Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Sleepwalkers
don't stop
dreaming

even

when
the bed
is made.
All it takes to build a better world is a dreamer.
How can
I forget you?
Forgetting
you
is like
forgetting
how to
breathe

you come so
naturally to me,
you are part
of me,
an
atom
in my being,
a vessel
of my blood,

how
dare
you say
that
I
will forget
you,

you are the
only
thing I
haven't
forgot.
You barged
into my
heart,

not
bothering
to take
off
your
shoes.
Bobbie McCord Nov 2016
donald-trumpaphobia
college **** culture
women's rights
global warming
social inactivity

ISIS and extremists
melting ice caps
who crash into deep water, gone, undone
lack of civility in millennials

technology enhanced cyborgs
whose eyes have been surgically sewn to a screen
family issues and self-created isolation
coining yourself the black sheep
to compensate for the need of attention

even if its the wrong kind
one upping to feel important
even if it means leaving your sister in your shadow
the need for narcissism and self-obsession
self-praise and prickly conversations

held at arm's length because we can only stand to be around you
for a few minutes at most and
I yell at you but you do not take in my words
you listen not to understand but to reply

talking to you is more work than talking to a brick wall
which you've build around yourself because if no one can get in
no one can hurt you

and we get it, you're serious about global issues
and we respect it. we encourage it. we praise it.
but haven't you heard
that too much of a good thing... is bad?
and too much of a bad thing.. is, well... good.

not.

you can only build walls so high
before they tumble down and destroy that around them
spewing debris in all directions like a flamethrower with no limit
a tongue of fire burning everyone around
that not even water can heal, leaving scars

reminders
that although you have been quenched, rebuilt, moved on
your words, your actions
they live on, physical reminders to the pain you put me through
although we sit and laugh, I remember

sooner or later you have to know
that living is not dependent upon pointing out
every social issue and making future plans
complaining about all the world's problems
and rambling until your mom makes you stop

a big part of living is enjoying it
the carefree sunsets with toes covered in sand that sticks
and midnight premiers at harry potter movies
enjoying life is dancing in the kitchen with your lover
while rainbow colored pancakes cook

and running to make the winning goal as the clock ticks to zero
blood pumping through your veins
even when faced with death in a close call car cash
life speeding by in a heartbeat
only then can you appreciate that you are alive

live and love
don't waste it all criticizing and changing all that's wrong in the world
because you are only you
you cannot fix everything
Bobbie McCord Feb 2016
Tear me down like thin paper screens
and set your torch to my wreckage
But what you don't see as you turn your back
Is the fire that burns inside ME
spitting and twirling and singing into the winter-night chill: I will rise again
Bobbie McCord Feb 2015
I gaze at him from across a sea of bowed heads.
The steady, calming voice of prayer echoing off
stained glass windows, which bring in a soft rainbowy light.
The lighting is soft, intimate,
but this distance between this man and I is not.
He is too far away.
This distance, an alluring mystery
...but also a heartbroken torture.
I long to touch this man I do not know.

Who is he?
Broad shouldered, mischievous grin, with
warm eyes that melt like caramel,
I wish I could look into them, if only for a second,
just to see what kind of soul resides within this handsome man.
For my mother always did tell me: "eyes are the windows to the soul".
I wish I could run my fingers through his hair,
which is dark, like his humor. Or so I've heard.

He walks my way, maneuvering the clusters of people expertly.
He is dressed up, snazzy like always...
as he walks by, his eyes catch mine
and his mouth quirks up
at the corner. He winks at me,
leaving me praying for the ability to breathe right.

Oh, how I long to know this man,
and kiss this man, and hold this man,
and lay in his bed in the depths of night.
His fingers entangling in mine like fresh-water kelp,
his lips my savior from drowning in the loneliness.  
Nothing else but the cricket's chirp,
moonlight's gleam, and sheet's rustle,
and the comforting warmth of his body next to mine.
I allow myself the pleasure of basking in such a bliss.

Until a blurry sun bubbles up from the horizon,
and I wake
to a pair of curious eyes drinking me in.

I wouldn't mind getting drunk off of him. No,
I would not mind one bit.

Maybe this is just a dream...
somebody pinch me so I know this is real
and not just some fantasy.

Reality pulls me back into the chasm of the church,
and as he is preparing to exit, he looks back
and we share another glance,
s t r e t c h i n g across the pews,
a lingering,
sparkling,
moment.
Searching for the cause for such curiosity
in each other's eyes.
Trying to make sense of it, I tilt my head down,
allowing myself a moment of thought.
My head snaps up, courage pulsing through my veins,
like I have just been cleansed, I feel refreshed.
I start making my way towards the doors to ask him his name,
but to my disappointment...
he is gone.

This mysterious, entrancing man has walked out.
The brightness of a rising run enveloping him,
leaving me with a mouthful of unsaid words
and a mind full of scattered imaginations.

I kneel down before God,
and pray for forgiveness
for lusting after a stranger I know nothing about
while in His presence.

And with that, shaken to my core,
I put on my mask that conceals my deepest emotions,
and go about my day like nothing ever happened.
Inspired by my boyfriend ♥
Bobbie McCord Feb 2015
Growing up is a metamorphosis.
You start out small and new,
exploring the wonders of this world,
adventure awaiting 'round the corner.
But eventually the day comes when
you begin to change; and with it,
shed all of what you used to be.
Forget all the days spent in the past
to become something even better:
something you were destined to be.
Free to fly and do as you please
and chase dreams on glassy wings.
You have become
a butterfly

You cannot say you were you same person you were even a year ago
because life is always changing,
and therefore so are you.
Next page