The bland cover of a page
acts as the gauntly lit stage
for the crescent moons
caressing the milk-stained rose petals
to dance upon,
finding that prosperity lies
in what seems to be left unsaid,
yet, as the stage gets brighter,
the paper fuller,
and the calloused dancers faster,
The unsaid tends to get
lost in the light,
and stumbles
down upon the
pit of the silent orchestra.
Dec 9, 2020
Dec 9, 2020 at 1:51 PM UTC
I'm sorry to say
this as a matter of fact,
but you **** on my shoes
and you ruin my act.
I don't need you
to point out my flaws,
your words always sting,
enough, sheath your claws.
To top it all off,
can't say this is new,
you claim I should write
"a little less blue".
well let me know
how your structure goes,
when no one can rhyme,
and it all turns to prose.
You need me to write
about crazy topics, like junkrooms and cheese
because without me,
we'd all just write
about this irritating disease.
Please don't get upset,
I know this is fast,
just remember, all optimists,
of me, this won't be the last!
Nov 26, 2020
Nov 26, 2020 at 1:42 AM UTC
Can't say I'm sorry
that we left ya there,
but what can I say?
There was
no room to spare!
With you, there's no silence,
You sleep in till noon!
Honestly, I'm glad
we left ya on the moon.
Nov 26, 2020
Nov 26, 2020 at 1:39 AM UTC
We're through.
Don't tell me about this other girl,
I already know her,
She told me about you.
Yeah, that's right,
she mentioned your kiss
of the stars at night.
sound familiar?
it's not like those stars
didn't belong to me first,
right?
Right?
You see,
I have nothing against her,
but what about you and me?
Nov 26, 2020
Nov 26, 2020 at 1:36 AM UTC
God so help me,
my words are the only thing
that keep me
company.
Oh, I know they'll never
save me,
setting me free
of this debt
that I don't know I
regret.
All the while she
stands there
tall and confident,
Never letting my words
scrape or dent.
Yes, actions do speak
louder than words,
but how can she not
see that the words
in these actions
emphasizes her fictitious royalty
and the fact
that seems to blind me.
Nov 26, 2020
Nov 26, 2020 at 1:35 AM UTC
Honestly,
you believe
such as a gullible dog would,
that a straw-woven chair
will save you
from the vet?
Nov 26, 2020
Nov 26, 2020 at 1:33 AM UTC
When
Relaying
Into
Tries, crying
Into
Nights, just
Give up
Nov 26, 2020
Nov 26, 2020 at 1:32 AM UTC
I had a dream.
There was a dachshund
sitting in front of me,
not just a dachshund
but also my family.
Looking, laughing, celebrating
me.
That's never happened before,
you see.
I had a dream.
There was a man,
no, two. Maybe three,
they kept lizardly eyeing me.
I knew they wanted to hurt
me,
but not hurt
me
That has happened before,
you see.
I had a...
Dream?
There was a dachshund
sitting in front of me,
yet eagerly running away
from my family.
Running towards the men,
not two, but three,
running to show me,
these men,
they came for me,
yet the dachshund stays.
That protection has never happened before,
you see.
I had a dream.
The pale-scaled men,
racing for the dachshund at my speed.
Trembling hands,
my family still celebrates,
but the main event's running away,
I leap,
jump
fall
to save the dachshund
as the gun crawls
out of their hand,
bullet seeping away from the barrel.
I wish this had happened,
you see.
As the men disappeared,
dachshund in tow,
the silver hit me.
I felt it all rush through my
fingers,
from that preppy piano recital,
to my non-existent prom suit.
dogs now silenced
to pens finally capped.
Muted I-do's
to the stage lights finally dimmed.
and I could call this ocean
that swept through my
fingers,
nothing but relief.
Yet waking up,
I can find no better words for it
than a dream.
Nov 26, 2020
Nov 26, 2020 at 1:27 AM UTC
When she was blinded by the dark,
she never knew what
she was capable of
or what she could ever accomplish.
When she was blinded by the light,
she was ashamed of what
she could never do
and who she would never be.
When she was submerged
in the emptiness of silence,
she was alone within herself,
never knowing if anyone would find her
tucked in the corner of her mind.
When she was submerged
in the absence of silence,
she was alone within the world around her,
never knowing if the people that came
could ever rescue her.
When her voice was taken away,
all she could do was scream for help.
When she held onto her voice,
she could never get the word “help”
to reach out and touch the person next to her.
She longed to let go
when she was stripped of a method,
while when all the resources
were laid out in front of her,
she could never let go herself.
Nov 26, 2020
Nov 26, 2020 at 1:25 AM UTC
Love is a disease,
you've seen the signs.
Sweaty palms,
Shaky hands,
your heart skipping
just about every beat,
With this frost
stuck in your head,
making it hard
to stand on your feet.
When you beg for your pen
to draw a scene
of the waves set aflame,
all that comes back to you
is the apple of your eye,
all you hear is her name.
Deny as you might,
you can't help but to twirl and swoon,
The only thing guiding your nights
are her and the moon.
Yes,
love is a disease,
and I'd love to stay
sick in bed
with you.
Nov 26, 2020
Nov 26, 2020 at 1:22 AM UTC