It's not fair that I wait up all night for you.
I'm not saying that it's your fault;
I'm just saying that it isn't fair.
It's not fair that I got too serious.
I'm not saying that it was my fault;
I'm just saying that it isn't fair.
It's not fair that I'm too stressed to smile.
I'm not saying it's the world's fault;
I'm just saying that it isn't fair.
It isn't fair that I'm writing sad poems at midnight.
I am saying that it's your fault,
but I guess not entirely.
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 2:22 AM UTC
By day the fear defines me;
By night it envelopes me,
Perpetually reaffirming it's hold,
Refusing to release me.
Escape would be the sweetest taste,
more so than this surrender
to which I have become accustomed,
and to which I have not the strength to nullify.
We are given this inadequate kit,
of alternate emotions and yoga poses,
with which to fight the fear,
as though we have a chance.
Yet no matter how tense my anger,
how jubilant my happiness,
or how serene my meditation,
this fear has found a forever host.
From adolescence we are told
that this fear is a human construct.
Oh, the absolute worst kind;
this kind has no solution.
As teenagers we are herded into groups,
and told they are what will ease the fear,
and yet, the same emotions exist in all.
So what then is our option?
Is it to find love?
A kindred spirit whose fear mirrors our own?
I do believe so.
Oh, I do believe so.
As young adults we are told this is wrong.
We should be independent;
searching for love will certainly lead to heartache.
We must just live a little longer with the fear.
In our 30's the advice is more rushed,
as though we really do have timers.
We are now told the time spent afraid,
was time wasted.
What a sick joke,
that we are given false testimonies,
and are bombarded with warnings,
all most surely unsolicited.
I will not listen.
This fear is mine, not yours.
It has been my dearest friend for so long,
but it is now my choice to leave it behind.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 4:51 PM UTC
There is no power in the trinket;
There is no mana,
Nor is there a curse of an ancient.
Still it is prudent to take care of such an item,
If only to appreciate the craftsmanship.
I'm sure the maker would be proud of how well I care for this trinket.
I sometimes do wish there were magic here,
As I roll it through my fingers
"The Remover of Obstacles"
Lord (and trinket) know I have more than a few.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 2:53 AM UTC
Love found is oft the doing of luck
The sum of picked-up pennies
And good deeds stored away for such an occasion
But love can also be found in luck's absence
A karmic apology for years of despair
So how then can we know when to expect it?
Through palms read and stars watched
We are given our timelines
Loose strings along which we bounce around
Praying always to just stand still
Through horoscopes and faulty quizzes
We are told who we will become
Self-fulfilling prophecies at their worst man our love lives' helms
While it is true that love is everywhere
We must not search
We must not turn over a single rock
For then luck and karma are out of a job
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 2:46 AM UTC
I want you so bad
My body shakes as I bite my lip
Running my fingers up my arms as though they're your hands
Stopping when I get to my neck
Imagining that your fingers are the ones brushing my hair back,
I slide them up around my ears,
Reaching my cheeks
As the fingers line my face, they reach my lips, parted just a bit
I'm tempted to kiss them,
Thinking of my desire for yours.
Instead I slide them down my body,
Thinking of a better use for them.
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 12:50 PM UTC
I could've been looking at the sky.
I could've tied my shoe,
Or buttoned my pants.
I could've picked up my phone,
Or made a mug of coffee.
But no, you stole that moment from me.
You mashed my lips against yours,
Tender but firm,
Just the way that girl taught you when you were twelve.
It's not that I mourn those lost moments;
In fact, I'm quite glad about their passing.
Your lips are much better company.
But, what if, what if, there had been a falling star?
And what if now I trip on my laces?
You would now be to blame.
Now, I have a missed call,
And I'm uncaffeinated at work.
It is your fault, your ***** rotten lips.
Was it intentional?
Did your mouth set out to sabotage my day?
Or is my preoccupation with kissing you just the way God made me?
Whatever it is, I think we'd better stop.
This love affair of our lips has become hazardous to my health.
Oh, but that smile of yours.
Your perfect lips folding back to show pearl teeth,
And your eyes, oh, your eyes.
One more kiss won't hurt.
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 7:31 PM UTC
Gloom blooms alongside the iceberg
Winter brings an unwanted harvest
We make a stew with our sad and our cabbage
Hoping to be tided over 'til spring
This passes in a blink
Though I think
I'll sleep for most of it
I'll just skip winter this year
Who decided it would be this way?
At what point did our genes develop the script
That said our happiness was dependent on the sun
That the cold would frost our hearts leaving lives stunned
I feel trapped in these months
Has time slowed down?
Or am I counting seconds as hours
Trading mole hills for towers
It would be better with you here, I think,
Though I know not from experience
My winters have always been lonely
I think you'd just disrupt that tradition
Though with contritions head reared
I will still ask for the experiment
Let me take your coat
Our bodies have warmth enough as two
If I close my eyes, I feel the cold dissipating,
Yes, surely it's spring
With a fire in my belly
I feel my heart thawing
Perhaps this season won't be so bad
Perhaps I'm through with stews of sad
Perhaps, just perhaps, I've found a solution
To ebb my wallowing for good
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 10:00 PM UTC
Weathered and calloused,
Your fingers weave my hair into a braid,
But only so that you would have an excuse,
To steal a moment touching my neck.
Rough and manly,
Your hands stir honey into our tea,
While I watch in only underwear,
Dancing to Santana.
Tense and shaking,
Your hands grab my shoulders,
Pulling me in for a kiss,
Every time as if it's our first.
Cold and clammy,
Your hands hold mine,
If only to keep me still for a moment,
So that you can get a good look.
Small and feeble,
My hands type these words,
As an inadequate thank-you,
For all that yours do.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 4:20 PM UTC
There are words on the tips of my lips
I dance around them
Girl, be nimble
Girl, be quick
Bumble and stumble around the syllables
These words have made a home on the tips of my lips
They seem cozy there,
Blanketed by heys and I miss yous
Reciprocation is their only fear
Or more accurately,
The lack thereof
These words bounce around my mind,
Bopping from lobe to lobe,
They'll soon return to the tips of my lips,
For that is their true home.
Forever more, just on the tips.
Forever more, forever more.
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 10:40 PM UTC
Surely you will call tomorrow
Unless of course you've changed your mind
Unless there was a woman in the airport
The likes of which you've never seen
No, no, surely you will call tomorrow
And if a week goes by, I will not fret
I have worried so much in the past
The worry I've had could fill an ocean
But this time, I will not fret
I do hope you got there safely
And I hope you had fun on the plane
I hope they played your favorite movie
But above all, I hope you got there safely
I'd like it if you brought back a gift
You don't need to spend much money
Even if it's just from the airport
Just a magnet with my name on it
I'd like it if you brought back a gift
I'm anxious for you to see your dad
You're a full grown man with beard and all
It will be like two old friends reconnecting
But I'm still anxious for you to see your dad
I'm sure you will call tomorrow
After all, we've made a pact
Though, the terms were never clear
Just that we'd stay together
So I'm almost sure you will call tomorrow
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 1:52 AM UTC