I would find a softer way to say,
I love you.
like dog years,
I am sorry
I hope you didnt misunderstand me
Did these poems give you glee?
My my, dear boy
A poet doesnt need to love to write about love,
This is how we breathe
Dont, take it personally.
You look like the man I love,
but you taste like
guilt, regret, and sadness,
my favorite concoction of all
You knew I was a poet, before you knew my kiss
You knew the way to become the ink in my pages, was to break my heart
You knew to become this poem, you needed a fire to start.
And so you did,
And so you did.
You pulled, the ***** trick.
I wake up
groggy, grainy, confused
with a taste of disdain on my tongue
I tilt my head
the only speck of magic is the sunlight bouncing off your brown hair
my sadness watches you longingly
it is enough to start the day.
i could search for metaphors
more words to describe this pain
little haiku’s, saying
i love you
i hate you
in simple words, you cheated on me,
and became the king of cowards when you cried to me, as if you had done nothing
We are no longer strangers, I say, as I hold my own hand in comfort.
We are friends, I say, as I weep away the past.
We are home, I say, as I finally smile, I am home.
We write about love,
like it is here, like it is whispering to us.
When most, who write about love,
are writing love,
You thank me,
6 months too late, but still early in my eyes
and I want to thank you,
look a lot like the tears I want to cry.
My eyes wont budge, this heart is angry,
But my fingers type like I've forgiven you.
I, of course, was done with you
My poetry, on the other hand
She had, some of her own plans
Her own things to say, her own hurt to bleed
I said okay, I’ll hold you, until we breathe
i used to think
my intimacy lied at the tips of your fingers
stimulated at the touch
but one night, i took my own
i asked them, why not?
they answered, as my legs spread apart, and away, from the thought of you, to the thoughts of myself.
you dont need him/her, the intimancy was in your palm
I throw my almost lovers like crumpled paper in the corner of the room, I aim for the bin but lean ever so slightly to the side so it won't ever go in.
Tip toeing back every now and then to un-crumple them and read through every crease of what could've been,
of course, its no good, again.
Thrown right back into the pile of whats no good, but here I have a fragile heart that wants the creases to change the story.
Here I am,
Here I am, wishing you would.
I'm your least favourite dish on the table, and i'm the one your mother makes everyday,
knowing one day you'll willingly pick up the spoon and
take a bite of whats good,
whats always been good for you.
Take a bite, go on.
giving you my love on a platter
feeding a child the age old truth
as he reaches out, for a young, sweet, sweet lie
what better does a child know anyway?
(she was your sweet lie, and now shes left you with tooth ache, it wont let you sleep, will it?)
It is an odd time, 3:39am, no words will suffice the hunger my heart explores, as it searches for ways to love again
I stood out, leaning over my balcony,
cigarette in hand, my fingers searching for something to hold, a little danger, a little danger
and I smile
I take a whiff of my solitude, and I smile at how much I enjoy it,
the slow fast thoughts I cant put to paper, this vain attempt at loving myself,
yet I smile as I write this because,
it has nothing to do with you
I dont care anymore if my art pleases you,
I dont care for my words to be an intricate weaving that will stay etched in your mind
I dont care if they heal you, hurt you
I make my art for me, it hurts and sometimes it heals
Sometimes it does nothing at all
It is art nonetheless
- A note from the poet.
I am searching for all the things I had to say to you
before dissapointment came and took them from my mouth
gave them to her
disguised as love letters, from you.
Here I am, writing poetry, getting over getting cheated
I dont think the universe is ready
for the poetry my fingers have stored in them for when you finally leave me, hell, neither am I
heavy metal tears wait at the edge of your eye
this heavy metal heart cries riffs of blood
the surface of your finger sways storms of stories on strings
every beautiful bruise makes a drop for you to sing,
into showers of stories,
into the hurricane of a song
sung every august, heard every june.
Of course, its about a boy i once loved.
"I sipped on your serotonin lips
like they were made to satiate my thirst
for a liquid i had only once drunk before
my palms like magnets to the moons crescent smiling down your face
my eyes sleep at the sight of stars hanging under my eyes
blue skies underline my waist
clouds of grey hang from my lashes
the blood of autumn covers my face in the night as i wake to another set of blue skies, divided, divine and heavy, opening portals of purple and green inside my skin
still sipping your serotonin lips, now serotonin arms and feet, do i dare fleet?
i change into the sky I watch, the dust on the street, the leaves i breathe, we look alike."
i am incapable of being left with myself
it is like being left
with a stranger
who am i?
I think i need
To dig deep in
And dig out these coffins on flesh and blood you have buried within my skin
you held my wrists and closed the caskets of promise,
Nailed them down in marriage of skin and blood
that now torn bleeds like the rivers ive cried
will you take these dead bodies back
do i burn them
click this lighter wont light up
a hot bath could melt the flesh off the bones of this deceased promise
this promise called trust
the promise kept was love
not love for me
but your tiny coffins
Go on. Take them. Take these bodies. Let me reclaim my wrists.
I don't need his hands
it was just fingers
It was just skin
if i closed my eyes i could pretend
i was him
simple but enlightening
This goodbye between us has begun to sound like
a string of
ill be back's,
i miss you's and
I will always love you's.
Goodbye has no meaning.
None at all.
Okay, lets say
for a few more decades
you said goodbye and i kept saying hello.
click click clicked
this ones for us,
the metal collides
starlight hidden within it I'm sure
the promise of a lifetime
"I love you,
click click clicked
the starlight bursts in fragments of pain, falling into a river of broken promises,
Love locks, 7 months between metal, and its gone.
my only soulmate
ive turned to her
pain, happiness, lies, truth
she has given birth to a cleansed version of me
every time i came
crying to her
and wrote her into my wretched soul
i know this,
you will never say,
Maybe this heartbreak should turn into lines of miserabley beautiful poetry,
i want you to read these words and see the 7 months we spent
squeezed between each s p a c e
i want someone to read this right now, and feel pain, utter, pure, agonising pain, to cry to the floor until they go numb.
I dont want beautifully woven miserable lines of poetry.
I want pain. I have pain. I am pain.
so ******* upset
every happy bone in my body aches, i ache.
theres the wild thought of this ending
and here i am,
seeing myself grieving the death of us
we are a person i have learnt to love
the friend who grows on you with time
Now, if she dies
Her love will hang over me like a heavy cloud filled with rain
Eventually it will shower memories over me
That will fall from my eyes as tears
The salt will caress my lips
And itll sting like your kiss on a snowy night
it will touch the tip of my chin
Roll down my neck
like your embrace
I will feel everything
feeling nothing at all
again and again
and as it rains over my eyes
I cant do this again. Please don't leave.
Listen to me
I am not writing to be read
I am writing to cleanse you of me
and the dirt
has shaped into letters as ink all over these pages
our love has its own mind..
Let it write
let it scribble what i could not say
you did not love to be left
and i do not write to be read
The fact that you love me.
Harsh words sound like,
Insults are merely,
In a language i am still learning.
The foriegness of being loved,
Is what keeps me here with you.
Realization has struck, but my body refuses to move.
Oh, what have i done?
its so much more heroic to say, i saved myself. but the truth is,
oh yes the toxic truth,
here it comes,
steady your morals!
he saved me, i was burnt to a crisp..
and he took my ashes and smeared them over his heart.
Now i can feel the life in me drumming its way through my blood once again.
I wish i could say i stood on my own two feet, but i have not
i am proud of him, for saving me.
If not me,
it will be
why should i be ashamed of that?
Of course, it would have been heroic if i had done it,
but i was never one to be
I want to lay between
the lines of your
and stay there until i hear your,
And as the rain falls in parralel lines against the window as we take flight, i
cant help but see
creases of your soul
hidden in the spaces between
Had a writers block but im back now.
(she has the sea beneath her lashes and fire burns above in her eyes)
with the eyes of autumn
little apricots burnt by fire
hidden in her skull
the song from a broken box
the light in a black wave
the flame from a broken match
where are you?
you look as the soul of a century filled with crippling heartache,
you look like a question,
i am asking of you now.
STOP MAKING ME PICK UP A PEN
STOP MAKING ME THINK AGAIN
STOP MAKING ME LACE MY HANDS TOGETHER TO REVISIT HOW IT FELT TO BE YOURS
STOP MAKING ME LOVE YOU
STOP THE SALT OVER MY CHEEKS FROM BURNING HOLES IN MY SMILE
STOP DOING THIS
WHEN WILL IT STOP
9 MONTHS AND 5 DAYS
WHEN WILL YOU GO
I BEG OF YOU
ALL THIS POETRY IS PATHETIC
I LOVED YOU
P L E A S E J U S T S T O P
stop not loving me,i need you to love me.
my poetry is bi polar,isnt it? one minute im angry and the next im begging for him to come back. Right back on the couch where we ate pizza and watched movies,i miss it.
i cant stop writing about you
my fingers are burnt by a storm of you
not one word
or one poem
how i feel
the words that exist
just dont comprehend
how i feel
i will make words
i will make phrases
i will make paragraphs of a language only you and i can understand in a font unimaginable by the human brain
a language from the heart
until each memory of us is put to paper
i will not stop writing
i just cant stop writing about you
so when you walked off into the dark in the whisper of my name
i am like dust in the dirt
i have no mass no weight nothing
just waves of pain around my heart
every passing beat is like the feeling of your hand within mine being carved by nails against a chalkboard
i was wrong oh
the heart feels,it feels everything,what it feels it pumps in the blood that walks over my skin like stale memories laced in hope
the only hope i ever knew
its been months
and i still sit and write about you.
we danced the waltz and
yes i stepped on your toes and missed a few steps
but you also held me in your arms and swayed me back and forth-
whilst you whispered sweet nothings into my ear
when we were at our happiest;
to the beat;
you walked out of the room and left me dancing in circles waiting for you to come back.
i called him my city
before our door closed shut,
he asked me one thing
"it is nothing close to the countryside" i said
-filled with wretched souls and dingy structures
dusty air and noisy traffic
ill always call it home"
****,maybe its horrible to be lost in the thought of you.
Leaving me relentless,restless to break free.
But isn't it magic?
the veins that never shook now tangle over and under the skin i was once within.
and no matter how many times i chased the thought of you i was tangled.
and in fact you did not take my heart. My heart is here, beating;alive. Taking it would've been easier to bare.
You took what i thought could not be taken.
You tangled me within me,
when all this while i thought i was with you.
No,all this while the only person here was me.
so thank you,
for showing me that i can be a tangled mess,
that my veins can create loop holes on the surface of my bones,
that i can change and adapt and grow and be anything but ordinary.
i hear the faint voices of my parents creep up my spine;
threatening to hurt those who hurt me
never to love those that loved me,
the contingencies of it all ablaze past me,
but i finally feel
what i couldnt see in their eyes;
They say theyll save you,and in the end you save yourself. It hurts to see them not being able to love you and the life you choose,to only tell you whats wrong,and not how you could too be right.
i hate it;
i ******* hate the way you hold me in your arms
-and make me feel like nothing could ever matter more,
and so i sat in the rain for hours
until i went numb
felt anything but your touch;
dancing on the tips of my skin
carving courtesies in the pores of my heart
and every drop burnt like acid
-because the rain was an intruder beginning the tango
when i had only ever learnt;
so then my bones chartered swiftly with the violin that was your voice and with the waltz that is this heart
this may be a bit confusing.
but simply,states that all of me was accustomed to him,and now the touch of anything but him,felt too foriegn to contemplate.
not all earthquakes
leave you shaken;
yet show you
-you had been standing still all your life.
(you were my earth quake,you shook life into me,and for that,i thank you. )
every ******* thing you said to me is hidden in the syllables of your name;
and every time i call out for you it all comes back rushing over me
like a storm;
it feels like electricity snipping onto every inch of my skin
seconds of pleasure;
a thousand minutes of pain
-but its worth it when you look back at me and i can see you feel the same.
Its not his name i call,
because his name within itself is now a feeling,
that i feel;
"you picked me out,
ripped from the core,
my soiled soul,left to be torn,
picked apart to pick your bones
you get,you don't
yet i lay on the floor."
You always want to be the chosen one,not picked,but carefully chosen. This is how i felt being picked apart,piece by piece. Never chosen.
we burnt out
drowned in the ashes of us"
Its like every relationship,of any kind,is a being of its own,and when it ends its as if it died,and therefore turned to ashes.
— The End —