Nothing is louder than silence
No sound is more pure than
The soundless meditation of souls
And the beating of innocent hearts
Yet, I look for beauty
In an hourglass figure
Behind the reflection of a mirror
The condensed dew of a morning sapling
I know I will never find someone
To complete me in the ways you do
Hell and heaven oppose each other
While silence and emptiness are the closest of friends
This is a poem to mark over 4 years of being single. And I no longer can honor my silence. I hate being alone. So, I will reserve myself to my loneliness.
To set myself on fire
But, people will talk
Of how I lost the courage to live on
Because that is what they do
In their solitary spaces behind
Church pews and library desks
They remember the few
Some remember them by words
And others keep their ashes
Visit their tombs years later
But, I know my books will be made of the regret that's left
Women will swoon over those coy lines
Their children will hear the tales
That I had concocted on a lonely night
When I gave you my everything
Till then, remember me.
She was a thrifted sweater and denim and jersey knit sheets
Pizza breath and red wine and toothpaste
Alabaster skin and knotted hair and freckled shoulders
A tangible dream and my favorite good morning
She agreed to let me kiss her and I agreed to let her slip my shirt over my head before she became
Blood and tears
"I trusted you" and "I’m sorry"
Midnight poems and a drunk "I need you"
I’m afraid I loved you like the way I wrote
Literature takes a special place in the mind.
Where you can keep practicing reliving mysteries.
And preserve the childish imagination.
In the form of an enigma.
Where experience meets experience.
Where reality and dreams can coexist.
And there is a thin veneer that separates us all.
Opinion and fact are the same in a work of fiction.
Such is the nature of our perception.
Different from one another.
Existing in all in individual form, immersed in words.
The essence of literature is to rebuild the soul.
And tear the intellectual apart.
Love, peace, and spiritual communion.
it seems like we love all the same things,
besides each other
Don't let me fall
Don't let me die in your arms
I'll fall asleep tonight
Is that okay?
I thought of us.
And I wake up on the homeless bench
With cold feet in torn socks
All I do is think of you
And I hate that I've done this to you
Our love had lost its romance and charm anyway.
With one, two, and three seconds to morning light
I punched out a new tune in the howling night
When the wind blows, the heaven gates bring the shine
Your way or mine
Let us take flight and some time.
Now don't feel poor
They'll break you down anyway
Don't play with the knife, let me hold you
Do you feel special too?
Being away, it's so cruel I could die.
Oh, don't lose that beautiful, true flame
Of the ravenous blues, comes the sickly light
It flickers and rustles, untamed instead
Watch as the orange core of your robust fire
Reflects your life and love, walks here and there
It shall rattle your soul till it dims
Love hath captured, ensnared and cracked!
The yellow eye of the King Cobra peers
But, it does not let you leave in case you die
You will slip out of people's empty lives
Quench your thirst from their ample wine cellars
And slither into their beds and **** them
In complete reverie, unknowingly in love
You will know the meaning of being mad
I have seen victims of a disease
They were not patients
Only ceasing to be free