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George Jones III Aug 2015
Black and white stills of a  moving picture
Held by a shadow less shadow who resembles my essence.

This shadow is lost of color, lost of a *******

Frozen into a mental hell he is
Burning questions with unreachable, bittersweet answers, nearby

Shall he ever know the truth of his heart's bleeding façade?
Or will this unwelcomed depression, become his dictator?
George Jones III Aug 2015
I am broken. . .
These images of tainted memories
The remembrance of the touch of your skin
The tranquility of the sound of your distinct voice
All burn the progress I have made, trying to forget your betrayal.

The insanity of it all, is still driving me insane.

These scars of your essence seem to still be scabs
That are so easily ripped away to continue my bleeding.

How do I **** the Love I thought was magical?
The Love I believed to be heavenly
You were my soul mate.

Now what shall be?
You'll find yourself in another's arms?
So he shall tell you all the beauty, all the magic, that I once told you?
Was I that useless, that meaningless, to you in the end?

How could my soul not ache?
How could I not be broken?

Because in the end, you must be happy with another man's touch
And I am left here . . . shattered
Trying to pick up the pieces.
George Jones III Aug 2015
Angels run in fright
Hiding their prayers tonight
Salvation nowhere in sight
The Devil rummages through the cosmos
Searching for a blackened order
To desecrate godly might.
Just a short scary idea I dreamed about.
George Jones III Aug 2015
I am your best friend, as you are mine
And we have witnessed each other grow
As well as fall and scurry away into the darkness of our own minds
But there is one thing I fell, oddly, within me
Any moment I look too long into your eyes I feel
Jealousy
Jealously towards the affection I shall never receive from you.
And I feel so guilty for it
Why have I fallen in love with my best friend?
How can  I demolish this feeling?
Because loving you, is something I wish not to do.
George Jones III Aug 2015
Are you my penguin?
Yes. . . this may surely sound odd
But, the beauty of the basis of this question
Is true

You see, these simple little lovely tuxedos
They waddle around the forever winter
All by there lonesome
Until they spot another little tuxedo
Roaming the winter flakes

They fall in love
Rub their icy beaks
Together they are one

They waddle together now
Have little tuxedos of their own
Raise them, then grow old together

Never leaving one another's side

That is the love I feel
That is the curious little emotion I carry for you
I have penguin love for you my dear
I've known it a very long time now

So I ask you, my sweetheart
Are you my forevermore?
Here to stay until we are old and crazy?
Are you my true love?

Are you my penguin love?
George Jones III Aug 2015
I am no saint
I am no white knight in shinning armor
And I am certainly not a perfect lover
But I gave you my everything
Until I was left with an empty shell to call home.
You were my spark; you were my muse
The melody to my heart's radio stations
And within an instant . . . you were gone
Did my unconditional, forgiving, and empathetic love mean nothing?
A storm of tears, pleading you to tell me what I did, to deserve this mistreatment
To justify this misuse, this abuse, of my love.
Yet you stayed silent. . . Quickly stealing my colorful happiness
Turning everything grey; everything meaningless.
Yes, I am no saint, I am not perfection
But I treated you like my Queen, ready to conquer the world
But I guess, you saw me as no more as your peasant
You're pathetic slave.
George Jones III Aug 2015
There is someone who wishes to try
Someone knew
Someone who wants me to give them a shot at my heart
But how can I?
It is not mended; it is still shattered.
This was suppose to be You here with me, not her
So how can I possibly give her what I no longer have?
This is maddening
Please. . . Just leave my mind
So I may find a way to glue together my heart once again
Because I am sick and tired, of still loving you.
George Jones III Aug 2015
These animations that color moving movements
Moments of fractured memories.

The actions that ripple effects through lives I have not seen nor felt
And the feelings buried beneath emotional trauma
Have become what I, regretfully have accepted, as the essence of my soul.

Yet

The destiny of Today belongs to no owner
Today I no slave to the devastations of Yesterday's transgressions
The future of Yesterday belongs in Today's discovery.

And the story of I, an unwritten, unheard, and undiscovered poem
Of a dismal character, hidden within, a narcissistic entity
Is a mirrored image of my soul
That has yet to be dipped in an once of ink.

I know not what these chapters have in store for me
I know not the ending of my poem
But NEVER
From this point forward
Will allow the chapters of Yesterday to curve my pen.

These words are my words, and mine alone.
I am the God of my destiny
I am the Creator of my own fate.
George Jones III Aug 2015
What if I loved you?
Placed a diamond on your finger
Cooked dinner every evening
Red roses, candles, and wine cold
Celebrating two soul mates bonded.
Treated your body like a temple
Never
Not for one single moment
Allowing a cold be between you and I
You
Are my life.

— The End —