phil-jones - Hello Poetry

The weather has new record breaks along the beach along the lake I asked for drink and got sunbathed This county's too hot for snow flakes The shoreline sang (maybe) and swept away.

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Jun 2, 2014

Jun 2, 2014 at 10:47 PM UTC

phil-jones

Sunbathed

The weather has new record breaks along the beach along the lake I asked for drink and got sunbathed This county's too hot for snow flakes The shoreline sang (maybe) and swept away.

7

These things are prone to breaking This prose, sickened from drinking in all the things that give you shivers at night I was never the happy secret you wished I was And the purpose of all this was lost at sea when you wished me away. I'll keep our memories two steps ahead of me at all times. They say all nightmares dressed black and white come true It was me and you who crossed our hearts and spoke in sighs.

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Jun 2, 2014

Jun 2, 2014 at 8:05 PM UTC

phil-jones

Untitled

These things are prone to breaking This prose, sickened from drinking in all the things that give you shivers at night I was never the happy secret you wished I was And the purpose of all this was lost at sea when you wished me away. I'll keep our memories two steps ahead of me at all times. They say all nightmares dressed black and white come true It was me and you who crossed our hearts and spoke in sighs.

7

"You are my ocean" You said. Enclosed, unclothe me each chance you get. We played pass with the waves, shore to shore, along the inlet. And yet, as far as it was, you felt my breath up and down your neck. My words whispered through your head, wishing you close. But the tide ran up. And I drowned instead. "Its tough luck, love . Take what you get."

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Jun 2, 2014

Jun 2, 2014 at 3:35 AM UTC

phil-jones

You are my ocean.

"You are my ocean" You said. Enclosed, unclothe me each chance you get. We played pass with the waves, shore to shore, along the inlet. And yet, as far as it was, you felt my breath up and down your neck. My words whispered through your head, wishing you close. But the tide ran up. And I drowned instead. "Its tough luck, love . Take what you get."

9

I walked in and saw you sipping from a whiskey bottle. Your hand clenched round a note that read "not again" There were candles there, cigarettes in the glass you gave up on. And a rope intended to hug your neck There was something in the way you'd look past me when I said "They won't read about you this way" But they would. I'd just never want to read again.

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Jun 2, 2014

Jun 2, 2014 at 3:29 AM UTC

phil-jones

Untitled

I walked in and saw you sipping from a whiskey bottle. Your hand clenched round a note that read "not again" There were candles there, cigarettes in the glass you gave up on. And a rope intended to hug your neck There was something in the way you'd look past me when I said "They won't read about you this way" But they would. I'd just never want to read again.

7

I don't care much for love and such things that go well with red Because my bed is a love gravesite Twisting, cutting, affecting only my love life. So I've been making friends with ghosts who chose to be dead White sheets and streaks of life left But the burials set, and it's time to breath dirt Heavens picket fence or hells stained shirt.

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Jun 2, 2014

Jun 2, 2014 at 3:26 AM UTC

phil-jones

Love gravesite

I don't care much for love and such things that go well with red Because my bed is a love gravesite Twisting, cutting, affecting only my love life. So I've been making friends with ghosts who chose to be dead White sheets and streaks of life left But the burials set, and it's time to breath dirt Heavens picket fence or hells stained shirt.

7

Someone's singing chills through your home Whispers, chitters, cackles and chatters Loved ones, old ones, one hundred beloved's Strangers get stranger, stay longer, get stronger until they're gone. Someone's yelling breaths from your walls And it isn't you or me.

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Jun 2, 2014

Jun 2, 2014 at 3:25 AM UTC

phil-jones

Them

Someone's singing chills through your home Whispers, chitters, cackles and chatters Loved ones, old ones, one hundred beloved's Strangers get stranger, stay longer, get stronger until they're gone. Someone's yelling breaths from your walls And it isn't you or me.

6