Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
fruit and honey Sep 2016
__________________

a girl with a mind like a tunnel
somewhere amidst a winding mountain road
quiet and familiar
the tunnel
calm and inviting

as his headlights
approach
from the distance
particles of light
start finding their way inside
the tunnel less dim
with every
heartbeat
until
everything is illuminated within
fractions of a second
his headlights span out
into every corner
and every crevasse
and brings every brushed away memory  
into full view
warmly embracing every hidden secret  
and for a moment
the tunnel becomes
unnaturally bright
          the kind of bright that makes you
          squint your eyes and
          hold your breath and
          dig the tips of your fingers
          into the foam of your steering wheel
          but you don't get afraid because
          your eyes adjust before
          the fear sets in
and when your eyes do adjust
you forget that it's ever been dark at all
and you feel as though this light
can last forever
          but our eyes can only handle
          so much light  

now he's approaching the exit
and his headlights
are reaching out
beyond the arch of the tunnel
far into the thick woods and towards the
mountain tops
as he passes through on his way
to some final destination
and he never even thought to stay

so cherish
the very last seconds
and cherish
every fraction of his
beautiful bright light
before the tunnel
goes dim
and everything is
quiet
and all that is left is a numbed pain
          the kind of pain you feel
          when your pupils
          dilate
          so fast
          they hurt
.
I wrote this poem over six months ago, not long before I met the most loving, cheesing, kick-*** guy, with his bright mind and beautiful soul and I keep thinking... finally. a man who thought to stay.
.
fruit and honey Jan 2015
they say
"in this day and age
sane people don't memorize phone numbers anymore
the times are changing
don't you know?
it'll work out, it just needs time
things change with time
don't you know?"

and believe me, I tried
but I can only give myself to you
so many times
until it begins to feel futile
and unbearable
I'd call your number, thinking
maybe with hearing your voice
I'd be rebuked by reality
but with each call
I was ****** deeper
into the black hole I created
that is you
I never doubted your fidelity
but rather my own
how close I've come
to giving you up
and how often I did
scared to abide for even another second
because your hollow excuses didn't prevent
the pain that shadowed
every cancelled dinner date
every 'I owe you' and
every missed call
I don't know what it was
or where it came from
that awful urge that dialed
when I knew you were asleep
or out of town
but it didn't take long
for the string of words
"you've reached
the voice mailbox of
five five five zero one three eight
please leave your name and message
at the tone
or press pound
for more options"

to be etched into my brain
where the sound of your voice
used to be
it's kinda funny, isn't it?
how I never cared for
the sound of your voice
but I figured
if I heard it enough
I'd get used to it with time
funny how I hardly ever heard it at all
funny how I can't remember it now

I still miss you in my sleep
do you still hear my voice
when I'm not around?
so anxious and excited to post for the first time on hello poetry. I love you all.
fruit and honey Aug 2015
Leaving messages on foggy bathroom mirrors. Leaving lipstick crescents on the rims of tea mugs. Leaving the front door unlocked. Leaving, a lot.
every time she leaves she leaves a trace and it takes my breath away

— The End —