GHOST LOVER by Abby Jean

Sept 17 ’17

I lay beside him.
I feel like a ghost…
I feel invisible.
I know he takes notice of my shell.
But my insides are like, air.
I didn’t feel this way before he came.
I felt very, full.
Solid.
Very vibrant.
Very ready to express.
Ready to entwine passions.

I lay beside him.
I ask about his day.
He nicely hushes me…
Desiring simplistic silence between us.
Absorbing stereo beats and soundwaves.
Longing for straight, peace.
To be in the moment.
Just be here in the present.
Stess free, just be.
Stillness.
In the stillness of the starry a.m.

Clever crickets cricket.
Beyond my window.
They break the silence.
Between the playlists.
Between us.
They soothe the silence.
Soothe both our innates…

I know where he’s coming from.
I understand him completely.
So I bite the bullet for him.
My heart swallows.
Well, gulps.
It’s now sitting silent…
When it wants to burst.
The pressure hurts.
I realized as we lay here.
Just how it hurts.

I just want to know his day.
This is my only time with him.
I want to know his life.
Enhance the in-and-out bond with him.
Be more than physical contact with him.
He’s so fascinating from afar.
Intrigue screams when he’s so near.
I scrape my nails against his window.
I’m so close, and so fucking far…
I feel invisible to him.

He sparks no convo about me.
My feelings.
My brainwaves.
My existence.
He sparks no interest… in knowing me.
Not in the verbal communicative sense at least.
I sense he psychically senses.
Emotionally senses.
Spiritually senses.
Who I am.
He must have at least those senses…
Subconscious or conscious, if he’s here.

He’s just…

Caught up in his own deep thoughts…
I understand.
Caught up in his own deep mind…
I get it.
Caught up in his own…
Web.

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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.

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…

WHEN I SEE HIM by Abby Jean

Mar 29 ’16

When I see him.
With my third eye, my pineal.
In my internal vision.
In the surfacing of the depth of my imagination.
I see him.

When I see him…

Stomach tight.
Sparks running through every microscopic hair on my body.
Emerging high frequencies from my skin, tiny holes of escape.
Heart flapping wings.
Mind drag racing.
Mouth salivating.
Clit pulse, pulsing.
Vagina moistening.

When I see him.

Arms spread wide in the air like a bird.
Goofy smile.
Laughter.
My excitement disintegrates short term memories.
Moments lived mere minutes before my vision.
Emptiness suddenly surrounds me, with the exception of him.
Blurred streaks of colours swirl around me, fighting for my attention.

But when I see him…

Jackson Pollock.
Picasso.
Van Gogh.

When I see him…

Beethoven.
Miles Davis.
Teddy Pendergrass.
Miguel.

When I see him…

“Can you please get me a freight rate?”

My vision dissipates.
Poof! Like a genie wish in reverse.
I look over, facial expression exposing my disgust.
Disappointment in my lost vision.
“Do you fucking mind?”
Thoughts struggle not to manifest into words.

“Ya sure, no problem…” I smile.

I’ll get back to my mind affair later…
When I see him, again.

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