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Mar 2018 · 126
Luke Mar 2018
a false confidence.
The shining, shimmering idea
that there’s somebody looking out for you.
But it’s still black when dawn invades the dark
and as your night ends
mine stretches well into the sun.
Luke Mar 2018
you silent monument to a happier time and place
hang beneath a sky
that promised bigger and better things.
And time has not been kind.  
Your coat has cracked under duress
and the softest wind takes pieces of you when it leaves
like ashes in a plume.
The sun does not smile upon you.
It burns.
Mar 2018 · 96
Luke Mar 2018
Cast out,
I leave the hostile universe of your arms
in search of warmer suns.
It’s not hard to be alone out here,
but the infinity is humbling.
An endless stretch of nothingness.
In time I will look back at the darkness
at you, a satellite in the vacuum,
for no matter how far I drift
I feel your gravity, though weakened,
it still grips.
Mar 2018 · 85
Luke Mar 2018
There’s a depression in my bed
where last you lay your head
and I still roll over in the night
just to catch your scent.
But it’s fleeting,
and once the mattress has finally reset
the depression will still remain
only it will be the one inside my head.
Jan 2018 · 87
Arguments In the Car
Luke Jan 2018
The radio wheel clicks beneath your fingers
and silence follows.
This time it was something I said.
And you're not looking at me anymore.
Your eyes are fixed ahead.

Toward oncoming traffic
or maybe a bug,
guts across the glass, spread.
You're tuning out my apologies.
Your eyes are fixed ahead.

The gears beneath us churning
drive the distance in my head
the gap between the seats;
between us
seems to measure the greatest of lengths.
There's traffic in three lanes
and we're heading toward a mess
You say 'I love you."
But your eyes...
they stay fixed ahead.
When it becomes clear that it's over.
Nov 2017 · 120
En Transit
Luke Nov 2017
Thumb to test the water,
headlights stream,
one, two, three,
a dozen pass.  
Between horizons,
indifferent and distant,
forward or back,
a stagnant traveller
always in motion
settles for nowhere.
When life breaks down.
Nov 2017 · 100
Morning Girl
Luke Nov 2017
Early sun by the stair
looms a shadow over discarded shoes,
an open door, empty suitcase.
For two.
Ways parted in A.M silence,
a single passing glance, of thought,
of shame.
Dear, we won't be here again,
or the same.
Oh but what time won't change.
The moon to a passenger,
your room still haunts me at night.
These sheets around my throat,
know they are not mine.
Morning girl,
I will learn in time,
not to be so tired.
We haven't spoken since.
Aug 2016 · 511
Luke Aug 2016
There’s a distance in me, too great, too steep
and I have been left crawling, calling,
clawing by the subconscious defeat.
I have gasped at the beauty of mountains I’ll never climb
and envisioned myself at their peak.
But what would I do up there?
What would I do with the world at my feet?
Well, I would scream at the void,
hear it echo again and again
and know that I was finally heard.
I was heard in the end.
Oct 2015 · 332
Luke Oct 2015
I hold your memory in my skin, every touch, every kiss,
embedded deep within.
On the darkest of nights, I can feel them, they burn,
They bring me warmth and comfort.
They make my stomach churn.

I will never know why you couldn’t love me,
you know a part of me doesn’t even care.
It’s your absence that speaks in volumes.
More than when you were ever here.

And should you find your happiness,
the one you couldn’t find in me
I hope you never know what it feels like
to watch them turn away and leave.

To claw at your wrists until you’ve wrung
your heart right off your sleeve.
To chase after a fading dream,
when you’ve been resigned to your knees.
Oct 2015 · 334
Luke Oct 2015
Conquer the world or so we agreed,
but now that we’re here, do we have the need
for such a place so full of apathy and greed?
This isn’t how we thought it would be.

Set out to see the places on our screens,
but nothing is like it was supposed to be,
there’s a sadness here and there’s a sadness there,
so thick we could choke ourselves upon the tangible despair.

Hopes shattered in plain sight.
This is where dreamers go to die.

All the longest days, all the sleepless nights,
wasted on horizons upon which we had set our sights.
Now there’s nothing left to sink our teeth into but misery
and the bitter taste of a life lived in perpetual reverie.

World shattered in plain sight.
This is where dreamers live to die.
Sep 2015 · 678
Luke Sep 2015
You always find me in the quiet moments
when the chaos all but fades,
but you’re never here when I need you,
no, you’re always so far away.
And how can I ever be good enough for you
if all you ever get to see
are all the shattered pieces
that I have to collect when you leave?
I would say that I’m just a little bit broken
but that implies that I can be fixed,
you’ve destroyed me, love and there’s no coming back.
Not from this.
Sep 2015 · 1.8k
Luke Sep 2015
See. Believe. Repeat
I am not just a brick,
I am the wall.
Short one, tried to write more, couldn't think of anything that complimented these 3 lines so I left it as is. This one is about self appreciation and believing you are worth more than what you or others may tell you. Be the wall.
Sep 2015 · 818
Luke Sep 2015
Float on lifeless vessel, I’m afraid I must jump ship.
Everything I’ve ever done, ever suffered
has lead straight to this.

Every story they will sing will be of sorrow and of doubt
but this was never about taking the easy way,
this was just about getting out.

I’ve lived so long in regret of moments that fleeted all too soon
that my head has become crowded with all the broken memories
and now there’s just no room.

I can’t exist beside them for any longer, not for one more day.
So I’ll deliver my bones unto the river and
let the current carry my conscience away.
This one may seem like it's about suicide but it's really about letting go of the things that you've been holding onto, forgetting them, moving on. Lethe is the river of forgetfulness, being one of the five rivers of the Greek underworld. It is said that if you drank from the river you would experience forgetfulness.
Sep 2015 · 545
Luke Sep 2015
Like a travel guide embedded in your tissue,
your scars are roadmaps,
they tell me where you’ve been.
With caution, I run my fingers through the grooves,
and I feel every stone in your path
so I steer away from them
and all the places you wish to never return to.
Your memories are the passing landmarks,
and I see the sadness in every weakened construct.
I’ll never take you down those roads,
I’ll never pave my own.
I promise.
Sep 2015 · 380
Hotel Room
Luke Sep 2015
When I look at you, you are a hotel room.
I see the people that have come and gone,
staying for the moment before leaving you forever.
I see the things that they left behind,
things that were never meant to mean a thing
but suddenly became your everything.
I see the trashed rooms of your soul
and the repair bills they never had to pay,
the *** on the sheets where they left your heart
to lay at night.
I see the waterlogged carpet from the storms
that you wept and the tired springs of your
levied will just barely holding in.
I see your four walls.
They are ***** and cracked at the corners where they meet.
I see you, hotel room and I see your imperfections.
And yet when I look at you, you still feel more like home
than anywhere else I know.
Sep 2015 · 464
Natalie (The Last Day)
Luke Sep 2015
It’s been nearly fifteen years and I’ve all but forgotten your face,
your name still echoes a void inside my chest,
it’s the only part of you that remains.
I was too young to remember you completely.
I was too young to understand your pain.
But the lesson I’ve learned from your departure,
is that broken hearts often fill early graves.

You left a letter and I can only imagine what it said.
We don’t blame you for what you did
just know that things haven’t been the same since.
You were a light. A lantern. A guiding star.
But in the end even the brightest sparks succumb to the dark.
And I’ve made it a point in life to be an example of everything you are.
I don’t believe in a life after this but I know wherever I’ve been,
you were never all that far.

And I know there’s a thousand sad songs out there
but you know they’re all unique,
because though everyone has lost someone
they’ll never know what you meant to me.
And I wish you were here,
oh, how I wish you had ******* stayed,
cause maybe things would be different now.
Maybe we’ll have our chance to find out someday.
This one is extremely personal to me and one I have been wanting to write for a long time but could never figure out how to do it justly. My Auntie Natalie, my godmother, my mother's best friend throughout high school, committed suicide years and years ago when I was a young child. At the time, I was too young to understand what had happened but my mum told me she died of a broken heart. Natalie left a massive void when she died, I know my mother hasn't been the same since, there's an infinite sadness in her even to this day. It's crazy to think how much a person can affect your life.
Sep 2015 · 310
Luke Sep 2015
If our love was an ocean then we were stranded at sea
lost, miles from safety, just out of reach.
We fired off all signals and called out in distress,
But we were sailing upon a corpse. A crippled ship. Wrecked.
And when we depended on a shore but a stone’s throw away
you slipped the stone into my pocket and watched
as I drowned beneath the waves.
Aug 2015 · 471
Luke Aug 2015
Lost I lay in my thoughts again, hoping you’d drown,
just so you could call on me to dive in and save you,
to dive in.

Hey, lost in my heart again, behold a clarity,
a clear, unbroken picture of the things that time could not repair,
a perfect tapestry of hopeless despair,
and you’re at the center, you are the cause.
I fight you in my dreams, I find you there in pieces,
And nothing’s as it seems, lessons taught without meaning.

What am I supposed to do when everything I put into you,
was everything I had? Now everything has gone again.
It’s a perfect dark.

Stitched across the flesh the thread of all my flaws connects the scars,
they glow with bitterness and restraint.
Some days are torture, some days are too much.

Wait, now follow me. Wait don’t, follow me.
Hold my hand as I make my descent.
Make my descent.

If I drown, will you dive in?
When I drown will you dive?
I’ve been drowning all along.
Jun 2015 · 367
Luke Jun 2015
It’s the sound of emptiness that has me beat,
the king of a golden empire turning to silver at my feet.
My self-worth depreciates with every echoed whisper,
it wouldn’t change a thing if I told her that I missed her.

I am not wanting of this crown of despair,
it has been a beautiful muse,
but there has to be something more, somewhere.

Written a thousand love songs, that’s a thousand suicide notes I’ve left,
killed myself to commit a paramour to paper, her love I haven't kept.
It’s the thought of that emptiness that haunts me from my sleep,
Will I run out of reasons to stay if I have nothing left to keep?

I am not wanting of this crown of despair,
It has been a beautiful muse,
but there has to be something more, somewhere.

It’s the dream of living that keeps me from defeat.
The belief there’s a place in time and space where again we shall meet.
When the calcified streams flow after years of desolation and decay,
she’ll be waiting in the river to carry me home, to carry me away.
Jun 2015 · 988
Luke Jun 2015
Oh conscience,
this is where we must part.
I promise to keep your damage here in my thrice heavy heart.
Your guidance once illuminated a long and treacherous path
but the destination you had planned for me
has become too distant, far too embedded in the dark.

Oh lover,
I’ve done my best to keep myself,
I can’t believe it’s been this hard.
Because no matter what I say or do,
I’m the only one that gets torn apart.
And I’ve grown tired of these fiends,
vultures scavenging through the carrion heap,
so called friends looking for their fill.
Oh misery, you’re no company to keep.

Oh mother, if you could only see
what this world lost in the throes of avarice has done to me.
it has taken everything I had and erased the lines I drew upon the sand.
and I’ve worn myself thin trying to exist between them,
to find myself again.

Oh conscience,
this is where we must part.
But I promise to keep you, oh burden,
here in my broken, heavy heart.
Jun 2015 · 455
Oh Distance, Oh Despair
Luke Jun 2015
We’re not so different.
Two hearts under the same cold stars and vacant skies,
I hope a day comes when we look upon them and realize
there’s only distance between us.
We’re only distant, you and I.

Do you cry for me?
Or even remember how it feels?
To lie together in awe, wondering if it was all real.
For me, it’s a distant thought, one that still burns the same
as the moment I took it all in.
I still choke on the sediment that remains.
I still choke.

Do not cry for me.
I’ve already torn myself apart a thousand times,
with enough self-loathing to fill an ocean,
to drown in its indifferent tides.
I still remember how it feels,
I remember every single night  
I could never bring myself to let them go.
Unlike you, they’ve never left my side.

But I do not cry for you.
What’s done is done and what is dead can stay that way.
I could tell you that I wish you were here,
but there’s nothing a wish has ever changed.
I remember how it feels,
and I hope that you would say the same.
Cause I remember, still remember.
And I’ve never been the same.

We’re not so different.
Two hearts under the same cold stars and vacant skies,
I hope a day comes when we look upon them and realize
there’s only distance between us.
We’re only distant, you and I.
Jun 2015 · 785
Luke Jun 2015
No remorse.
This lack of guilt. This lack of regret.
I’ve seen it before. That same look in her eyes.
She will leave me again and I will ask for more.

I don’t know if I’m a glutton for her punishment
or just pavlovian to the pain,
because I still find comfort in all of her beauty
and even in the ugliness she left when she went away.

But I’ve grown tired of her ghost,
and how it rings in our past with the shake of relentless chains,
haunting the space between who I wish to be and who I am today.
I can’t be with her and for the life of me,
I just can’t seem to push her away,
So I resign, lonely in love and hopeful upon this road
that she’ll relieve me of her ghost somewhere along the way
Jun 2015 · 327
Moments In The Abyss
Luke Jun 2015
Oh, maelstrom of hatred,
a thousand leagues of the blackest sea,
spiral down from the surface into the arms of the abyss
where you lie in the darkness beneath.
Such dissonance could drown this world.
Will that be your legacy?
Blacked out are your stars, sun and sky
in the name of your ego, ire and misery.

Can’t you see that you’re drifting alone?
In an ocean that runs deep as the veins,
that carry to the lengths of the earth,
these desperate hollow cries for attention
that leave your mouth in vain.

Can’t you see that you’re drifting alone?
In an ocean that runs deep as the veins,
that will carry you to the bowels of the earth,
the only place fitting enough to be your ******* grave.
Jun 2015 · 422
Head Over Heart
Luke Jun 2015
I see desolation stapled across all of my dreams
and wake up every day to a life that’s no different, it seems.
There’s no black and white here, just shades of gray,
a collage of all the pieces that broke off and fell away.

What have I become in their absence?
And where do I go from here?
The apprehension in your voice paints no illusions, it’s clear
that you don’t have the answers, do you?
I thought not, my dear.

I’ve thrown myself around this wretched rock
a thousand times in your name,
traversed this sphere just trying to forget it
and still wound up the ******* same.

Now these bones are all I have left
and I would exchange them
for you to put your head upon my chest
and hear the silence you created.
Jun 2015 · 312
By And Down
Luke Jun 2015
A bottle in and I find solace at the bottom,
I lament this life and all of its problems,
is it wrong to long for something less monotonous?
Work. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.
Just to be forgotten.

I cut my teeth and paid my dues,
gave it my all, but it was never enough for you.
I’ve tried everything, what am I supposed to do?
When you still won’t leave me,
even though I’ve begged you to.

I look at this house and I see misery in the walls,
a history of long late nights, forsaken love and secret calls.
When was the last time I told you, “I loved you”, I can’t even recall,
or if there was ever a time
that I ever meant it at all.
Jun 2015 · 368
Luke Jun 2015
We built this house and all of the memories it conceals,
but if you peel back the layers, see the emptiness revealed.
What started out as infatuation has bred a mutual hate,
I dream of snapping your ******* neck
and still say ‘I love you’ to your face.

This is what we’ve done to each other.
This is what we’ve become.

I’m not proud of what I am and I’m not scared of what you are,
But I am terrified we’ve missed the exit,
that we’ve taken this too far.
Is this all just a consequence
of falling in and out of love?
You either die happy together or live long enough
to tear each other apart.
Jun 2015 · 377
Five Days Missing
Luke Jun 2015
Two empty seats by the kitchen, the smell of breakfast,
the coffee *** hissing. It’s all missing.
This doesn’t feel like home, this is a tomb.
The radio says your name and it’s repeated by the news,
they’re holding you in their prayers, begging that you come home soon.

I’m losing hope each day,
we’ve never spent this long apart
and without you this house is so ******* empty,
this world is so ******* dark.

And I feel utterly helpless, not knowing where you are.
They say that home is where the heart is, so where is my ******* heart?
Where is my ******* heart?
Jun 2015 · 761
Luke Jun 2015
The hardest part of letting go is knowing nothing will ever change
no matter how far my body wanders, my heart refuses to pull away.
It’s been warped and contused by the beauty of this black hole love,
the further I fell in, the slower I seemed to come apart.

I buried myself inside your false comfort, your arms became my tomb.
You were a fitting final resting place, my bones, yours to exhume.
But I’ve died so many times in the absence of your touch,
that I’ve resigned myself to a life alone, abandoned in the dust.

And I can’t convince myself, that I wouldn’t do it all with you again
just promise me that we’ll forget each other before the end, my friend.
Jun 2015 · 567
Luke Jun 2015
The homesick heart of a war driven soldier
beats to the sound of shrapnel.
Smoke and death fills his lungs,
The land stinks of blood and spent ammunition.

He wakes in his bed, half a century and a thousand miles away,
covered in the sweat of war. His wife long gone,
offers comfort from her side of the bed.
Even her ghost can’t quell him.

Fifty years a soldier,
Could never shake these hounds of war
and they come around to remind him.
Fill his head and heart with a sorrow, no man should bear alone.

Just because it didn’t **** him,
it doesn’t mean he didn’t give his life.
Jun 2015 · 829
Luke Jun 2015
If life is the journey, then we are pilgrims,
hands bound and blindfolded,
stumbling to our graves with moments of clarity
and threats of immortality, scattered along the way.

It’s all do or die, no second roll of the dice,
where the blind lead the blinded with promises of paradise
through the killing fields, we walk this knife.
Conform to live, obey to survive.

Not while I’m still breathing will this world ever see me to my knees,
we’re all born on death row, I just wear my sentence on my sleeve.
Your vicious icons of god are nothing special,
these devils you unleashed.
If it’s blood that you want, you won’t get a drop out of me.
Apr 2015 · 494
Luke Apr 2015
Throw yourself a line.
Give yourself a reason to lie, to lie to me.
If that’s what brings you comfort.
If that’s what you really need.
I’m so used to giving into what you want,
I could do this in my sleep.
So many restless nights.
So many reasons why.
I should’ve left you to your own devices.
I should’ve left you to die.
But you have this way with words
that binds me like a curse.
It’s been years now that I haven’t heard your voice
and yet the cadence still ******* hurts.
Apr 2015 · 520
Head Fucks & Heartaches
Luke Apr 2015
We never laid hands,
but there are cracks in the walls of the house
that we threw each other around.
You couldn’t stand to see me happy,
I couldn’t stand to see you down.
Who knew my compassion and your contempt
would become such good friends,
just to leave each other breathless
and broken in the end.
You said ‘we’re not meant for each other’
and there are parts of me that agree.
But you’re the head **** I’ll always love
and I’m the mind *******’ll always need.
Apr 2015 · 250
Luke Apr 2015
I stayed for love then I left to live,
with few regrets and no ***** to give.
I buried you in my head to survive
but you’re not that easy to forget.
Why do you have to be the one part of me
that just won’t stay dead?
I loved you but it wasn’t enough.
And I’ve mourned you now more than long enough,
but still I bear the scars of your torment
and the cavern your hollow romance carved into my chest.
For every word of kindness, there’s a thousand doused in hate
and I promise to ignite them, if only you set the date.
Bring your pity, bring your caution,
bring whatever makes you feel safe,
but if it’s forgiveness that you’re after,
then I’m afraid you’re too late.
Apr 2015 · 533
Luke Apr 2015
It’s **** or be killed and I found out the hard way. Now I embrace the future with both of my fists clenched. Years spent in sorrow have hastened the death of all good things inside of me and though I made it out alive, I’m still trying to convince these ghosts to leave. Teeth bared. Steady hands. Taking aim. Shots fired. Blow them all away.
Apr 2015 · 554
Luke Apr 2015
In and out of consciousness
I always seem to drift.
This isn’t a life I’m living,
this is a sinking ship.

And if I wasn’t the man I am
I’d abandon this all to the abyss.
Only one thing to pull me back,
a siren’s fatal kiss.

I’ve dragged my sorry soul
to the darkest of voids
and sifted through the wreckage
of what I watched you destroy.

And now your petty regret sinks its teeth
into all that's left of me,
it gnaws away and tears away,
until sanity becomes but a fever dream.
Apr 2015 · 648
Luke Apr 2015
Empty shell, broken vessel,
how else do I describe it?
The only comfort I have in this life
is that no-one will survive it.

If freedom is worth fighting for
then we’re living a deceit,
cause the only time we’re truly free
is when we’re six feet deep.

I owe your gods nothing,
now give me what’s mine.
I’ve kicked too many vices
just to lay down and die.

Your promises have been empty
from the cradle to the grave,
whatever hell awaits me,
just tell it ‘I’m on my way’.
Apr 2015 · 557
Luke Apr 2015
Everything comes down to this,
a broken hand, a bloodied fist.
I am beaten but I won,
though at what cost?
Give me the news my sorry friend,
how much have I really lost?

Somehow this is my war and I am its only casualty,
a faded number among empty statistics
of hours lost, spent and taken away from me.
I need sleep, I need something to **** these thoughts.
Cause time plus distance never equaled a ******* thing,
but a darker past to regret and a bigger **** pile to heave.

And push I do, onwards and up this mountainous regret,
where I will raise all of my anchors and bury all of my dead.
Apr 2015 · 717
Sink On, Sweet Abyss
Luke Apr 2015
This nightmare recurs, I’m sinking in the abyss and
the water burns my lungs, my hands are tied, I see the light,
it’s dimming. Somewhere up there above my head.

This nightmare occurred, sitting in the darkness,
couldn’t sleep, couldn’t breathe,
your arms around my chest.
Like the hangman’s noose,
your touch sends my heart to the gallows, again.

Is this love? Is this tragedy? Oh, I can’t bear the thought.
Is this love? Is this tragedy? You rip me apart, my love.
Feb 2015 · 330
Deep Blue
Luke Feb 2015
Upon this ship abandoned, I pariah, ambitious conqueror,
ventured into your sea, heading for your coastline
anchored by a sailor’s fabled dream,
that a boy returns a man and finds you there waiting patiently… for me.

But instead I found a darkness, the golden sands, a blackened beach,
my bones carried forward by the tide, hands stretched toward a paradise lost
and forever out of reach.

I was the Nemo of your heart, the captain of a vessel doomed to perish, wrecked upon
the shores of your shallow love, where I found myself captive to the cadence
of a siren’s soft vocal and slowly ripped apart.  

The stillness of your waters still beckons, a dream so serene,
But it’s the darkness of your deep that scares the living **** out of me.
Feb 2015 · 340
Chasing Ghosts
Luke Feb 2015
I crossed the plains, by myself, I braved the tempest,
carried forward by a promise that I would find you there
but your head and heart lack a center and so you shift like restless sands,
just when I think I’ve found my needle, you disappear into the haystack again.  


And this loneliness you left me has consumed me like a hunger,
I feel it salivate as it tears the flesh of my mind asunder.
Your emptiness has taken me to the depths of the blackest sea,
whose mouth floods into twisted rivers and lays waste to everything inside of me.  

But I’m done playing slave to your specter,
mourning what is and what was never meant to be.
Who knew chasing your ghost could take so much
so much life out of me?
Feb 2015 · 372
Luke Feb 2015
My thunderous heart roams a dead and forgotten land,
longing for her voice, to guide it home
from its shipwrecked solace in the sand.
She is a burning visage, the only vision at my godforsaken end,
a haunting future foretold by a bitter poet’s tongue,
the teeth marks upon a feeding hand.

To dust, I crumble as I claw my way back to her open outstretched arms,
She was a lighthouse upon the horizon, a beacon silhouetted against the dark,
But she isn’t real.
And if I can’t believe in her ghost long enough to find my way back home,
would I not be living proof that in the end we all ******* die alone?

We all die alone.
We all die…
This is the first poem in a collection called "Sink On, Sweet Abyss".
Jan 2015 · 278
The Walls of This House
Luke Jan 2015
Mother sits inside the kitchen by the window and the scene,
a cold cup of coffee in her hands
picturing what life should have been.
A stack of paper at her elbow,
unpaid bills and final requests,
this is all that father left her,
his legacy and all its debts.
He was a drunk but mother loved him,
up until the very end,
even when he’d come home late
and make her victim to his hands.
What she would give now to feel the bruises,
well she would give almost anything,
for every night of violence
became one of love in the end.
And mother sold her bed to keep the roof above our head
and now she sleeps upon the couch, at night, haunted by the dead.
His old shirts keep her company now that father is in the ground.
Look around and see the sadness that holds up the walls of this house.
Jan 2015 · 417
Sink, Sank, Sunk
Luke Jan 2015
Hello love,
this here is my resignation,
my last letter of good intent.
I’ve followed you all around your stars
but now I’m exhausted and I am spent.
So broken is my body and my head is a ******* mess,
I feel everything and nothing at once,
but I wish I couldn’t feel this.
I wish that I was dead.
I am sorry that I have to do this to you,
I wish we could work this whole thing out,
but it’s been so long since your head found the clouds
that I’ve lost all hope of it ever coming down.
And I don’t know what possessed you to think I was so durable,
I was never meant to bend to that degree,
but I was too busy navigating your tempest
to quell the one inside of me.
Luke Jan 2015
We haunted the boulevard in silence,
lamplights dull in the night of June,
eyes wide like walking disasters
our lights died inside of us too soon.
Our bones they ached with every footstep,
somber skeletons stained with broken flesh
monuments to the scar tissue,
that’s all that we had left.

You cried then started laughing,
but I could hear the pain inside your chest
as you couldn’t remember the last time that you had slept,
slept in your own bed.
And you said “I miss home, wherever that is.”
I wish I could’ve told you it was inside your heart,
we were a long way from there now,
but at least we could’ve had a place to start.
But where do you start when picking up the pieces?
When there’s oh so many shards?

And oh the shards they no longer fit together,
worn away by what they are. And what they are,
are just phantoms of who they used to be, our fathers, our idols,
they threw our lives across the lawns of the houses
we’ve lived in since the day that we were born.

The same hands that raised us couldn’t tame us,
I’m sorry we weren’t born to be like them
they’re our fathers, not by circumstance,
but just like everybody else,
even our parents leave us in the end.
But without them we wouldn’t be here,
I wouldn’t get to hear you laugh,
I wouldn’t get to see the warmth in your tragic eyes
or even hold you in my arms.

And I would trade a thousand lives
just to spend this moment with you,
dying on the boulevard in the dull lamplights
of this night in June.
This one was inspired about a video I watched on Youtube of a gay teen coming out to his stereotypically religious parents and of course they react extremely negative to it and of course it gets violent, his Dad calls him horrible names and even assaults him. This one is about two kids kicked out of their respective homes for going against their parents wishes. The underlying story is centered around gay kids, but in a way, it can represent any teen whose been kicked out of home for not conforming to their parents wishes and ways.
Luke Jan 2015
Underneath the coffee table, the throw rug collects dust and memories.
Twenty five years she’s had that mat and it hasn’t moved an inch
and there are creases where the coffee table sinks.  

Underneath the couch is the toy car that you lost at a distant age,
and on the shelf sits all your favorite books                
of which she read to you every page.
And by the couch sit her glasses, faux gold, frames engraved,
cloaked in dust atop the nightstand that her husband built before his grave.
And above the fireplace is a photo of you when you were young,
the anchor in her darkest storms,
you are the reason she never came undone.
And beneath that are your parents,
their names carved neatly into the box,
but you don’t talk about them anymore,
your heart barely remembers the loss.
But her heart never forgot.

There are creases where the coffee table sinks holding onto faded caffeine stains
and the pungent death of cigarettes she smoked on the night that you left
still lingers all the same.

This is where you never listened.
This is where she used to sit.

This house is a mausoleum of her life, love and effort.
She did her best to keep you safe, so how could you forget it?
All she wanted was to provide and in the end you left her neglected.
And there are creases where the coffee table sinks, right where she left it.
Have you ever been to your grandparents house and noticed that nothing ever seems to change, like, the couch has been the same way for years, the rug the same place, the photos the same arrangement. This is basically about how certain things change, but not necessarily for the better.

— The End —