Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Sugar, salt, and all of the old pain
I put them in the bottles of wine you'd leave behind
You used to say that I made you feel like cinnamon and honey
My kisses soft as velvet
Fingertips like drip coffee brewing in your bones
I was the poet
But I found salvation in your words
You spoke freely and eloquently,
Like the way your mouth moved all the way down to the tips of my toes

My language is the sea and you took me closer
Where you could add salt to all of my wounds
And I thought, pick flowers and he will see the sweetness in you
But you never saw the sweetness in me
Even when you called me sugar
Even when I was the honey that made your cinnamon sweeter
You said I was like coffee, but that was before you made me bitter

I picked flowers by the sea today
Sea glass crackling beneath me
A remedy crackling inside me
Sugar and salt and the sea,
I made a boat out of your bottles
And let them take the pain away.
Repeating the same periods of boredom,
Ignited by the fuel of depressed emotions.

Forming urges to escape a boring lifestyle,
Cycles from dissatisfaction led to alcoholism.

Drinking to flee typical days of unplanned time,
Incinerating absolve that plagued tragedy by scars.

Artificial joy lasted a few hours inside my brain,
As phases of recurrent afflictions persisted torment.

Young adulthood lived on principles of enjoyment,
Seeking thrills of unjust mentality by regretfulness.

Years of despair led to progress being stalled,
Hitting a brick wall by force of costly consequences.

Punishments derived from indulgements ached,
Agony of mental illness harmed by unnatural chemicals.

Change occurred when growth desired concepts,
Maturity pushed repeatability into passionate activities.

Now devoted to new hobbies entertaining contentment,
Destined to a route where character excels excellence.

Honored by the improvements gained by determination,
Self-discipline underlines efforts through moral revisions.

Since the poisonous toxins are vanished from my body,
Liveliness drove glorified paths that earned commendation.
Life, tragedy, hope, spiritual, emotion, destiny, pain, sad, inspiration, addiction, experience, harm,
The power of music
and friendship
heals dead connections;
a well-meaning member
of a jam session
offers me a guitar.
I politely decline,
embarrassed by my disability,
and they shrug.  Your choice.
The familiar curves
beneath my arm
like a woman
from my past,
my amnesiac left hand
reaches for the
muscle memory
of fifty years' practice.
After an agonizing minute,
the G chord miraculously plays,
as I played it at five,
the three big fingers alone
strong enough to hold it.
The switch to C impossible;
so I play a variation.
Doesn't sound bad with the group.
My God, I might play a D7
by the next time it comes around
in the song.
The gang is playing old standards,
Ohio State music;
three chords and a cloud of dust,
which suits my present skill(?) well.
I almost cried when a few tunes later,
we sang A Horse With No Name
to my accompaniment.

Beethoven was deaf, yet heard the Ode To Joy.
Hawking is paralyzed, and travels the universe.
I have three good fingers,
and no good excuses.
Process launches the path to determination,
Starting by concepts through brutal struggles.

Purpose is the theme for motivated discipline,
Leading to pledges from propelled aspiration.

Optimism prevails by the glory of anticipation,
Promoting opportunities through linking hope.

Commitments from potential are justified desires,
Empowering goals that setup successful achievements.

If you're prepared for the challenges of difficult hurdles,
Progression in life will flourish into accomplishments.
What do i say?
Im utterly speechless with her.
I eyes are locked but i don'tknow what i should do.
My heart races at the shear thoughtof telling her.
Tell her how i think she is amazing?
What about how i cannot sleep without thinking of her?
Should i dare to say what i truly feel?
I open my mouth but i cannot speak those words.
The words that would set me free and release me of this hold.
Oh how i urn to tell her those exact words that make me weak inside.
I really want to tell you your beautiful, smart and amazing.
Tell you everything you truly are, but most of all,
Tell you i love you more than words could ever describe
Life is dull
Days drag on like a rocket in the sky
A trail of smoke left behind as a reminder of its linear trajectory

Life is thrilling
Picking up speed as it approaches the intended target
Exploding on impact with a brilliant display of fire

Life is over
Nothing remains but charred debris scattered and unrecognizable
Another rocket is fired into the sky
Next page