Хейли

Хейли Jan 2014

Smoke.

Sometimes,
I bemuse how long it takes myself to exhale your name
out in cigarette smoke.

Your name is like a secret that I will not
force through my vocal cords.

I will not say it any other time.
Merely,
for the fact that your name
is just as toxic as chemicals that I cradle in my lungs.
I silently let go of your name, and a simple little memory of you
each time I let the smoke escape from my chest,
and over my lips as I breathe out.

Sometimes,
I do not know if it is the smoke
or the hot air that I let out,
to be me letting go of your name.

For,
I fear that the longer it takes me to release the smoke,
is of how much I really miss saying your name out loud.

I am confused on whether
it is the length me slowly letting go of your name,
or if it is just the warm carbon dioxide of my breath.

Хейли Jan 2014

Snowflake

You stayed in my life the same amount of time,

that this snowflake stayed in my hand,

until I watched the both of you slowly melt away.

And there was nothing I could do to,
to stop you.

Хейли Jan 2014

Sea.

They tell you that,
there are plenty of other fish in the sea.
But, you tell them,
that I am your ocean.
But, you tell me,
that you're afraid that you are drowning.
Well then, Baby,
you should not be swimming in me.

Хейли Jan 2014

Lingua

I apologize,
but the liquid ran clear,
as it lacked the taste of beer.
I turned the bottle's end into the air,
and held it until I couldn't bare.
My mouth was marinated in liquor, my dear.
My tongue was saturated in Fireball.

Ever since, that unfaithful night,
my tongue must feel like a flame of dishonesty
against your flowering rosebud;
since, it drunkenly 'ate' up
it's own spoken promise in faithfulness.

For now, it lays in a bath full of salvia coded guilt with
forgiveness standing at the tip;
in it's want to lovingly still explore you.

Хейли Jan 2014

The Reading Rosebud

What if the walls of your rosebud,
can read the bumps of my tastebuds,
as if they were brail,
and you discover all the lies
that it once formed into sound?
How truthful would my tastebuds feel,
if it headliner in the paper always read,
"I am changed" in the daily news?

Хейли Jan 2014

Selfishness

Thank you,
I don't need anymore than this
just a deadbolt
and a locksmith;

To crack you open without a key.

Thank you,
I don't need anymore than this locksmith;
The bitter sweet symphony of just letting things be,
after letting you out to see the world beneath your feet,
I wanted to be the one to set you free.
Only, that wasn't good enough to me…

Thank you,
I don't need anymore than this
just a deadbolt;
and with a single pull of a kiss,
lock you up inside of me,
so you could never leave me.

Thank you,
I don't need anymore than this
just a deadbolt
and a locksmith.

Хейли Jan 2014

my inner bother.

I don't want to sound desperate or even slightly pessimistic,
but,
pardon me, or pardon my ways,
maybe I've been a bit pampered, over the time that was once gave.
i'm used to the songs, and poems, the lyrical romance,
that… meaningful wordy romance.
the kind that breezes right under your skin, and dances along to the rhythm within.
but,
I want more.

pardon me, I don't want to sound desperate or even slightly pessimistic,
i want the phone calls that are deemed restless.
i want photos that capture my words,
that make me speechless,
that make my brain curve.
for, I've been through it all.
i've droven into love and back.
i know all of the tricks and all of the facts.
so i do not expect much,
not even a bit.
i just kinda wish it was more than just...
but,

pardon me, I don't want to sound desperate or even slightly pessimistic,*
but, I want more.

More then just *this.