Lab coat on
I stand in a cold morgue
Scalpel in one hand
My heart in the other.
Hands tremble
Making the first incision
Cutting through the sweet memories
And stripping it from the bitterness
you left behind
It lays open
Displayed on a silver tray
Tied down by your half truths
And compassionate lies
Held down by the “I love you”
And trapped by your “Don’t go”
A beaten heart
That no longer beats
No longer pumps love
But instead is filled with tears
And regrets
It has lost its color
A vibrant red
was turned into
a Coal-black
As dark as the bruises
You left behind
Yet
Flatlined
And without pulse
I still live
With nothing on my sleeve
And an empty hole
on my chest.
Sep 29, 2018
Sep 29, 2018 at 2:38 PM UTC
She twirls around the room
in a silky blue dress.
As if she were a ballerina
in a wooden music box.
Preforming the melody
inside her heart.
As the bewitching moonlight
shines upon her
making her as bright as the sun.
It reflects on her chestnut hair
that gently caresses her shoulders.
So blinding
but leaving you with the feeling of wanting more.
She smiles so brightly
that it warms the room.
Melting all the walls
you once put up.
As if she were a magician.
As if she could read your mind.
She whispers under her breath
so low that you cant hear.
You try to read her lips.
Cherry colored lips
They mouthed the words
you wanted to hear the most.
But before you could figure out the last word.
You wake up
and realized
It was all just a dream.
Just a beautiful dream.
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 10:49 PM UTC
“Write”
-he says-
So that you may never forget.
Let the footprints
of your path
be the words
you once wrote.
Fill the white sheets
of paper
With rainbow colored
Ink.
Red
for love
Blue
for sorrow
Yellow
for happiness
Write about
The beach you once went to
The stars you see
The future only you can imagine
Write about
Love,
Loss,
HIM.
Write about him.
Write anything.
“Just write”
-he says-
Write so that you may never be forgotten.
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 9:28 PM UTC
At 2 in the morning
Once every year
We sit down in the same wooden table
Drinking our second cup of coffee
Talking about our crazy aunts
and
weird family traditions.
Discussing the government
Or
social problems of our time.
Coming up with revolutionary ideas
that will never leave the room.
We exchange our war stories
And a future apocalypse
that may or may not happen.
We cry
And then
we laugh
But by the time
the clock strikes 3
Our beds shall not remain empty.
So
With droopy eyes
and yawning mouths
We agree to continue
the same conversations
The upcoming year.
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 2:38 AM UTC
I had forgotten...
How sunny it was that day
When I first met you
And you shyly said “Hey”
I had forgotten...
How your face turned red
when you asked me out.
You didn’t care who was watching.
You said it loud and proud.
I had forgotten...
How good the movie was
on our first date.
How much we laughed.
And how much we ate.
I had forgotten...
How warm your hand was.
And how comforting
your hugs were.
I had forgotten...
How beautiful you smiled.
And how you would say
“I Love You” everyday.
I had forgotten...
I simply had forgotten...
How much I loved you.
Even after we parted ways.
I didn’t realize how much
Until you went away.
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 2:14 AM UTC
I’m sorry.
My beautiful stanzas,
For not keeping in touch with you.
Somewhere along the way
I abandoned you.
And never wrote back.
I’m sorry.
My sweet verses
I have not forgotten you.
I have only forgotten the feelings in you.
And my heart can't bear to remember.
I’m sorry.
Meaningless Haikus.
I thought I could make some sense out of you.
But I will always be a few words away
from finishing you.
I’m sorry.
Untitled works.
You are amazing.
But I couldn’t give you what you deserved.
I left you raw.
Unpolished.
Unfinished.
I’m sorry.
That I scroll past you.
That I am to forgetful to finish you.
But to proud to erase you.
I’m sorry.
That while you remain
unfinished and unpublished.
I continue giving birth to
New works and
New ideas.
I will finish you one day.
Not today.
Not now.
But someday.
And until that day,
I’m so sorry.
Mar 27, 2018
Mar 27, 2018 at 10:56 PM UTC
There is an opaque dark blue hoodie,
hiding at the back of my closet.
Covered in metaphoric dust and cobwebs.
It has fluffy cloud-like lint
covering the holes in its pocket.
Short little strings
sticking out from its seam.
It hides behind the bright rainbow
of blouses and dresses.
Deep in the back, away from sight .
Forgotten and unused.
Yet it,
Still smells like that popular perfume I got you.
Still holds the tickets from the last movie we saw in its pockets.
Still has that ketchup stain from when we last ate together.
It is no longer a bright navy blue hoodie.
Its color has faded away.
Ever since that cold November day.
When you left without it and never came back.
Mar 11, 2018
Mar 11, 2018 at 6:44 PM UTC
Inspiration is a mystical creature.
Legend says it has the power to intertwine thoughts.
One after the other.
Magic that makes the words turn into choirs of souls with a common song.
As it takes over ones body and controls every feeling.
It comes when it wants and leaves when it must.
Sneaks into your head.
Invades your thoughts.
Arrives when you least expect it.
In the shower.
While washing the dishes.
Right before going to bed.
Yet is found absent when you need it the most.
Uncontrollable being.
Unpredictable at best.
Always leaving things unfinished.
Never giving me a rest.
Inspiration is a mystical creature.
Yet to be captured.
So if it visits you.
Hold it tight.
Make the best of it.
Before its magic starts slipping away.
Mar 10, 2018
Mar 10, 2018 at 12:19 PM UTC
I am wondering through the dark places of my mind.
Places I don’t allow myself to visit often.
Because once I do.
I will never be able to leave.
Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 9:52 PM UTC
A thin silver string.
Keeping our lives,
tied to one another.
Is slowly beginning to break.
It has become worn out.
Untangling around us.
We realize it is not long enough to keep us together
While we are so apart.
Predictable.
The moment we parted ways.
It was all over.
We knew
there would be a time
When we would reach the breaking point.
Each and everyone of us.
Pulling it in so many directions.
It is thin
It is weak.
It will...
SNAP
What is broken stays broken
There is
No duct tape that can fix it.
No new string to replace it.
No nothing to keep us tied anymore.
If only our relationship wasn’t as fragile as a thin string.
We could have avoided this poem.
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 10:39 PM UTC