I'm sorry
Every I'm sorry is like a a piece torn from my soul
The vibrancy is dimmed just a little
Every I'm sorry I have to give you
Is giving a piece of me
I didn't want to give
Because I'm sorrys are like your gasoline
They keep you moving
You crave them
You accept them but want more
But you don't know what you're taking
You don't know that you're taking my freedom and locking me in
Because each one puts me in the wrong
Every I'm sorry is an admonition of guilt
For a crime I may not have committed
But it's easier to confess and take the hanging
Than be tortured
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 12:27 PM UTC
It's gone, your touch
I can have it
But I can't
You're like chocolate
And I'm on a diet
No
You're a whole **** cake
They're gone, your lips
I can have them
But I'll have to say no
They're like Jameson
And I'm recovering
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 12:59 AM UTC
Something in the way the moon feels on my skin
The moon
Not the sun
Her light gives no warmth but I feel it
Not in the way you feel sunlight and it's warmth
But the way you feel fairy dust and it's magic
Apr 11, 2017
Apr 11, 2017 at 12:55 AM UTC
Oh, I love love love you
Tragick-ally, forever-ly, romanti-kally,
And I am...STUPID...with desire...
Whoever said that age would bring peace and wisdom
When I gaze into your blue eyes and know the truth of the matter?
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 1:51 AM UTC
There's something about looking at stars that makes me think of everything
Makes me think of you, makes me think of me
I don't really know what it is about looking at stars that does that
Sticky stars on my roof
Stars in the sky
They all bring me to us
I don't know if it's the universe telling me that you're the one it has intended for me
I don't know if it's because we talked about the moon more than our days
I don't if it's because without the stars there'd be no sun
And that's you
You were the sun and I was the moon
And we loved to say it
You were the shine that made me glow
I was the light that lit your night
But why is it universe
That I can stare at your stars and think of my sun
But I can't have him
Is he destined to be a star
My sun
Distant and untouchable
Warm and good
But not meant to be touched held or loved
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 1:49 AM UTC
If misery was a gift
she had Christmas every day.
Her clouds had clouds
and she traded the silver linings
for an overstock of black mold.
She once had been happy,
but peace never challenged her
the way chaos did.
Now, the only thing she loves
is tending her garden of discontent
with **** rakes and spades
for 50 shades of defeat.
If she achieved every goal on her checklist
she kept Einstein’s,
Hawking’s,
and Jesus Christ’s in her pocket
to remind her of the insufficiencies.
She complains that she has no friends
and assures it
with a magnifying glass of faults.
The profile for her perfect man
is rigid. So rigid
that even God didn’t qualify.
If she found a glass half-full
she’d grumble that it wasn’t Cognac Champagne.
She has long since forgotten
the important thing -
the power of light.
For light heals
light brings hope
light always dispels darkness
unless YOU become an eclipse
between it and the world.
[VERSION 2.0]
SHE FORGOT
If misery was a gift
she had Christmas every day.
Paper and bows
she’d wrapped herself,
hand signed cards
To: Me, From: Me
every box opened
then rewrapped
and opened again
with tattered Scotch-tape scars
unsalvageable
like the excitement of a child
who found her hidden presents
in the closet 10 days
before Santa would come.
And clouds! How did you know!?
Gray, snowless,
pointless holidays
hopelessdays
all her days.
Her clouds had clouds
and she had traded the silver linings
for black mold.
They always fit her just right.
She once had been happy
but peace never challenged her
the way chaos did.
So she labors passionately in
a garden of discontent
nurtured year-‘round
but always growing winter
watering resentment and acrimony
with bitterness,
drawn from a barrel full
of moldy cloud rain.
Regardless of what she might achieve
she reminds herself
of others doing more
comparing checklists with Jesus Christ’s.
If she had fed the 5000,
she would still be
lacking the crucifixion.
You see, nothing grows
by accident in a well-kept
garden
including withered friends whom
she weeds, though beautiful
assuring they will never be more.
Those she doesn't pluck, she bakes
under her magnifying glass of faults.
She knows nothing of content
whether love, or God,
or a half-goblet of possibility.
If she found a glass half-full
she’d grumble that it wasn’t Cognac Champagne.
She has long since forgotten
the important thing –
the power of light.
How it heals and grows
hopeful sprouts, green
through struggling soil.
Light always dispels darkness
unless YOU become an eclipse
between it and the world.
When you cast your own
shadow
it’s easy to forget
the way flowers
grow back on their own
every spring
the way the clouds
sometimes break
unexpectedly.
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 12:21 PM UTC
You ask
Do you love me
You mean
Please don’t hurt me
You think
Please don’t leave me
You hope
You’ll be happy
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 3:12 PM UTC
She’s like the full moon
She has her night of brilliance and clarity
Seen and beheld in all her beauty
Bathing the world in her light
Shining on every ocean
Casting dancing shadows over the ground
They dance for her presence
Wolves worship her
Howl for her love
She gives it freely
But she fades
Her round and full face shrinks
Her brilliance dulls and her beauty
It ebbs away
Because time is up
Time is always up
Good always comes to an end
The wolves cry for her
The ocean is without it’s spotlight
The shadows are less energetic
Time has turned their beloved dark
But she knows she is new
And will come again
Her light even more dazzling
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 3:10 PM UTC