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Grey Aug 2015
warmth in the evening when my mind wanders
a stuttering beat to which my feet cannot dance
the sound of a sigh on the wind
and the sweet scent of salt water as i walk to back home

a fire roaring on the hearth
and the soft touch of lips on my forehead
the heavy scent of coffee on sunday morning
turning around the car at the rumbling of my stomach

the sharp taste of blood in my mouth
the fiery rush of it under my fingers
the weakening flutter of you heart
your life in my hands

a chroí
my heart
beating far too fast
as i think back on the things
i took for granted
Grey May 2015
The sound of my love is a harp
you plucking my heartstrings until they make fine music
as I sing a melody along with your skillful fingers
How naturally you played
as if you didn't know what you were doing
You do know, right?
Oh
I see
And the music dies off but still I sing
the melody that you played in my heart
to the empty expanses of the
life I lead
And I remember the taste of cheap wine and cigarettes in your mouth
although we were both too young to drink
and I remember your voice singing softly in my ear
songs for someone else
and I remember the touch of your hands on my sides and on my face
and the taste of my own blood in my mouth from your clumsy teeth
and I remember crying out the window while looking at the skyline
and the new year's fireworks that weren't ours
And still I sing your song
but not for you to hear
to preserve the melody you stole from my heart
Grey May 2015
If you close your eyes and listen closely
you can hear the ocean in my lungs like a conch
After once deciding that I was thirsty for something other than life
for control
I drank the sea like a cup of fresh black tea in the afternoon.
And as my lungs stilled and my eyes slid closed
I felt the pull of the current
and the call of the one who calls us all to the sea
lost sailors we are
with no boats and too many troubles
She sang into the night, voice old and wise
voice lulling and moving
voice the sound of home
and waves crashing upon the shore
But as I saw her face, I saw she disapproved
as the men carried my body through the stark whiteness of bliss
And she sang a song of sadness for me
a song of wanting but wanting for little
a song of praise for the golden house of the sun in the morning
that reflected in the waves of her eye
And I felt the ocean pull me back out, back to this world I am not sure I love
away from the one who still calls to me
and I listen quietly
still
and silent
except for the sound of the ocean in my lungs
inspiration:
Ikue Asazaki - Obokuri Eeumi
Grey May 2015
He once asked me, “Do I dare?” To which I reply
with quivering hands and wide open eyes
“How do we disturb what it is that we are?
After all, you yourself are not unlike a star.”
You see, all our lives we spend burning away
We give others light till the end of our days
And everyone else is of star-matter too
so can you not say that the universe is you?
So yes, we must dare to disturb our own minds.
We never know what possibility finds.
It may be art or a universe new.
The outcome depends on what you will do.
So dare if you wish and dare if you will
and dare the world until you have had your fill
because one of these days all our daring must cease
as we turn back to star-matter, reaching our peace.
And we flow on and on to the end of all time
and the universe finally frees our minds
and the mermaids are singing a song just for you
and there’s marmalade, teacups, and fresh peaches too
and the crest of your life has just truly begun
because if you’re a star, then you can be the sun
and the light you give off is a beautiful flare.
It inspires a young boy to ask, “Do I dare?”
Inspired by T.S. Eliot's 'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock'
Grey Mar 2015
This was a bad idea
I tell myself as your words bite into my skin
poison deadlier than that of a thousand vipers
And yet I brought this upon myself
At least that's what you tell me
I sit, staring
The words will only constrict me if I try to fight
Consequences
Some of these I deserve
Some I do not
Some I do not receive
I am grateful for those fleeting moments,
the times where you tell me you're proud of me
Those seconds when the pain eases,
when the voice in my head is quiet
It's funny, it sounds like you
You tell me I don't listen, that you bear no weight in my life
yet you weigh my life down, drowning it until ink runs off paper
and into my mouth
as I ***** up lessons and salty sea water
But you are deaf to my words
While your voice booms in my ears like the voice of God
I mean nothing to you
These words mean nothing
This was a bad idea
I tell myself
Grey Mar 2015
if i am a writer, you are my pen
i find you, i use you again and again
and it isn’t fair to either of us when
your ink finally runs out
if i am a singer, you are my voice
i can’t help but need you, i don’t have a choice
and who’d think that i’d want to laugh and rejoice
when I find that you’re suddenly gone
if i am a painter, then you are my brush
i try to deny you, you tell me to hush
and who’d think that i’d ever love you this much
to lose you, and just leave you be

watercolours

they were never for me
i tried my hand
please understand
it was too good for me

if i am a peasant, you are the king
i have no value, you have everything
yet sadness tainted you, you felt its sting and
you settled for me
if i am a star, then you are the sun
you dazzle and awe and inspire everyone
and i am hidden and noticed by none and
i’ll never be the moon
if i am a sketch, then you are divine
even michelangelo made nothing so fine
though we are both bitter as mulberry wine
my love is sickeningly sweet
if you were just you and i was just me
you’d find someone else you’d want me to be
i know that it’s harsh, but that’s reality
you always push me away
if i was just me and you were just you
i would still love you, i know that you knew
and she wouldn’t love you as much as i do
but i guess that means nothing to you

you were never for me
i tried my hand
please understand
you are too good for me

— The End —