...
"This isn't who you are."
"You're not the girl I used to know."
"I don't know who you've become."
He repeats these lines
So much these days
It annoys me more than
A broken record ever could
Ever should
Ever would
Cause I told him
I warned him thoroughly
"I'm not nice."
"You won't like the real me."
"I'm not worth fighting for."
But he didn't listen
He filled my head with empty
Promises that he meant
He filled my heart with hollow
Vows that he could never fulfill
"How can a person be so cold?"
"How can a lady be so cruel?"
"How can you change so fast?"
He looks hurt and
I hurt a little
But I shut down
Cause that's what I always do
"I'm nefarious, lover."
"Had my heart broken a few times."
"Now it's made of stone."
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 3:50 AM UTC
I am adept
In the art of being okay
I have mastered the craft
Of covering my troubles
I use all sorts of fancy facades
Acrylic, oil, watercolor
You name it.
I can paint over nearly anything
You will never know
How late I was up last night
Or why.
My eyes flicker
Like candlelight
But you couldn’t see
You couldn’t possibly see
I’m too good
For that.
I can dance, too
Waltzing away my sorrows
Carefully tip toe-ing the
Pas-de-I-am-fine
I get a standing ovation every time
I’m very talented, you see.
But my all time favorite
Is my disappearing act
I’m still perfecting it
Right now
But one of these days
I’ll show you
How I
Slip
Slip
Slip
Away
Right through your fingers.
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 3:50 AM UTC
Controller in his hands
My body in his arms
His eyes on the screen
He's not being mean
He's just prioritizing
The games over me
Jun 8, 2018
Jun 8, 2018 at 5:13 AM UTC
Why is it tortured soul's
poetry the best?
Pain and suffering visible
so much more poignant
than the rest?
Why does the angst engage
tears and sympathy?
Why is it my friend
they tear my heart
from me?
Jun 8, 2018
Jun 8, 2018 at 5:12 AM UTC
I love her.
No not ******** worldly,
But softly, purely , celestially.
Obsessively?
Not necessarily, just completely,
selfishly and I'm sorry.
I love her unconditionally, some say unconventionally.
But they don't understand me.
Yes...I love her.
Most spiritually, asexually, platonically and wholly.
I love her, truly, honestly, musically and poetically...
She doesn't have to love me.
Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 4:29 AM UTC
My mother is a piano
A little out of tune
Dusty keys
That play with ease
Ivory as the moon
Sometimes I’ll touch the wood
And admire its antiquity
Think of all the things that it
Ever dreamed to be
Sometimes when my fingers
Fly through a song
I wonder how this piano
Ever got so strong.
My mother is a piano,
She makes music out of air,
She answers each finger
With an embrace, with care
Her legs planted firmly
in the ground
How much I love to hear
her deep, rich sound.
Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 4:26 AM UTC
He was the sun, and I was the moon.
Without him, I couldn't illume the night.
I took all the darkness, he had morning and noon,
Without each other, the world wasn't right.
He was the fire, and I was the ice.
He'd bring the chaos without thinking twice.
Whatever flesh he burns, I come to aid.
I touch him without ever being afraid.
He was the ground, and I was the sky.
Aware of each other, but turn a blind eye.
He gave me vapor, I gave him the weather;
It was our only way of being together.
He was the mass, and I was the space.
And without hesitation, in my life, he took place.
I let him consume me, I didn't mind, you see,
I was just happy that somebody needed me.
He was he, and I was me.
What a fool I've been to trust and believe
That we need each other, when the sad truth is,
All there has been for us, was to coexist.
Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 4:23 AM UTC