happiness is sleeping in our bed behind me
caffeine for early hours as i quietly sit
taking in what i never thought ive have
inside im warm
passionately seeped deep
with rich love and emotion
like a kettle left to brew
sweetened like honey
pouring
dripping
from my teacup heart
happy
terrified
terrifyingly happy
reaching this natural state of bliss
companionship predestined
feeling like this
us
we
is everything i've been waiting for
happily terrified
that this love
pure and unfiltered
could be gone as easily as it came
*** left on the counter
momentarily cooling
mistaken as finished
forgotten
could get poured down the drain
empty
nothing left to fill our cups
tea, thought gone
company will look to go home
While cleaning the table
my cup gets knocked off
hitting the floor
shattered
unsure if glue will do
i'll be left to pick up the pieces
trying to fix my teacup heart
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 6:30 PM UTC
Old poems dead and buried
In death the words deteriorated
Into things I no longer recognized
Strange arcane relics
Gateways to past minds
Awaiting to be excavated
By wandering eyes
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 1:47 AM UTC
im un aware sometimes
of just how ****** i can be
not realizing i push you away
arms working as seperate beings from my body
i dont mean to i swear
comments on my physical apperance
my body
my clothes
arm my defenses to have nothing
but a **** you" attitude
when i never should be like that
with you
it makes me quick
bitter
"i dont care"
meant
"what do you want me to do?"
because id do it all
id do anything for you
we've been home hours
in company of silence and small talk
when i should have apologized long ago
but this all just sounds like excuses
for me being the way i am
explanation for how sorry i am
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 1:43 AM UTC
Madagascan Vanilla
seeped in hot water from the new kettle
swirling with honey
staring up at me
steaming asking where my voice has gone
where my apology has gone
its lost among my mind
brewing darker and darker
to bitter to think anymore
lips pursed at re realizations about
me
myself
no matter how much sugar I pour in
sweet is something I'll ever be.
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 1:33 AM UTC
down arrow
down arrow
letters to words to sentences
making thoughts readable
accessible
shareable
to my eyes from strangers minds
from my mind
to clicking keys
to lines to paragraphs
to "posted"
to your eyes
Hello Poetry
from hearts
to screens
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 1:19 AM UTC
there is magic in concrete
if you believe
when you work the surface
flat, in circles,
the float tool buoyant
on a gray puddle
here’s the enchantment:
with fingertips on the handle you can
sense the wet concrete, the mojo
like a sleeping wet bear
solid in mass yet grudgingly liquid
sort of bouncy
as you stroke
pebbles disappear, embedded
the tool is ******* cement
a final thin film, a pretty coat
over guts of gravel and sand
now hose the mixer, shovels, tools,
hose your hands and boots
as the water disappears, so shall you
unless you scratch a name
honor the skilled arms,
the corded legs and vertebral backs
the labor that shaped
this odd stone
sculpted, engineered
implanted with bolts
forgotten
half-buried in dirt
bearing our lives
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 1:11 AM UTC
I ripped out and crumpled up the pages of our unfinished story.
After letting them lay untouched in the dark corner of my closet for months,
I picked them up, dusted the bad memories off, and flattened the wrinkles as much as I could.
It’s time for me to pick up the pen again, and write a new tale with a happy ending
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 1:04 AM UTC
Up come the lights, so the story is set
a woman in peril, a woman in debt
A man with no soul, heart full of greed
leveraging rent, fulfilling his need
No pleas for the babes, no salve for their wounds
to service the dead, in overwrought rooms
God only produces, ever the muse
people and places, most overused
All of the actors, written on page
all of the stars, simply a stage
Sep 30, 2016
Sep 30, 2016 at 4:27 PM UTC
Life's been at a stand still the last few years.
Growing myself wild within.
Content in the idle, while waiting for inspiration again.
So far my twenties has been not being myself
and watching my hair grow back,
while this writers block became what I am.
Nights, to weeks, to months, to years,
spent at a bar filled with normal oddities you find in such a small town.
Hoping to find some conversation, inspiration, something to
make me feel alive again.
idle idle idle
Until
another night came
ready to shoot some pool as usual
when a warm feeling ran down my back
and I looked to meet his gaze.
Him
A moment had never felt so long
so short
so right
so perfect,
and all at once the poetry came again.
Heat
rose cheeks
a mind always symphonic gone silent
at a loss for words
thoughts
like the wind had been knocked out of me.
I drop my eyes
pupils now wide at my shoes
as I finally process a thought,
****
For days, to weeks, to months,
I reprocessed that eye contact to ****
trying not to let my reddening complexion
my dilated eyes
give my wandering mind away,
as words trickled into a flow of conversation.
Shared thoughts, passion, beauty spouting from his lips
kept pouring
and pouring
until my chest was filled to the brim
spilling
I looked at him and thought
" love "
Sep 30, 2016
Sep 30, 2016 at 4:22 PM UTC