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Dear muse
I cant stop it
Stop myself from loving you
Youre on my heart and in my mind

My heart
Still aches for you
Bleeds for you and my
Mind has attached itself to
Your memory

In the worst ways
Im suffocating and
Killing myself waiting

Dear muse
I dont know what to think
I needed you to be there
So you decide its
Best to disappear
You hold them all at arms length
and hug yourself into yourself
and you stand there, so remote,
so angry that everyone backs up
behind the yellow line.
And you sew yourself up
and put yourself in the freezer
and you don’t miss it,
don’t want it,
until there’s wailing in your ribcage
and you’re sitting, looking
at your own reflection
and it suddenly hits you
how pathetic it is.
So then it starts to scare you
and you feel it, tossing
restlessly inside you
and you want it to go back to sleep.
But what are you going to do,
because it’s frightening, really,
isn’t it and you’re not going to do anything.
You know it and you know it,
and you’re going to end up so alone,
and you know it and you know
you’ve done it.
So then you think you’re in the brown space,
slipping between the folds of the real and
hasn’t anyone ever told you there’s only
so much air to breathe in the liminal?
But you know it and you know
you’re going to be so alone
and maybe you deserve it
because you made it
and you know it.
So it scares you and you
don’t do anything about it,
because what’s life anyway,
but a game of trying not to
cry into books at train stations.
I haven't uploaded anything in a while, so have a quick poem. I'm working on a collection for uni right now, so I haven't done much other poetry that's decent and can be shared tbh
I don’t know if it’s just me or
The six bottles of beer I just had,
But this body misses that body
And I know I could be drunk
To want to kiss your lips
And unfold you
like paper cranes
with worn out creases
but too beautifully assembled
And I am sure I am sober
Enough to love your crooked smiles
And wicked grins
That my stuttering and stammering
Broken “I miss you”s
Would show I am stumbling
For sentences cohesive enough to stick
To the back of your mind
Only to recall and rehearse my drunken stupor
At 1 AM when you accidentally wake up
And you can’t remember the difference
Between wanting and waiting
There's an old grave yard up on the hill near by
I like to go there and sit and look at the tombstones that are so old you can't see the names on them
Because I'm morbid I guess, I feel at home there
Today I went there
I took some of my little resin fairy folk and gnomes
I've been strangely obsessed with those little resin, fake people as of late
I made them a village
With their very own cemetery and fake dead things
The fairy princess is a **
Promiscuous princess is knocked up and doesn't know who the baby daddy is
The ****** gnomes pass her around like a water **** at a party
The fairy Prince is gay
Anywho,
I put them in a paper bag with my whiskey and went to hang with the dead for awhile
I played pretend with them for awhile, the dead and the little people
Then I drank till I started to remember how my life *****
And how alone I really am
I burried my face in my skirt
And cried
Sigh. Yep folks, it's not very poetic, but it's today.
I went to the fridge
to get my beer
but oh dear
I spilled my beer
all over me
Mu sweet Bud
your odor I reek
So kiss my cheek
Get drunk with me.
..
I long for an ideal love,
But I cannot spin on a reel,
Tape myself with magnetic
Energy, that lights up rooms.

I pine for an ideal love,
But I cannot enter a screen
That flashes imaginary truth
In dimly, dear lit theatre halls.

Why is pain so real, so concrete?
Why is joy so abstract, illusory?


I ache for an ideal love,
More actual than godly stars,
Lovers living within golden light,
Always faithful, printed on film.

*Why is isolation so universal, so dark?
Why do only movie idols glow, spark?
eyes, hair & smile
laughter
she ensues the ambiance of the moment
radiant shape

captivated by her aura and presence
her touch exquisite to behold
fragrance of a scent of love
always there to help you when you fall

shelter lies dormant unto it's beckoning flow
a beacon of light to a hurting world in need
can't help but come up with an explanation
ravished from her complexion on her skin

the tight sequence of her lips
wisdom to behold
when I look deep into her eyes
it is then I see a future

filled up with hope for a better tomorrow
she's all that I long for
all that I need
angelic foot steps to her door

the sweet caress oh her warm smile
to know all the great while
a sweet vision of a sparkling array of blissful care
flip flops, roses, chocolates & poetry
It's hard to build a fire right,
with no tinder-
very true,
but not so for the poet
who's smoke and cinder,
through an through.

Ma Cherie © 2017
Huh? Lol ; ) life keeping mye away poets sorry! I'm trying! ❤❤❤
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