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 Nov 2015 Douglas Chace
Kj
dating a writer
is like guessing the weather.
you think you know what you'll get,
but you never do.

you never know
because

she'll create a hero
from your weaknesses

and she'll write a great character,
from every last flaw.

she'll create a thousand plots  
from your worst nightmares.

she'll take every last thing you hate
and create something you'll love.

she'll turn your anger
into confessions of adoration,

and she'll make you,
everything you're not.

but worst of all,
she'll leave you wondering-
is it you she's in love with,
or things she's created from you?

but here's the beauty of it:

if you date a writer,
you'll never die.
Poetry isn't about the words,
Or the emotions,
Or sounding beautiful,
Or looking smart,
Or knowing big words
Like ephemeral.
It isn't about alliteration
Or similes and metaphors.
Poetry is about what it doesn't say.
The silence between the words,
That's what matters.
After one month together
You came up with an idea
“Let’s test our love for each other”
I thought, “Why not?”

It started with whimsical ways
You loved the way I laughed in the morning
I loved when you held me tighter when we cuddle
Then we went onto appearances

Oh I love the colors of your irises
Blue and green like the aura borealis
But they were dancing along to a somber song
Rather than a happy one

I brought it up
But you said literally nothing
Which says more than “nothing”
We got into a fight

The snow seemed to melt
From our heated discussion
I left
To let things cool

You stopped responding
To my messages
So I drove back
And opened the door

To the sound of our dog barking
I followed him
To the sunroom
With the vast windows

And there I saw you
Hanging lifeless
From the elegant maple
“What have I done?”

I dashed to you
A layer of fresh snow
Settled on your head
Under you was a note

Carved into the trunk
“I LOVED YOU THE MOST”
To this day
I’m still haunted

In that moment, I realized
That’s what happens
When you assign values
To something that cannot be measured
A LIGHT is laughing thro' the scattered rain,
A color quickens in the meadow;
Drops are still, upon the window-pane--
They cast a silver shadow.
When I was young,
I thought love was stupid.

Why attach yourself to someone with such,
aggression,
adulation,
addiction?

Someone gifted me attention,
though,
and I fell in this love.

I’m still not certain whether I was in love,
with you,
or the words you said.

But I was in the worst sort,
of love.

They didn’t love me in return,
I tried to convince myself that was fine,
I don’t need to be in love,
That’s when I learned.

I learned why love poems exist,
They aren’t for the lover,
No one wishes that type of embarrassment.

They’re for the author,
Because no one will ever know,
What your love feels like.

Except for you,
Only you.
I'm trying to get over someone as you can tell. Anyway please leave comments to help me improve or just what you thought of it!
 Dec 2014 Douglas Chace
Mariah
teeth
 Dec 2014 Douglas Chace
Mariah
i hope i left a gap in your life
the way losing a tooth leaves a hole in your mouth
and you keep running your tounge over
where it used to be
 Dec 2014 Douglas Chace
Mariah
you're beauty 'cause i can't escape you
you're time 'cause i can't erase you
and you're dreams 'cause i want to chase you
you're wine 'cause i want to taste you

you're death 'cause i want to dance with you
you're success 'cause i want a chance with you
you're danger 'cause i have a romance with you
you're heat 'cause i can't stand too much of you

you're light 'cause someday you'll blind me
you're it so i dare you to find me
you're chains and i want you to bind me
you're a map and i want you to guide me

i'm the ocean 'cause you can't tell where i end
i'm your lover when all you need is a friend
i'm a letter you forgot to send
i'm nothing, and that is evident

you're no good for me, this i know
all you will ever do is swallow me whole
and get away with a piece of my soul
but, my darling, i still fold

you're sand 'cause i want to sink into you
you're in my head, all i do is think of you
and i don't need to drink to call you
all i see is the month that spring brought you

you're a whisper now, i can barely hear you
and don't think for a moment that i will fear you
this may make you mad, but i no longer endear you
and so, farewell, i will shed no tears for you

— The End —