I should have let go
The night told me so
It ran its fingers across my confidence
And gripped it tight
Dragging it to depths I never knew existed
And instead of
Clawing my way back
My hands digging deeper into the stars and making my way towards my home
I faltered at the home stretch
And allow myself to be dragged off to space
A space that no amount of crawling
No amount of meditating and inner-peace
No amount of kumbaya and stabbing myself in my chest
Will save me from the night that told me
I should’ve let go
Take my hand
Don’t let go
Share with me your doubts and I shall listen
Never feel that your grip is to tight
Even if my hand shall turn purple, Its nerves dying
A hand is nothing compared to an open heart
Soak your grief and
watch as it dissolves into relief
I haven’t put thought to paper since then
Because I’d thought that
If I thought anymore, you’d only see
A bitter child who threw his toys out the pram
If I thought anymore, I’d only be writing about
A heart-broken man that wanted love from
The embodiment of a soulmate
And was willing to flirt on the outskirts of deaths embrace
And ignore all rules imposed
For a fairy-tale understanding of destiny
If I thought anymore, I'd have to look within
At the selfish man that should've
Stepped away and moved off the edge ages ago
But has instead, decided to
Dangle his heart off the cliff
And throw it away, into the darkened pit below
Time has past since then
And still I think, though I’m less inclined to share now
Time has healed some things
Birds are spry come morning but
As I’ve said, to the shadows and the sun
Time cannot mend an adamant fool who wishes...
It’s been weeks
Weeks, I say!
The sun stirs me from my dark nights
Leaving me with an unfamiliar...warmth?
I don’t despise it
It’s been a welcome change from
The sunken eyes and
Miasma of unpleasantries
Now the sun
bathes me in its glow
Never afraid to
Burn me with its tremendous affection and adulation
I can feel it's joyful intentions
Even birds must land
And when they land on gravelled road
Their wings sore from their journey
So too, they whimper towards the night sky
Hoping for anything to listen to their woes
It’s been weeks
Weeks, I say!
The sun may be my friend
But the night is family
It hears my yearning
Like a cat of the alleys
That shrieks and hisses
Fending off the night’s terrors
It listens in its silence
And utters nothing but thought
That's more than enough.
A/N: ahh yes a poem for world poetry day nice lol.
It's been awhile, how's everyone doing?
I am disengaging with reality
I don't mean to but
I've measured my days in unrequited affection
Each day ends the same
Never is there a change
The sun still tumbles out of existence
Releasing a shroud of turpitude, for me to cloak myself in
Watching doves has become an annoyance
Daydreaming on how easy they can fly anywhere
With whomever they wish
I draw my knife and poke it against my temple
And feel the wetness of frustration tread lightly
Down it drips,
Splashing against wanted hips
Staining painted fingertips
Solidifying a destined kiss
Down, it drips
All I'm left with
Is a streak of
Hoping it fades someday
But for now, it drys
Giving me the mark
Of unbridled emotions
In the shape
of a caged mourning dove.
Have you read me yet?
I tell a story that is
Straightforward and humble in it's beginning
Where I coddle you in the warmth
Show you joy in my words
You admire this journey
That we are about to embark
Then, a problem arises
But you stop halfway
And dog-ear me
Leave me in a predicament
That I have to replay over and
Over and over
Stuck in an endless...
Did I disappoint you?
Was the problem too disturbing?
Did it leave you perplexed?
Was it too graphic in the depictions of
What lurked towards the ending?
When will you read me again?
I feel the words starting to take their leave
I hear they're having a wonderful time in the sun
But I fear that
As time has gone on
My ending has been stained and rewritten to
So even if you wanted to read me again
Unfortunately, you will never know
How my story ends.
A/N: You should probably take care of your books...
Dying gracefully in their plastic vase
The stale scent of cocoa
Mined from the tropics and shipped
To our disorganised abode
The day is done
The sun sneaks back
Slumped birds rouse
And here I find
That I still