shelby-meyers
American
My poems are really more just random rantings. I'm not the type of person who spends hours, days, weeks, on a poem, it just kinda flows out-fix some typoes-done. Posting them on here just helps me feel better. Feel free to critique, as I am always looking for ways to help them flow (:
I'm not ready for this.
And to think,
You just stopped crossing my mind everyday.
To think,
That the prospect of seeing you no longer brought me pain.
My false hopes had faded;
You were in my heart and gone.
But now you're back.
What gives you the right?
Your apologies,
Much appreciated.
Your challenges,
Reigniting that fire.
Just please tell me.
Shall I turn you away?
Harden my heart and reinforce my armor?
Or shall I take that gamble again?
Risk everything and let you back in?
How much am I willing to lose?
How much can one gamble when there's nothing to?
May 19, 2011
May 19, 2011 at 9:30 PM UTC
And though I feel freer now,
There's an emptiness too,
And, oh, how I wish my mind,
Would stop turning to you.
Left here with head and regrets,
Lacking heart and anger and disrespect.
unable to do anything but think,
That you're now what I'm missing.
Mar 7, 2011
Mar 7, 2011 at 7:21 PM UTC
Well, you're my favorite bird when you sing,
but that song is so seldom sung.
The effort to attain not worth the tune,
this love not worth my everything.
Mar 7, 2011
Mar 7, 2011 at 3:52 PM UTC
Living that life of yours,
Built on split-second decisions,
Intuition alone. You make my
Head spin, whirling dervishes,
Never stopping, never slowing.
Worry to happiness to love,
But no, always love. Never
Flickering nor wavering in
The face of your cold-shoulder.
Never, never.
Dec 11, 2010
Dec 11, 2010 at 8:05 PM UTC
Trapped, pent up frustration.
Block, and then release.
Pull on the reins, ease on the tension.
Back and forth, over and over.
Restlessness, to contentment, and back.
Funneled to but one, cramped outlet.
What shall I do?
Stick it out, wait around?
Turn tail, flee, never return?
Dec 11, 2010
Dec 11, 2010 at 8:02 PM UTC