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DM Pierce Sep 2013
i close my eyes to see her
because that's the only time i do.
i dream of what we could have had,
the world against just us two.

now my will is gone
and i'm failing
to find strength outside of her.
my world in her eyes but her face is turned
everything's burning and i've nowhere to run.

you loved me then, so love me now,
we used to say "i love you" like a vow.
you can' have forgotten all the years, all of me,
our soft, quiet first kiss or me climbing that tree.

but if you don't miss me,
if the anger's too much and
the love's not enough, if the thought
of living our lives separately doesn't
feel like a noose around your neck
then,
i'll move on.

for you, i'll move on.
or just step back and
let you, at least.
my soul met its mate
and is dedicated.
you might not be mine,
but i'll always be yours.

so if you ask if i'm alright,
i'll say i'm just fine,
because the burden of this love
is now solely mine.
DM Pierce Dec 2012
I don't want to get started; I don't know if I have what it takes to stop it, once life is static no longer*

Transient winds dislodge cobwebs from closets--
Silk mist that drifts
(Like half-daydreamed doves from our
Starlight and eyelash ark
Half-reclaimed by the sea)
Across our
New car smell, white-wash wall
Stumble before the fall,
Pick each other up and kiss the gravel off,
Apartment.

I scream "apartment",
To the concrete and steel
Of her skin, a bridge that's
Closed as tightly as her
Proust pressed flower lips.

My faults are
Tattooed across my skin
In full color comic strips.
I tongue the interior dents
Birthed when
She taught me
What apart meant.
I started writing this as I was getting in bed, and got caught up in it. It might be a little rushed because I'm lusting for some sleep, but I like the skeleton of it. It continues a loose narrative I've been following.
DM Pierce Dec 2012
I can't take this city much longer,
It's wrong here; I feel it watching and
See it in your misty eyes when
You lie and say it's nothing,
You're great.


There's a haunting, a menace.
Something we've disturbed or offended
Is taking an extended vengeance,
Trapping us in a poetic wilderness
Lacking invention or vision. Days
pass like weeks and I make ropes out
of bedsheets, marking runaway routes
on maps before they even halfway
Reach the golden delicious dead grass.
DM Pierce Dec 2012
This small boat of mine is battered and chipped.*

And
I don't know,
Who I am, where I've been,
Why glacier shackles crown my wrists,
How I survived this gunshot wound shaped like sin,
Or what it means to not disappoint my father,
And be a ****** Man.
DM Pierce Dec 2012
I'll follow you, darling,
I'll follow wherever you may lead.
Until the sky burns green and
And we've seen trees grow legs,
Just to fall to their snapping knees.


I'll follow you, darling, I'll follow you,
My heart is locked to yours.
Attached by a weighty chain,
That runs under my criss-cross scarred
Paper skin like iron-link veins,
A spiderweb of rust that aches on rainy days.


I'll follow you, darling,
If you'll but do the same.
If I were to leave your side,
Would you call my name?
When you noticed me not existing next to you
Would you feel anything?


More than us, I want you to just
Please, feel something.
Nothing amazing, but hey, it's something.
DM Pierce Dec 2012
Drifters, sick with Now,
Swell and crowd the Elm Streets.
We, the self-anointed secretaries of culture war,
Parallel-parked car poets trapped in suburbia,
We claw our generation forward.

We seep from shifting city to evergreen forest, to
Seek answers from the grave-stone gods before us,
Learn of what they knew of man--
His vacuous constructions and his ash fortunes,
How to be martyrs and what makes us worth it.
DM Pierce Dec 2012
He sees the world as her backdrop,
And loves her wholly.
She knows that and wants to love him back, but
All she can feel is lonely.

As he sleeps she cries in
Tight, silent heaves in rhythm
With his chest as he breathes.
His face is lit from neon light,
Slipping through a slit on the strung-up sheet--
An eye to the street,
And to everything that's beyond this life that she leads.
But she needs him and
Please, she begs, Have him
Hate me, at least.  I'm weak--
I'll linger until he throws me away,
Because at least then I can say
That it wasn't my choice, but
Everything must fade.


She goes on a walk every night now,
Riddled with complexes and smoking,
Eyes roving with 2AM mascara,
Wearing a spring dress in dead winter.
Head down in a crowd, aware
Of herself existing only when men stare.
They crave for her, she craves for him,
Her sadness, a narcotic magnetism.

She drowned off the coast
Of the island in her kitchen.
She weighed herself down with
Her faults like mountains and
Yellowed ambition.
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