O! how the heavens have forgotten to engage me.
It’s been so long since we’ve cried. I remember,
Sitting by the windowsill as a child,
And my sun-starved eyes would echo
Those dusty white flakes in all their splendour, as they lazily tumbled down,
Softly blanketing the ground.
And my mother would sternly warn me; ‘Don’t watch or it will stop!
‘And your snowman will be a puddle, out upon the crop.’
I struggled to tear my eyes away; I strived. I really tried.
But maybe I gazed too long,
Because the snowman I made had died.
Sep 1, 2012
Sep 1, 2012 at 10:12 PM UTC
I am a coward but she'll never know
Because I’ll hide my secrets, I won't bestow
Upon her those feelings I know she'll hate.
I'll keep those feelings in limbo with fate
Like the ones when I’m scared to look in her eyes
for fear of my trespassing where devils daren't tread.
Or the ones where she stares back and sees all the lies
of things I’ve never done and words I’ve never said
Or the ones where I tell her "The World isn't real
How can it be if I cannot feel?
The World isn't numb; you're all just pretend,
Detached from a conscience that I cannot spend."
It confused me then, it confuses me more
When pretend commitment walks through my front door
Through all these years I’ve seemed to withdraw;
But If you make life real then I can't ignore
In your company I can progress.
Now days seem so cold when she's not around
So glad am I! In her I have found
The rest of my life to spend in her glow.
She will Love me because she'll never know.
But who am I kidding? I have no right.
Secrets were made to hasten our plight.
One day, inevitably, she will know all
And down will come Love, Commitment and all.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 11:35 PM UTC
I hardly speak of what I know, instead of what you need to hear,
A silent whisper, a furtive word, I utter into your ear.
I stole the bough of happiness.
I won the chance to change your fate.
And from this trough of scrappiness,
Springs forth the seed of hate.
You hath not strength of mind to speak of love you so desire,
So I’ll make haste and burn the bush, then pluck you from the fire.
I’ve lost that want of happiness.
But the power rests in me,
To send his favour back to you,
And content the heart of thee.
This love you need seems absent now but I’ll take it from the shelf,
I grant this gift of such treasured hoards, I save none for myself.
And thy heart begins to melt.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 11:32 PM UTC
If *** is a weapon, she shoots to ****
She left a scar, there,
Beneath my chest for the thrill.
The pain refuses to abate. And like the throbbing of a toothache,
She numbs my will.
If looks could **** she’d be a weapon
Of mass destruction.
And the hollow she wrought with ease in me,
Betrays her lack of skill.
Now, like a warhead of doomed love, she strikes,
And blasts my cursed will.
Yet I’d have her sent on me still...
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 11:27 PM UTC