…
My mind now kicked into overdrive.
Quickly processing rapidly increasing energies.
Creating synergies.

Words I’d normally be swallowing.
Flying loose, like wild wallowing.
My conscious asking my subconscious again.
Who the fuck is this….?
Please don’t let me hear anymore.
I’ll be begging for more on the floor.

His mind so intriguing.
His spirit so I’m needing.
His intenseness humbly protruding.
Seeping secrets of his intricacies.
His body, fuck.
We won’t go there…

Knowing full well he can’t stay.
Knowing full well he’s flying away.
To my dismay…
Got me praying that one day,
I relive this soulmate moment with him.
Tenfold.

FAMILIAR STRANGER by Abby Jean

Aug 28 ’17
I feel like I haven’t written him a poem in awhile.
I feel like that because I haven’t.
I think of him all the time.
I’ve taken the time in between times..
To let him know.
He knows already.
I feel it when I see him.
He sees me too.
I feel like… I don’t have to explain.
Like… I can express anything to him.
He might crank his neck sideways to understand.
He might have to take my words as takeout.
Eat them later.
But he never looks at me crooked.
He knows.
He knows where I come from.
The level of comfort…..
The level of comfort that places me in…….
Exhale.
I think of him all the time.
The strange thing is.
I never see him as my boyfriend.
In my visions.
I somehow see him as… like… a twin.
The flame style.
I see him as… a reflection.
I’m repeating myself I know.
Repeating when I hate repetition.
But it’s a next-level felt, this thing.
I study it.
Study the frequency between us.
Study the reason I need us.
I haven’t written him a poem in awhile.
I’m gonna send this one.

PHANTOM ACT by Abby Jean

Aug 28 ’17
It hurts me deep when he doesn’t write.
When he intentionally puts himself out of site.
Out of my sight.
Last text received was Saturday night.
I even saw him in my dream.
Twice that night.
Felt him, smelt him, kissed him there.
Only shadows left come Sunday.
A few streaks of light.
Even with my sweet somethings.
His reply stays blank with no nothings.
Makes me wonder.
Makes my heart wander.
What a strange character.
Connect deep daily then disappear.
Perhaps a wizard.
A magician.
A warlock.
Perhaps a human with a warm heart.
That flips quick to cold.
Had me interested in an answer for awhile.
But repetition bores the fuck outta me.
My inner child.
My imaginative mind.
My empathic soul.
I need all or nothing.
In-between is equivalent to limbo.
I only bend so far before I topple.
Or stand up and push back.
Push that shit off of me.
Stand up straight.
That’s what’s happening now.
I’m standing straight.
It’s too late…

UNSTABLE by Abby Jean

07-04-17
I switch quick.
Don’t fuck with me bitch.
Don’t fuck with me, almost asshole.
Don’t leave me lonely.
Inevitably you’ll come back to no me.
Don’t leave me hangin’.
My fuckboy I’ll be rebangin’.
Dangerous.
I’m dangerous when left alone.
In thought alone in the comfort of my home.
Thought that skips to impulse.
Compulsive impulsive behaviour.
What’s wrong with me.
I get mad and frustrated.
I stare in the mirror at the image that appears.
Ouch.
My heart.
I feel it in my heart.
Like a caving into the dark.
Centre of my chest contracting.
As it caves it hurts.
I want to Love so bad.
And have the Love returned.
And have the care returned.
The comfort of knowingness returned.
Build.
I wanna build a foundation.
Get to know someone in depth.
In the secrets and depths of their soul.
Their being, their existence.
Anger so suddenly sadness…
I stare in my pupils.
Whisper gently, “I Love you.”
I say it again.
“I Love you.”
The rush gets me high.
Tingles up and down my spine, I Love it.
Gimme that euphoric rush.
That addictive feeling.
Ahhhhhh….
Love.
Let me bask in it, immerse in it.
Make light of the worst of it.
Dearest Love frequency.
Please, just stabilize me.

PURITY by Abby Jean

June 27, 2017
Pure.
Purity.
He’s so pure to me.
So pure when compared to me.
So pure when up against me.

I feel I’m the tainted one.
I know I’ve always been tainted.
But the ones I’ve dated are more tainted than me.
In plain sight it’s plain to see the script’s flipped.
He’s more pure than me.

Makes me self-conscious.
I start losing my confidence.
What if he thinks… I’m too crazy.
Vertigo, headrush, vision becomes hazy.
My everything dizzy in a daze of crazy.

My chest starts squeezing.
My lungs start queezing.
No, don’t worry, no sneezing.
Thoughts of him not liking me.
Turns my stomach.

He came to see me yesterday.
Picked me up from work.
Like a generous, thoughtful, sweet husband…
Taking, making the time between work.
He moves me to levels inconceivable.

He drove across states to see me, I’m mesmerized.
States, across borders, into provinces…
Exhale.
Who does that for me besides he?
Who’s so willing… wild… passionate?

Pure.
Purity.
He’s so pure to me.

How precious.
How precious is he.
He’s so fucking precious.
I feel bursting from my seams!
My internals beam!

Makes me suspicious.
Suspicion makes me feel twisted.
For to suspect the innocent…
To suspect the pure…
Is pure atrocious.

So I sit in dismay instead.
While my head spins around in my head.
Waiting… not sure waiting for what.
Calming… letting go to the Universe.
Trusting… to see what returns.

LONE WOLF by Abby Jean

06-27-17
He said, “I’d rather be left in the dark, than caught in the sun.”
He’d rather be left in the dark, than caught in the sun.
So deep.
Deep diving…
I’d rather deep dive in his mind.
I wanna deep dive in his mind – Badly.
Deeply bad.
Fuck.
So complex.
So intricate.
So introvert and mysterious.
I want it.
I want in.
I want in it soooo fucking bad.
You haven’t a clue.
I can’t put this want in words.
Deep dive in his mind.
A fairytale come true.
A moonlight dream, come true.
I message him sweet somethings.
Here and there.
“Good Morning…”
“Have a splendid day…”
“Blessings…”
They wreak of cheese, and I send them.
I want to pour sweetness from his crown down.
Like syrup, like honey oozing thick.
Enough sweetness to cover his everything.
I have it.
I have it in me, dormant.
I’d say patiently waiting, but I don’t think there’s any end to this wait.
This wait is nothing but weight.
Well it’s more, but, ya know…
This weight teaches me things about myself.
Through torment.
By not dropping to rock bottom.
Or rocketing straight out a volcano.
My response to dismay teaches me.
I thank him for that.
He doesn’t know it.
But I thank him for that.
I text him “Come fuck me”, well basically.
The words I choose are more clever though.
At least I think so.
So as to not bore him.
I’m not a basic bitch.
So as to have him know his complex mind relates to mine.
I think too much, perhaps you’re thinking.
Well guess what, I do.
Thinking is vital after feeling what I feel.
Thinking is my only hope.
My only chance to create a silver lining.
Wonder is everything to me.
I text him “Slither hither…”
He knows what it means.
But does he? Do I?
He has me confused.
He even spots my confusion.
He calls it out, between the lines.
He still can’t do anything about it.
Can’t… doesn’t… won’t…
I like to stick with can’t, feels better.
I understand, as I swallow it down.
It being every complexity of this… relationship.
Calm down, not boyfriend girlfriend.
That would be out of this world, cosmic.
I’m referring to this earthly human to human “relationship”.
Soul to soul, ya know.
I message him, “Come to my chamber.”
Insinuating Love making.
True.
I want it.
I want him.
Mmmm… I want what he gives.
But it’s because that’s my only chance of anything.
Behind my insinuating words however, there’s a whole other level.
I’m really just pushing persuasion to reel him in.
So I can study him.
Spend a little time with him.
To satisfy my relentless desire.
To know him.