I think it’s important for you to know,
The line between love
passion, fire, light, heat
passion, embers, dim, heat
Is the treatment you give me.
You, you are barely worth my hate.
Evening jokes and candle dinners,
Potted flowers hammock hours.
I miss walks along the beach,
Holding hands and making plans.
I even miss arguments and hurt feelings,
Working things out, and relearning what love is all about.
I don’t miss you. This is true.
For you were wicked and cruel.
I don’t miss ***, or getting your text,
As each word manipulation, each night of passion a hoax.
I would rather like to live again,
And make plans and joke and spoil and spend,
I would rather cuddle and my life to end,
To never need love again,
Because I would rather live laugh live beside you,
A poem she will never read.
I love you.
Label me as you please:
All of these are wrong.
I’m actually just
One plus one makes two,
One me. One you.
Two plus two makes four,
Two lovers. One *****.
Never again count me in,
When you cheat at cards, neither win.
You cut me deep, you sliced so thin.
You provoked, Seven deadly sins.
Six feet under.
No where to run.
Five more minutes.
BeFour I come.
Three quarters cocked, my two barreled gun.
One thing in mine,
Not a real event. Just a poem :)
Myself a mime,
Pushing the boundaries of my world.
An extrovert trapped,
In an introverted nightmare.
Escape me O Lord,
From this bitter place.
Free me my white washed walls.
Walk among rows of the sick and the dying
Find each of us in a corner
Silenced screaming sanity unhinged
Scrambling symptomatic soliloquy,
End this madness. Or end me.
Two faces stare lovingly at one another.
Once unified, they were
Broken by time.
By the world.
A great chasm eroded between them.
Each tear drop another waterfall.
Each face made from the destruction of the other.
One cliff face across from another,
For Eternity. Separate. Alone.
A boy stands above an ancient tomb.
A tomb of two lovers doomed to death.
Behind the boy is a girl.
A pretty girl with cute freckles,
Kissed by the sun.
The sun as orange as her hair,
Smiling a new day to the boy.
Together they cross the chasm.
The boy lays himself down across the gap.
Happily the girl walks across his body,
Learning him through every footfall.
Living years in seconds she crosses.
Walking past ancient warning signs.
Signs of those who crossed the bridge before,
Those who ran across,
Those who crushed his hands,
Those who cracked his spine
She stepped foot on land,
Grabbed the boys hands.
They made eye contact and for a second the world stopped.
The two cliff faces looked up at the boy who was a bridge for hundreds.
Then they wept as the girl dropped his hands.
Plumiting the boy down.
Deep below the tears of long ago.
Time went on.
The boy recovered.
Walked the path discovered,
Atop the ravine.
There he sat.
Waiting for the next passenger.
To never look back.
This is a rework of an old poem that never lost its meaning.
Whimsical rhyme ~
With modern time ~
What may be?
The future of me?
Knowing my past.
I'll probably finish last.
Will I be a star?
Drive a fancy car?
Or will I be poor.
Going door to door.
Will I be successful?
Career and family and fed and full?
Or will I be alone.
Withered starved to the bone.
Oh God what if I fail.
What if I dont preva-
**** this rhyme
Existential crisis don't rhyme.
They don't fit fancy couplets
They just ****.
They really just ****.