You can tell me to stop
You can tell me to breathe
And you can tell me in gets better.
But can you tell me how to stop when the clock will never know a pause or a simple held in breath.
But can you tell me how to breathe when your lungs swallow your throat.
But can you tell me how it will get better when something so permanent is in the form of a clock without a throat.
Nov 8, 2018
Nov 8, 2018 at 10:40 PM UTC
That smile that's often hidden
that kidnaps the butterflies in my stomach,
I adore.
That smile that makes my cheeks
blush to match that color of a rose,
I adore.
That smile that makes me trip on my tongue
and spew out grammarless dialect,
I adore.
That smile that whispers "I am going to marry this girl"
when you first saw me on our first date,
I adore.
That smile that promises me that I am perfect
when my smile is often buried,
I adore.
That smile that showed me how to smile back
in the rawest of wounds I may feel,
I adore.
That smile, which is your smile,
the one I am in love with,
I adore.
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 4:48 PM UTC
I was only 9 years old with a mind that pierced like venom
at the fruit tree of creation.
And I resented that I could see myself in a mocking mirror
when all I wanted was to see the wall directly behind me.
It didn't matter when I wake because I still see the dark my closed eye lids rented to me.
The only good thing about dancing in the dark is not having to see who I am dancing with... but I hate Him.
Shoulders back, teeth flashing, and hair combed...
The mocking days loomed as they leashed me while I sniffed the buried ground because I was jealous of the breathless ********
No! I will walk beside the Hand that bestows me and pretend like I enjoy playing fetch and having my stomach scratched so it can't ignore my Hand made zippers razored onto my skin.
So take me to church and tell me to grease my zippers with holy water so my blood won't sting the next time I drip sins...
And little girls aren't supposed to open the drawer to open their zippers, when instead should be opening the food cabinets.
Father, tell me why my fortitude lives on the same wavelengths that the fallen angel bestows on the weak...
Am I going to hell or is this my hell?
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 4:30 PM UTC
So why do I smile at the glance of your smile?
and why do I smile and have nothing to say
at the littlest of words that drip off your lips?
So why do I smile at the lightening striking glare that rains off your face
and burns my eyes?
So why do I smile at your out dated hair style?
and why do I smile at your words that bleed New York?
Why can't I return these butterflies and settle them back into a cocoon
to where they sat before I met you?
So why am I imprisoning the conversation starters with you
and putting my heart under arrest when I recognize your smell?
Why do I care about your stupid profound sonnets
and your emotionless responses that are secretly pouring out through your silenced mind?
I should probably stop.
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 12:39 AM UTC
I saw your smile and
I began to rise like newborn bubbles
in a freshly opened champaign bottle,
like the kind you see with a couple
intertwined in white lace and a black tie
walking out of a church.
I saw your smile and
I wanted to play those blinding white piano keys
attached to your gums that play
the soundtrack to my summer
harmonizing with the thoughts
playing hide and seek in our heads
as we shared our first kiss.
I saw your smile and
I forgot how to breathe like
when you kidnapped my breath
that was suppose to fill the silence
after we kissed but our stare
was powerful enough to break open
the gates of heaven before
St. peter could even inspect our adolescent hands.
I saw your smile and
I was finally okay with you
whispering her name after your murderous words
"I love you" because I knew
you were now happy since me.
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 1:49 PM UTC
Speak, ******
Your words lace up my veins giving me courage
to fight the shattered glassed wind
that peals me apart,
But your absence of words that propels between your lips
allows that sharpened sigh become wind
that makes my feet miss the ground.
Your silence crucifies the tunnels of my ears
that plead for a satisfaction to my thirst
whineing to be spoon fed with words given in droplets on a sponge.
What happened to the letters bleeding into words,
dictionaries of f'ing words, that dripped
from your mouth that perfectly iluminated me?
Anxious thoughts, a moaning stomach, and slippery hands
do not resonate together to complete a symphony of calm.
So say something,
anything.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 12:26 AM UTC
Silly boy,
that's not me on the other end of your phone line
and that's not how my voice sounds.
Silly boy,
how is that your Christmas tree is decorated when I was not there
and your parents weren't there to catch us
playing catch with our lips?
Silly boy,
that's not my smile tucked away in your eyes
or the scent lingering on your sweat shirt?
Silly boy,
that's not my hand in yours
and that's not my waist your touching.
You silly boy,
that is not my name after your murderous words
"I love you"
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 12:06 AM UTC
I'm too drunk off the air
Rolling out of your mouth
And the space between your lips.
I'm too drunk off the anticipation
My eyes receive as they
Only know the language of
The silence bleeding
From your dried lips.
I'm too drunk off the thoughts
I am making up
In hopes that the words about
To part from your lips,
Will grow me wings.
I'm too drunk off the sigh
Being the only thing
Resurrected from our past together
Out of your lungs
...is that all that is ignited from our past?
So say something...
Before I become an alcoholic
On your stillness
Forever clinging to your
Whiskey scent
Promising me emptiness.
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 12:47 AM UTC
Your words become blades to my skin
And your eyes become the general
To the tears that rebel against
My lashes that beg for mercy.
The look on your face constricts
Around my wrists mocking
The stained blood on my skin
Matching your words that web
Around a grenade waiting
To erupt with my permission.
But my strings lead up
To your fingertips and
My body is limp from
Your unintentional control.
so just walk me to the plank
But wait,
Your step beside mine
Is a worthless beat
So just use your fingertip
To point me in the direction
Of the waiting water
Just foaming with bubbles
To pile up inside my lungs,
One by one
Till the capacity is full
Like the grave of our hearts
Filled with dirt
Buried by the fuming smoke
Of your words
With unlimited gunpowder.
Your smile and your laugh
Do not direct themselves at me
But play hide and seek
With my satisfaction,
So I'll sit at the edge of mountain
Drawn to the dangling light
illuminated by your presence.
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 12:34 AM UTC
The thought of you kissing her
Is something that stitches up
The lining of my stomach
So the butterflies
Will suffocate.
Those butterflies turn to ashes
As I force myself to
Swallow your words
Coated with gasoline
Because you and I both know
That it meets well with the
Fire inside my heart
That burns more and more
To the thought of you...
So lucky me because
That thought is measured
By intervals of infinity.
My stomach will forever
Be barren from those
Goodie butterflies
Because you killed them.
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 12:09 AM UTC