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Connor Coffey Mar 2021
My head hurts,
I can feel the pulsating palpitations of a cerebral miscommunication,
I’m in bed but I’m not tired,
Staring at the ceiling,
Waiting for daybreak to blind me with its optimism,
Dreading every shred of light.

Why can’t I close my eyes,
I’m tired,
My body is tired,
My mind is weary,
I do feel sleepy,
So why am I still up.

Is it you?
Are you here with me,
You’re not in the bed but if I close my eyes I can still feel you there,
Your imprint still shadows the pillow you left behind,
Come and go thief,
Take my memories,
Steal my dreams.

It’s almost 3 o clock,
My mother was superstitious about that time,
Told me to pray until sunlight,
Or until graced with sleep,
I guess I’ll try,
If your reading this tonight,
I hope you sleep tight,
Those pesky little bed bugs won’t get you this time,
If your reading this tomorrow,
I hope you slept well,
And the dream of us together seems like a really tough sell but I love you,
Goodnight princess
Connor Coffey Nov 2020
Autumn leaves fall on a crisp August evening, old summer sunsets blanket the ground like a warm audible wave, lights rays reach out to the touch as a mellow soft scent of her perfume dances around my face.

Her sweet eyes look up with grace as her body moves vicariously with the pace of our bodies in motion.

Only a semblance of a notion that she is mine in this very moment, she speaks to me with a sweet connotation mixed in with forced annunciation, a hint of an apology to reconcile her accent which she thinks is all but charming.

We move together with perfect symmetry as if our bodies confirmed the idea of co-dependency, complete entirety of a simulation of true emotional empathy.

Summer sunsets come and go, autumn leaves decompose into the ground and the once barren branches gain new companions for another season onto next,
Though we may forget the feeling of each other’s skin, and the warmth that would accompany it, I know I will remember the autumn leaves in August.

Her touch will always stain my skin, and although our time together has come to an end. I enjoy the idea of a future within a future that holds a possibility of her in it. I’ll see you there, wherever this life may take us, someday I will see you there.
Connor Coffey Oct 2020
I write to you now,
Drunken and disorderly,
Exacerbated state filled with monolithic tones,
I see tears filled with poetry,
Lines crossed with poems,
I see rivers filled with apathy,
Thoughts of the unknown.

I speak to you with empathy,
I shout to you with signs,
I scream wrought without poetry,
Hearts filled with the bleak lines,
I ache to them angrily,
Their cries to the unknown,
I look to the heavens and reach for the throne.

I tell you with dignity,
Confidence and pride,
I lie through my teeth as you listen to the rhymes,
I move through the symmetry,
I move through the sea.
I move without apathy,
I move in you and me.

I feel grace when you are reading this,
I feel peace just to know,
I feel pain without agony in the thought you’re alone,
I see clouds hanging over me,
Wind filled with tears,
I feel thoughts overwhelming me,
Thoughts of ended nights.

Just another fabled poet you see,
Just another guy,
Who beckons all about agony,
Who cries all the time,
I feel all of your empathy,
Your pity your cheap dimes.

I see through the facade that is the everlasting crime,
I write for the lonely,
I write for the pained,
I write for the sickly,
I write for the vain,
I write for the criminals,
I write for the sins,
I write for the lost and those who are not accepted in.

I see all of your beauty,
Your everlasting eyes,
I see through the autonomy,
The lust without fines,
I know what your thinking,
I know what you’ve said,
I know why you’re angry,
I know why you’re sad,
I care only for the memory,
That we share at this time,
For only in the mystery can we be sure we are fine.
Connor Coffey Oct 2020
How should we start?
Within a melody or a hum,
Where should we begin?
Within the fragmenting of this reality or the on the complexities of the next one,
Where should we go?
Within the recess's of our mind or to the depths of another.

Do we acknowledge all of our falters the "sins of the father",
This blank space gives no room for anxiety,
These walls loom towards the multitudes of falsities,
How the echo's of faint classical music lines the ceiling,
Giving room to symphonies, concertos and singing.

We are cold now,
The lights dimmer,
Music halts,
Feeling fades,
We stop.
Connor Coffey Oct 2020
Take me into your warm embrace,
Allow me just a fraction of grace,
Give me but one second of peace,
Grant me my love a fulfilling release.

Take care of this wounded soul,
Give away all of my past, my present, untold,
Shelter me in love at least for a moment,
Envelop my torture in thoughts of kindness.

Subdue the demons that plague me so,
Endure all the damage that lays waste in my soul,
Kiss me to sleep as I shout to the heavens,
Allow me a second of your holy benevolence.

These words come out tired, weary, and weak;
I have only but moments til I find what I seek,
Bones too brittle,
Pain too great,
Allow me but one second of grace,
Give to me what I do not deserve,
Allow me to feel your unalienable love.
Connor Coffey Oct 2020
Lost gambles and big bucks,
Bets placed on memories,
Like lottery tickets thrown out after a few blocks missed off from the fortune of a century.

Drunken and disorderly,
I find myself intoxicated by the hypocrisy,
Droning past the symphonies of biographies,
Settling into the sensation of monotony.

I allow myself to feel the indecency,
Encompassing the facetious and malicious connotation of idiocy,
Words I lay in front of me like land mines,
No trip just pressure and even the slightest bit allows a flurry of verbs and nouns not known to the religious or the sacred.

Bottles downed in one sitting,
Every desperate attempt to hide from those memories,
Mulling in me like a novel with copies,
Each sip takes another one from me,
I relish in the idea of absolute silence from those hurting me.

Now they have a name,
I remember less and less each morning,
But every sunrise comes with their birth given right in the forefront of my memories,
So I drink a little more,
One day,
Someday,
I won't remember anything.
Connor Coffey Oct 2020
This addiction is old to me,
I've spent years sitting in this warm grave,
An enclave of lost words and sullied state of remorse hinder my spirit from its wake,
The soft echo of your voice still heard in my dreams.

Smoke encompasses me,
I can feel the thick cloud carry over my chest like a blanket,
The warm mist entices me to continue,
Breathe more,
Breathe more,
Breathe more,

The whispers get louder inside my head,
I can't remember the last thing you said,
Panic envelopes me as I hold my breathe,
I want another five minutes of you in my hands,
I am frail and exhausted now.

My eyes are getting tired and it's too dark to see,
I assume now the only thing left for me is sleep,
The fog takes hold of my neck and chest and creates a vacuum that finally puts me to rest.

My eyes are closing,
The air is getting still,
Breathe in,
Breathe in,
Breathe in,

Your eyes were the last thing that ran through my memory,
If only I had more time to continue our melody,
If only I had given you one more flower,
If only I had written you and told you of my powerless defeat.
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