gd: Poems

gd Jun 2014

I wonder if you stitched yourself into my skin
when I wasn't looking because I am still catching whiffs
of your scent as if it sat right beside me
with a glimmering smile and kind words to say.

But I'm exhausted and worn out
like that faded red t-shirt you stopped wearing,
and I can't help but think if it's because my scent still lingered
when I first fit my arms through on that fall afternoon.

Except I know you've probably washed it
once, twice, maybe thrice for good luck
but unlike cotton,
your etched aroma isn't so easy to scrub out.

Trust me, I've tried.

gd

Voltaic.

gd Feb 2014

Voltaic.

Your touch used to feel like lightning; igniting my entire body
as if it were christmas lights you meant to wrap around the entire world.
Your fingertips followed dance routines on my arms,
leaving behind a path of hot embers right down to my thighs.

You set off fireworks in my chest the moment our skin
brushed against each other's ever so slightly;
those Roman Candles were almost lethal,
but it seems your extremities could revive me even after death.

You'd trigger static and sparks that would light up my eyes
and leave a tingling sensation through every limb.

I don't know what you did, my dear -
you materialized me -
made me inanimate just by your touch,
only awakened by the currents you transferred through your palms.

It's as if I were a light bulb,
plugged in forevermore in the socket of your grip.
You were electricity, darling, and I was water; my voltaic shock was inevitable.
You were fire and a sweet, sweet tempting bomb of affection I couldn't resist -
                        tick,
                                 tick,
                                          tick,
                                                    tock.
With all that energy we were bound to burn out.

But, in some attempt of insanity, you reached for my hand today
and I swore I saw those sparks start to pour out of your fingers once again.
And I almost reached out, drawn in by the flare
and ready for the charge to hit me like a murderer's bullet

almost

but instead,
I flinched.

- g.d.

Your touch no longer electric.

Waiting.

gd Mar 2016

Waiting.

I promise I will amount to something.
I've just lost pieces of myself
falling over rocky roads and
stumbling down fields of insecurities;
I've drowned under seas
of suppressed momentum
and constantly cower from my priorities.
But I promise I will amount to something,
I've just lost too much of myself in the process
that I haven't enough to show you
yet.

gd

{I am at war with myself}

White walls.

gd Apr 2014

White walls.

Why
do I get
this feeling
that just because
you knew our love
could survive the plague,
you purposely began
an epidemic in my
heart, stabbing
me with
poison
just
to
see if
we could
survive that
too only to realize
too little too late that
once the skin was split by a
knife you wrap it up and leave
it there, not pull it out and
walk away but I can't
seem to pinpoint
the precision
of pain you
chose for
me
because
the former
and the latter
just feel the
same.

gd

Wildfire.

gd Apr 2015

Wildfire.

I think I've met my match.
I've already lit the flame and
caught myself playing with its embers.
Now I know why they all said to stay away
because its call is mesmerizing,
almost hypnotizing.

It's got a radiant smile
and soft eyes
that are so smooth you'd never think
they could pierce your heart
until the blade is already three inches in
cutting off another piece of your sanity.

And you think that maybe if you just sit still
the fire will just burn
until it burns out
but the warmth is almost too tempting.
Sparks are flying and instigating
the ringing in your ears.

It's almost deafening
but its hum soothes the lining of your soul
and as much as you know there's still time to run,
the blaze is far too strong,
far too touching,
far too alluring.

And it's got all the potential to turn you into ash,
to crush the remnants of yourself
into feathers of debris.
But it's still has that radiant smile
and those stupid soft eyes
that resist any attempt of peeling your gaze away.

I've met my match.
I've already lit the flame.
I'm playing with fire.

And nothing will ever be the same.

gd

{uh oh}

Wish 1: to be clueless.

gd Feb 2014

Wish 1: to be clueless.

Ignorance
can truly be bliss*

because I would have rather
lived my whole life
thinking you were a master
at making ambivalent choices

instead of knowing
you purposely chose
to choose your pride
over me.

- g.d.

Word vomit.

gd Mar 2016

Word *****.

I don't even know where to begin:
it's as if the moment I laid my pen
to scratch on the surface of these
papers my mind decided to  g o
blank, vanishing like a magic trick
and leaving me speechless and dis-
appointed because I have so much
to say - I have so many  w o r d s  I
swallowed  d o w n  when I should
have just let them  f l o w  o u t , like
word *****, that fills every inch of
this room that I have been quarantined
in. I should have let it fill the silence
and drown my thoughts out because
I have stayed much too long inside
my  m i n d  and it has not done my
emotions any  j u s t i c e . I have stayed
much too long within my  p r i v a c y
that I have no sense of direction publicly.
But on an entirely different note, I have
chosen to write today. I have chosen to
pick up this pen and make a mark, even
if it is barely legible.

{I still cannot string them into sentences}

You, my love.

gd Nov 2013

You, my love.

It seems I’ve managed to memorize your scent as if it were the first day of summer
With the flowers bloomed and the sun blazing high.
I’ve memorized the curve of your smile and the dimples under your lips;
Your beauty simply captured by every blink.

You’re everything I’ve ever wanted;
Every song I’ve longed to hear,
Every word I’ve wished to whisper in your ear
In the way that could only be known as love.

You, my love,
Are the definition of sly smirks and sweet smiles.
You, my love,
Are the beat of my heart to the rhythm of your breath.

You, my love,
Are the raw emotions I’ve never felt and have never believed to be true.
You, my love,
Are what defines love at its finest;

In its truest form,
In its naked and raw emotions,
In its fruitful desire for your hand in mine
And our lips attached and your arms encircling me endlessly

You, my love, are the things they told me about but never warned;
You are the risk
And the f
                      a
                            l
                                  l
And the rush in between.

You, my love,
Are worth every breath.
And look what you’ve done: just by your scent
You’ve managed to wrap me right around your finger forever.

                                                                                                        - g.d.

— The End —