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victoria-5
victoria-5
American curiouser and curiouser...
This is me, Apologizing. Saying sorry For whatever it Is I have done To you, Whatever small Things I’ve forgotten Or the attempts That have failed. I’m sorry. I’m sorry our Friendship Couldn’t last, I’m sorry for Everything I’ve done to Ruin It, and I’m sorry for All the things I couldn’t do And all the things I could. I’m sorry For flitting In and out of Your life, All the coming And going, Never staying Still, Never learning. I’m sorry. Someday, I pray, That you’ll See me from Afar, or think Of me due to Some offhanded Comment or Experiencing Nostalgia, And I pray That you’ll Think back on Our friendship And the times We had and Think She once was my very best friend. How different my life is because of her. And you’ll Keep thinking And thinking, And I pray you Decide that It wasn’t so Bad, Me changing your life. I want to keep Everything flowing From me in such Stupid honesty, But the kindness And apologies Stop there. I can’t say I miss you, I can’t say That I’m so Mournful of Your leaving, Of you moving On and Replacing Me. Because I’m not. I’m not sorry for that. I’m not sorry For your silent Judgments of me That I’m sure You thought Were well-hidden. I’m not sorry For watching you Turn from God Himself, and Letting me crumble. I’m not sorry I say. You’d never been there for me, And all I did was listen to you. The world fell, piece by piece, Around me, and all you saw Was your selfish reflection. I’m not sorry. You never could See me. You just saw A jester and A confidence-booster. Never a person, Never the feelings, Never me. Just the jester.
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Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 12:48 PM UTC
just the jester
This is me, Apologizing. Saying sorry For whatever it Is I have done To you, Whatever small Things I’ve forgotten Or the attempts That have failed. I’m sorry. I’m sorry our Friendship Couldn’t last, I’m sorry for Everything I’ve done to Ruin It, and I’m sorry for All the things I couldn’t do And all the things I could. I’m sorry For flitting In and out of Your life, All the coming And going, Never staying Still, Never learning. I’m sorry. Someday, I pray, That you’ll See me from Afar, or think Of me due to Some offhanded Comment or Experiencing Nostalgia, And I pray That you’ll Think back on Our friendship And the times We had and Think She once was my very best friend. How different my life is because of her. And you’ll Keep thinking And thinking, And I pray you Decide that It wasn’t so Bad, Me changing your life. I want to keep Everything flowing From me in such Stupid honesty, But the kindness And apologies Stop there. I can’t say I miss you, I can’t say That I’m so Mournful of Your leaving, Of you moving On and Replacing Me. Because I’m not. I’m not sorry for that. I’m not sorry For your silent Judgments of me That I’m sure You thought Were well-hidden. I’m not sorry For watching you Turn from God Himself, and Letting me crumble. I’m not sorry I say. You’d never been there for me, And all I did was listen to you. The world fell, piece by piece, Around me, and all you saw Was your selfish reflection. I’m not sorry. You never could See me. You just saw A jester and A confidence-booster. Never a person, Never the feelings, Never me. Just the jester.
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I need another Moment. More time In that beat-up Car, Blasting 30 Seconds to Mars’ “Kings and Queens” With you. One moment, Screaming at the Height of our Lungs, Following the words, Feeling the music. Shout-screaming All the lyrics out The windows in The cool, cool Night, Hoping for the Flashing of Crimson and Blue, Bright blue. Daring them To take us Down. I need another Moment. More time In that old, Tan Grand Prix, Frozen in the Worn leather Seats, Embracing “Kings and queens Of fortune”, Being “the victims Of ourselves”. One moment, Cruising with all The windows Down, with the Dusty skylight Open, Feeling the coolness Of the night Steal into the car, Seeping into our Favorite pairs Of jeans, Stopping the tears On our cheeks In their places. I need a Moment. One more Time. I need another Moment, All of us, In that car Together again, Separately feeling The barren hope Of being. Five of us, Crammed into That little Compact car, Experiencing The magic of Music, Flowing through Us all as we Felt so alone, Being all Pressed against Each other, Our jeans And cut-off shorts Threading together As our bones Rubbed and poked Through our skins. I need one More moment, Just one. All of us, In that car Together, Being. Existing. Just that. Just.
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Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 4:08 AM UTC
Just A Moment
Tick. Tick. Tock. The clock Is running, And I’m Holding still. Waiting. Time is Passing, Time that will Never again Return. I grow old. My soul Grows weary, And I wonder Of things I missed. I live alone. My world consists Of things and people That do not exist. Everything that Has conspired Has been for The good of Myself, no one Else, and Everything is To my satisfaction. It is dimly lit, My chambers. I clamber into Bed and see Nothing. The world is Grim, and the World is cold. But isn’t the Expected the Greatest of Satisfactions? I leave the Living before I am dead. Now, I See, and it Is only due To my inability To look. Now, I see People, instead Of looking for Faults. I find them anyway. Now, I see Ideas, instead of Looking for Objectives. I uncover them anyway. Now, I see Emotion, instead Of looking for Fakeness. I expose it anyway. And here I thought the World I lived In was better. Foolish me.
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Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 2:51 PM UTC
Time Passes
Light filters through our dusty screens And scatters particles on your sleeping form, Peacefully unaware and running about In your dreamworld. I listen to your steady breathing, matching Mine in rhythm as I let my fingers Dance across your flushed cheeks, Red splotches on a pale canvas. I place a kiss upon your forehead, And you mumble something in your Sleepy stupor, not quite sure What place to be awake in. My limbs are getting stiff, Stuck in one position for too Long, but I don’t want to wake you; Not yet. I take a risk, shifting my body To find a more comfortable spot Next to yours. Moving slowly, our skin sticks Together like a mild adhesive And you shift as well. In that place, not quite awake And not quite asleep, Your arms wrap around Me and your lips catch a kiss. Whispers occur. I whisper “I love you”; The sheets talk to one Another around our skins; The traffic outside our window, Down on the street below, Shouts muffled obscenities In the small hours of our morning; The clocks and the clicking fridge Cackle in the kitchen, and the Drip-drip-dripping of the coffee *** Begins a bittersweet smell. But all I see, all I think is “Oh darling, how I love you so” As your breath catches for just One second, and your blue eyes Creak open, see me, and the sun Dances across your face in the Most beautiful smile. That, my dearest, is the reason to get up in the morning.
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Oct 6, 2012
Oct 6, 2012 at 10:12 PM UTC
Whispers
The heaviness of life is suffocating. It’s choking me with its high airs, Denying me breath and life. Worry is drowning me. It’s pressing against my lungs, Forcing out the air, Stealing my breath. It’s weighing me down, Pulling me under, Grasping at my ankles And wrenching my heart. It holds out its hand to help, Reminding me of those I love, But shying away at the last second, Watching my head sink beneath the waves. Music is choking me. It’s on fire, and the flames engulf my body. Tendrils of smoke caress my throat, Softly, like a lover, then coil more tightly As I cough and wheeze. It stands before me, mocking, Staring as I fall to the floor among the coals. It laughs like a deep, roaring thing in my ears, Pouring into my head and into my soul. Madness is strangling me. It’s wrapping its cold fingers Around my throat, Squeezing the life from me. It’s cold and callous, Cackling like a deranged person As the fingers tighten And leave bruises upon my skin. Life is suffocating me, Weighing me down, Pulling me under, Stealing my breath, Grasping my ankles, Engulfing my body. Laughing. Mocking. Lying.
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Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 3:36 PM UTC
The Death of Life
We’ve fallen apart, You and I. Just the ‘us‘. I’m still okay; Are you? I called you out. I was exhausted From your words, Your irritating way Of getting all attention By asking for none. It worked for you. Not me. I hated you, Secretly. It grew in my Chest with everyday Passing, while I pasted on a smile And lied with my Face straight, and You never guessed A thing. All the while the Hate grew in my Chest, secretly. I spoke in my calm Words; I was nearly Poetic with my Choices. I gave You reasons, I gave you chances. Millions. You blew them all. Just like that guy. That was why I Hated you. You lost all Sense of morality, And soon your Clothing showed It; your music did, Your personality Died. It was only ever defined By guys anyway. You died to me Long ago. I was at the funeral, Looking, just Observing like Always. Where were you? I waited, I watched. You never showed. I always thought People attended Their own funerals… At least Metaphorically. But you weren’t there At all. Just the person You once were. The new one Was Somewhere Else Entirely. Could you ask To switch Places? Because I Liked the old One Better.
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Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 10:38 PM UTC
Thoughts on a Friend Lost
The smell of you Lingers, even though You are gone. The softness of Your voice, Embedded in my ears, The tenderness of your Touch remains on my Skin, even though you Are gone. It has been but minutes, And already I miss You with burning intensity. Tears tug at the corners Of my eyes, and as I attempt to blink them Away, I remember The feel of your hand On my cheek, A light caress- An enduring farewell From each of your fingers. I take my walk when the Wind cuts into my Side, slicing through My clothes, and as I Feel utterly exposed, I remember your embrace, A lingering closeness of you; An enrapturing embrace Filling me with warmth- This I remember as The cold wind threatens To capture my soul. Silence meets every corner Of my house, and as I Stave off misery, I remember your voice In my ear, a Comforting whisper Filled with as much Longing as my own Heart- an everlasting Reassurance that You care for me, As I do so care for you. As I remember, I feel a strong bond Between our distanced Selves, and I know A bond like ours May never be broken, Regardless of anything.
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Sep 16, 2012
Sep 16, 2012 at 11:41 PM UTC
A Lingering Sense
I am caged. The edge of my bed Holds me hostage, The walls of my room Glare if I dare to peer Through the doorway. The road limits the places I may go, and the City limit markers refuse To let me pass. The farewell signs of this Place do not allow me To wave goodbye or Bid farewell; Their grip only tightens As I try to escape. The rivers and lakes Reject my respectful nods; They will not permit A simple gesture of homage. I am caged. Like a bird, I may Sing, but who may Hear my song, Who can hear My cries? My lungs may burst From my efforts, But the song will Never be heard, The bird will Never be free. Only in the imaginings Of the simple creature May it ever hope to Escape, To be Free.
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Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 12:00 PM UTC
Caged
I miss that place Where I used to be: My childhood land With the lilac tree. I miss that grass, And those golden fields, The times we used twigs For our makeshift shields. I miss that pond, With the brand-new deck, Where we’d use a canoe To make our trek. I miss that barn, With the musty stalls, Which I never minded, Never minded at all. I miss the house On the big, tall hill With the dark green shutters Above the windowsills. I miss our swings And the climbing tree That stained our hands And feet and knees. I miss the horses And their comforting smell With sparkling eyes that Held my secrets well. I miss the path running Through the woods Where I skipped and laughed As lively as I could. I miss my grandfather and his good ol’ dogs and doing chores and catching frogs. I miss my grandmother And her sweet smile As I sat in her kitchen And did dishes awhile. I miss those strays, The cats we had, Whose kittens we’d catch And get scratched real bad. I miss those days As we lay in the sun Soaking up all the rays And just having our fun. I miss those cats, And their colorful fur, Especially Buttercup, My favorite, her. I miss dear Grandma And her warm hugs And her talent and her laugh And her homemade rugs. I miss ol’ Gramps, And his mischievous ways and him talkin’ fast and us balin’ the hay. I miss that path That meandered in the trees Where the branches creaked And whispered in the breeze. I miss the horses, And the bridle leather And feeding them oats In all kinds of weather. I miss the swing, All knotted and worn, And the mulberry tree Where our clothes were torn. I miss that hill, With our little house, That held just us And sometimes a mouse. I miss that barn With the stalls and hayloft Where the sparrows gathered And the hay was soft. I miss the pond Where my favorite horse died And I sat next to the water And I remember I cried. I miss the grass That grew thin and tall And hid all the bugs And stole our baseballs. I miss that place From my childhood, But I’ll never forget it. I don’t think I could.
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Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 5:57 PM UTC
nostalgia
I miss that place Where I used to be: My childhood land With the lilac tree. I miss that grass, And those golden fields, The times we used twigs For our makeshift shields. I miss that pond, With the brand-new deck, Where we’d use a canoe To make our trek. I miss that barn, With the musty stalls, Which I never minded, Never minded at all. I miss the house On the big, tall hill With the dark green shutters Above the windowsills. I miss our swings And the climbing tree That stained our hands And feet and knees. I miss the horses And their comforting smell With sparkling eyes that Held my secrets well. I miss the path running Through the woods Where I skipped and laughed As lively as I could. I miss my grandfather and his good ol’ dogs and doing chores and catching frogs. I miss my grandmother And her sweet smile As I sat in her kitchen And did dishes awhile. I miss those strays, The cats we had, Whose kittens we’d catch And get scratched real bad. I miss those days As we lay in the sun Soaking up all the rays And just having our fun. I miss those cats, And their colorful fur, Especially Buttercup, My favorite, her. I miss dear Grandma And her warm hugs And her talent and her laugh And her homemade rugs. I miss ol’ Gramps, And his mischievous ways and him talkin’ fast and us balin’ the hay. I miss that path That meandered in the trees Where the branches creaked And whispered in the breeze. I miss the horses, And the bridle leather And feeding them oats In all kinds of weather. I miss the swing, All knotted and worn, And the mulberry tree Where our clothes were torn. I miss that hill, With our little house, That held just us And sometimes a mouse. I miss that barn With the stalls and hayloft Where the sparrows gathered And the hay was soft. I miss the pond Where my favorite horse died And I sat next to the water And I remember I cried. I miss the grass That grew thin and tall And hid all the bugs And stole our baseballs. I miss that place From my childhood, But I’ll never forget it. I don’t think I could.
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92
Pale, filtered Moonlight streams Through the windows And strokes her Face as she sways, Back and forth, To the music, Every note caressing Her ears; little Lovers coming And moving on, Making her cry. Small rivers Appear on her Moonstruck cheeks, And I want to Reach out a hand To wipe them Away, but the music And my shyness Keep me in My secluded spot behind The curtains. Her elegant figure Continues to sway In some entrancing Way, a siren call, But no man will Meet her request. The music is lulling Me to sleep, and I still see the slow Swaying as my eyelids Drift shut. A trumpeting announcement Calls my attention, And as my eyes spring Open, I see the girl Is gone. I have missed my chance. As though she is still There, a call beckons Me to where she last Stood, and I rush to The very spot-- I take in everything: The very moonlight That kissed her where I might have, The smell of her The panes were Taking in where I might have, The cool, crystalline Glass that caught Her tears where I might have. As I stood in my Small grievances, I felt a small hand On my shoulder. I turn, and see Her standing there In all her glory, Commanding my Attention by asking For none. I stared at her hand, For I could not meet Her eyes, and Followed the fingers To her delicate wrist, To the prominent elbow, To the proud shoulder, To the graceful neck, To her quivering chin, To her blossomed lips, To her peeking nose, To her dazzling eyes. I made it there. I saw they were made Of the rarest of emeralds, Shining beneath a brow Of inquiry: Who might I be? Without words, We understood One another, She related her pain Of family and lost Relationships, I of heartache and Rejection. We stared at one Another, Unsure of what To do. Our bodies moved Simultaneously Towards each other, Where our heads Bent, our fingers Met, and our lips Locked in the sweetest Of embraces to the Tune of the Waltz.
0
Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 4:04 AM UTC
Waltzing
Pale, filtered Moonlight streams Through the windows And strokes her Face as she sways, Back and forth, To the music, Every note caressing Her ears; little Lovers coming And moving on, Making her cry. Small rivers Appear on her Moonstruck cheeks, And I want to Reach out a hand To wipe them Away, but the music And my shyness Keep me in My secluded spot behind The curtains. Her elegant figure Continues to sway In some entrancing Way, a siren call, But no man will Meet her request. The music is lulling Me to sleep, and I still see the slow Swaying as my eyelids Drift shut. A trumpeting announcement Calls my attention, And as my eyes spring Open, I see the girl Is gone. I have missed my chance. As though she is still There, a call beckons Me to where she last Stood, and I rush to The very spot-- I take in everything: The very moonlight That kissed her where I might have, The smell of her The panes were Taking in where I might have, The cool, crystalline Glass that caught Her tears where I might have. As I stood in my Small grievances, I felt a small hand On my shoulder. I turn, and see Her standing there In all her glory, Commanding my Attention by asking For none. I stared at her hand, For I could not meet Her eyes, and Followed the fingers To her delicate wrist, To the prominent elbow, To the proud shoulder, To the graceful neck, To her quivering chin, To her blossomed lips, To her peeking nose, To her dazzling eyes. I made it there. I saw they were made Of the rarest of emeralds, Shining beneath a brow Of inquiry: Who might I be? Without words, We understood One another, She related her pain Of family and lost Relationships, I of heartache and Rejection. We stared at one Another, Unsure of what To do. Our bodies moved Simultaneously Towards each other, Where our heads Bent, our fingers Met, and our lips Locked in the sweetest Of embraces to the Tune of the Waltz.
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