I awaken
to sunlight
filtering through
the blinds
and pouring into
the empty
coffee cup
on the nightstand.
I am warm,
but not from
a lover.
The empty space
in my bed
and in my chest
serves as
a reminder
that the warmth
is from the
radiator.
I sometimes wonder,
on mornings
like this,
if there is an
alternate
universe
where you are
the one awake,
watching sunlight
filtering through
the blinds
and filling the
empty coffee cup
on the nightstand,
but not the
empty space
in your bed
or in your chest.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 11:06 PM UTC
Drinking won’t
save you.
And the drugs
never work.
Not even
prescriptions,
therapy,
or *** with
some dead-
eyed ****
Though you
try and try,
sadly, you
never learn:
The next day,
it still hurts like
cigarette burns.
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 11:17 PM UTC
. .
. . . .
I used to
do it everyday.
I pushed it beneath my skin;
I pulled it out like the splinters lodged in my foot
that I got from falling down the wooden staircase.
I thought I was inhaling paradise,
when I was just swallowing
my own destruction.
. . . . . . .
But it made
me feel alive for the
first time in my life. So alive that,
at the time, I couldn't recognize the snare that had
hooked me at the bottom of those decaying stairs.
I refused to see the lie, dragging me
further into the depths
of hollow eyes.
. . . .
. .
.
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 6:48 PM UTC
*We are islands, you and I,
two lonely islands at low tide.*
we are separate, yet, in this sea together
through rain, or shine, or any weather
*I see you across the ocean blue,
and I want to give my love to you.*
i know your shores i'll never reach
but the waves carry my love towards your beach
*You smile in the way that islands do,
and the winds bring your love back to me, too.*
we've learned to be happy sitting here
but the tides are changing fast, i fear
*I can't love you forever, only a moment in time,
because soon we will drown, come high tide.*
forever is a long time anyway
and i'm glad to have known you, if only for a day
*Please, don't be afraid when we sink;
there's less meaning in eternity than in a blink.*
know that i love you as we drown
i promise it's alright that we won't be around
*It's okay, because, one day, everyone's gone.
The ocean waves will continue on...*
i send my love to you once more
and the water rises above our shores
*We were islands, you and me,
two lonely islands drowned in the sea.*
© c.v. & J.E. DuPont
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 11:27 PM UTC
My sorrow has nourished these lands,
where I've sown
the tears of your remains.
It will continue until
the last gasp of air escapes my lungs
in a tomorrow far away.
The dense fog of despair will clear after the winds
carry me to you.
Then, sunlight shall pour through the clouds
and fill the fields
with a splendor that won't be observed
by people who are too busy
living with their minds closed off
and eyelids crusted shut.
In death, they shall join us as limbo roses, wild daisies,
Queen Anne's Lace, living on
in forgotten memories, vibrations, and colors only seen
through the cones of bee eyes.
One day, the glaciers will melt, and humans
will become mere fables
whispered about in the ballads of tidal waves
that eat away at the dust
from the haunted world of yesterday.
Not long from then,
the sun will engulf us, and we shall join the constellations
of a far off planet.
Galaxies will collide, and we'll become lost
between the cross stitches
of unnamed dimensions when time no longer ticks.
Eternity won't remember
our names, but it will have breathed them
for just a moment.
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 10:54 PM UTC
The night fades like cigarette smoke into the fog,
as dawn is brought upon the horizon by loon calls.
Used needles and condoms sit between the rocks.
The waves push plastic bags and empty bottles.
Ghosts of lost dreams are haunting the shoreline.
You're looking at me, while I'm looking for salvation.
Although you're with me, I'm still dying inside.
I blink, hoping for rain instead of the sunlight.
If this is living, I'm not sure I want to be alive.
But you touch my hand and I look at your face,
and somehow your smile brings me far from here.
The colors in your eyes take me somewhere nice.
I wish I could drown there instead of rotting here.
You blink; I wonder if your hell is anything like mine.
Are you wishing you could drown in my eyes,
seeking salvation, hoping for rain instead of sunlight?
I'll never ask, because I know you won't tell.
We don't speak of these things. We only feel them,
and we feel them alone, because that is how we are.
The waters crash against the rocks; you sigh,
and, now, I'm certain, you're as empty as I am.
That sigh says more than your words ever have.
Your mind is more polluted than the murky waters,
twice as grimy as the spaces between the rocks.
The ghosts of your lost dreams are waltzing with mine.
I'll stay here alone, wandering the haunted shoreline
if it means you'll drown somewhere nice in my eyes
instead of rotting in this awful place with me.
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 11:24 PM UTC
It’s that month again where everything’s frozen.
The earth, the air—it’s like time is broken.
I tell myself I just have to make it through one more January.
Then maybe I’ll be okay in the arms of February.
March will soon pass, carrying with it the Spring.
Perhaps the tears of April shall return my wings.
May will twist its roots through the damp earth.
Then June shall arrive and Summer will give birth
to the heat of July and a sky, cloudless blue.
I’ll be thinking of August, the month I first kissed you,
and remembering those years we spent together.
So long, yet so short, but somehow felt like forever.
Again it will be September, the month of your accident.
It was that same Fall, we found out I was pregnant.
Through October, I’ll build nothing but dread.
By the time November comes, I’ll be halfway dead.
December is preparation not for a beginning, but an end.
The cold Winters of January will return once again.
That was the month I lost you and our baby.
Time hasn’t healed me; every day feels like January.
But I promised myself I would make it through.
I must conquer each January. I must continue;
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
Such a tragedy
to be robbed of one's youth
like a plant that has been uprooted
before it blooms.
But there must come a day,
be it soon or late, when our bodies shall
kiss the earth as she welcomes us home
with open arms.
We will all
bloom again, but in a different way,
and our petals shall decorate the graves
of those who return.
It is alright to cry,
because our tears shall water
the fields of the ones we have loved,
for when we die,
we are flowers.
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 9:47 PM UTC
I have evolved
to survive in the blackest depths
where there is no light, no sound.
To survive at the tallest heights
where the air is too thin to breathe.
Yet, I am being crushed by the immense pressure
of the unexplored trenches of my mind.
I am being suffocated by the lack of oxygen
at the sickening peaks of my vacant euphoria.
I have evolved
not to thrive, not to live, but to survive, to exist.
I can't remember the last time I felt human
at the apex or the bottom of my trivial existence.
I don't believe that I ever was, because
humans have evolved to live
on stable grounds below the cliffs.
They have evolved to build the ships
that sail above me while I drift.
I have evolved
only to exist.
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 9:48 PM UTC
To say I thought about you
was an understatement.
My lungs ached with the
sound of your name
pouring out with my breath.
It sounded so lovely paired
with an ampersand and mine.
My heart fell into rhythm
with each syllable that tumbled
from between your lips.
It pounded so longingly
within the walls of my chest.
My nose savored the scent
of you that wafted into
my nostrils when we passed.
You smelled like pine needles,
cigarettes, and the cold.
My eyes locked onto you
and your vibrant red hair as
you walked alone in a crowd.
You always stood out no matter
how many people were there.
My hands would write each
whispered word I had of you
dwelling deep within my mind.
I never had so many words
until the day I met you.
I still think about you, and
that is still an understatement.
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 9:56 PM UTC