Don't you dare
give me that stare
act like you care
You don't have the right to pretend
that in the end
You like me for my hands
As much as you just wanted to fuck me.
So don't hold my hand and talk to me like this
don't try to make me believe in the magic that doesn't exist
that when we were together you felt genuine bliss
like in the vast moments when our hands intertwined
you ever wanted to be mine
or that you'd ever let me define
as anything more than a static rhythm and rhyme
as anything more than a business exchange
or a game
i give you my feelings and you don't feel the same
it's not too late you haven't placed your bet
on how many months it'll take for you to get to my bed
get inside my head
all of the time i wasted for you is over
all of the feelings i hid away
all of the breath you took away
as i waited for you to text me hey
you've made me numb
stand in the line of other guys who've given me some
taken me under angel wings and deceived me
but this time I see
I don't trust your magic arms anymore
your fantastical eyes don't take me hostage anymore
and the emptiness i felt after i was filled with you inside me
never to trust
someone who tries to hold your hands
when they can't hold your words
you're a mastermind magician
you've helped me stop belieivng in the magic
i know magic behind love
and i don't believe in magic anymore
You give me the cleanest air
You give me a push
In the right direction.
'Accept you can't always win.'
You give me unconditional love.
You give me the gift of love
Young and mindless and wonderful.
You're the reason I'm still standing.
The reason I snarl and grumble my way out of bed.
The reason I wake up everyday
You gave me hope before you were even mine.
And my heart so desperately wants to keep you.
You've made my life exciting
You'll always be my soulmate.
My Gentle Dream...
You both make me better.
You make me happy.
You Make Me Whole
And I'll never go a day without thanking God for my boy and my baby. My little pieces of heaven.
Oh, glistening Prince:
We are all so happy you have come (though we may not realize it).
We thank you for your million presents (though we have not opened them).
We know you seek to help us (though we may not want it).
Happy fault and blessed Barrenness,
embed a single snowflake in our hearts.
That we might always hold a dear token of
the transformative power of anguish and death.
Because you alway testify that with new life:
"My cup runneth over".
Upon me the mark of fate
God forgive me for being weak
I cannot bear the weight
Wishing to avoid the battle
To fight the brave fight
Have mercy release my soul
Allow me to seek the light
Do not be hurt or angry
Should no words fall from my lip’s
Leaving my reasons unsaid
Deciding life is too much of a struggle
I chose my coffin instead
This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M Darby
Best known for writing such words it scrawled in many languages inked out of hearts of
Poet’s politician’s clergy investment of mind and soul glided over parchment it would open
Doors of wood hinges were heard to creak when wise words were spoken and angry kings could
No longer hold freedom back after words of truth shined forth with wisdom and would not
Be denied by personnel greed and cruelty the very breath of man was infused in such
Documents that had veracity that was uncommon in nature the heights were noted the
Indignity and stupidity and rigidness that would in slave people was forever snapped no bonds
Could hold after the quill responded to such ignorance pleasantries were subscribed to by
Mortal hand that reached beyond uncertainty and touched divine sensibility it wrote on
Personnel levels in the case of widowhood when the dark curtains of loss were drawn and no
Light shined into the soul of the bereaved in the darkness a sister friend’s face slowly emerged
From the murky dark waters that sorrows flood brought in her embrace and understanding the
Quill wrote of a slow growing power a bridge was constructed over the river of nerve and
Exhausting pangs longing for the beloved that was departed but through this single individual
The stitching of healing began its most needed work through another the sharing of faith and
Trust would create a heart that no longer was held in gloom but pierced the heavenly blue
Where the fair one stood in garments of gleaming white of mist and tranquil portions no longer
Was fate alone in play but joyous music the flute the horn the violin drew a picture of a country
Lane there love was once again completed harmony over arched death itself and it was all
Viewed under the greatest banner men ever knew and it is friendship the telling and knowing of
Tears and a shoulder to cry on it gives way to building blocks that create a different life
Widowhood made agreeable while the wound still remains it is a course changer the injured
Now arises a heroine of quiet silent grace a source of strength a viable counter weight to grief’s
Unbearable character the quill surmounts the littleness in people stories are in abundance that
Show both sides of the issue the abyss that selfishness brings but what heights can be reached
By serving others instead of self weights the quill lifts effortlessly weighty matters the line we
Have come through many slings and arrows fits twists and turns the quill runs before as a lion
Tamer it cracks a whip trouble is quickly vanquished there is writing everywhere the quill will
Guide to so many existing ideas that create formidable answers but with this in play the
Intangible restless pull of something beyond reason that must be recognized and dealt with all
Success and pleasure will melt away as the pull of importance that will not give way most of us
Know the undeniable truth that over all that is said above a greater quill writes in perfect
Accord without error not of fleshly hand but spirit that moved on men to state His wishes and
Commands without this writing no one can know true happiness or fulfillment outside of this
Most extraordinary compelling truth but what record there is of such sadness because of failure
To listen to a love story of tremendous drama all pertaining to the highest highs and the lowest
Lows and of one by love just won’t give up on the ones He holds so dear it comes down to this
Reality it still stands true there is a Hell to shun and a heaven to win through all the swirling
Down through time this great weight rests on us all what we decide will be flames or bliss abide
With him who hates you completely or the one who loved you to the point of dying in agony
You are the only one who can complete the story the quill writes love and mercy sadly so many
Show it has little effect the quill writes on sin is death those who practice it will surely die this is
The second death the lake of fire
finding it harder to recover
from these countless mistakes.
These trembling hands
render all actions unsteady,
as the sky's rhythmic showers
descend hypnotically heavy.
Those bacchanalian nights
were juxtapositional emotion,
poured in guilt and wine
now memory's remotion.
Caught in an intervening space.
I lay on the ground, shivering.
The walls around me are made of stone, they fill up my world.
I cannot see beyond them. Have never seen beyond them.
Instead, I lay in this pit, on the cold ground, with a dark light surrounding me. It is the only light in the Pit.
The light is of the sky that blows snowflakes onto the Earth. Far above, I see this sky and it illuminates this world into a grey haze.
The beauty of it is undeniable. Yet, a snowflake never falls here. There is no white to marvel.
Outside these walls, the snow fills a surrounding forest of white birches and the cold ground.
I have never seen the forest, but it is there.
I lay on the Pit's stone, shivering; dieing.
The whispers of the Demons haunt me. They are the only other voices I know.
They tell me nothing but what is horrible.
But this Pit and the Demons of Darkness are beautiful.
They are my life source and I am theirs.
But the price of this pain is costly.