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I remember the first time you tasted champagne.
As the golden nectar effervesces down your throat, you whispered my name.
I raised an eyebrow and wondered why,
you said, “You’re everything this glass contains.”

They tell me the tale of Dom Pérignon
who said, “I am tasting the stars” after a sip of his own creation.
You’ve always loved me like I tasted of stars,
and I loved you like you put the stars where they belonged.

We made the mixture of magnificence,
until we were twisted too much on the shelves.
Pop, bubble, hiss--- all shaken up
everything we bottled up spilled down until nothing else is left.
I was champagne until I became your problem.

And somewhere in between the lines, we got lost in translation
I didn’t know where to find you, didn’t know how else to meet you halfway,
but there was pain whichever path I take.
I was already walking the track for the exiled, I didn’t realize right away.

Others hide a ring in the glass,
But we put the problem in the champagne, babe.

Soon it will taste differently to you,
All sweet and sparkling—no strings attached like it used to.
But the stars are no longer where they used to be.
Every sip will wash down any trace of me,
until you forget.
But it will forever linger on my lips;
and I’ll always remember it all too well.
One of the most unique compliments I received from my ex-boyfriend was he compared me to a glass of champagne. I was thinking about this when I had my eureka moment for this poem. I continuously listened to Taylor Swift's song Champagne Problems while writing this which further inspired the direction of the poem. I was champagne until I became his problem.
This is going to be the worst poem you’ll ever read.
Because it is written with frustration,
Made during a time when a writer is at loss of words.
This poem is an effect of writer’s block.
No rhymes, no style, no meter.
Just a collection of verses put together
By my mind aching to bleed on paper,
But couldn’t, these thoughts are too scattered…
Too many…
All trying to get out the door at once,
And so the words that are meant to describe them
Can’t go through.
I read my previous poems and I lament
Over the fact that I can’t write the same way again.
This is the worse poem you’ll ever read,
This is the worst poem I ever wrote,
Made entirely from the worst torture for any writer.
Let us pretend you were the sailor and I was the sea.
Let’s pretend I have the heart of the ocean inside my chest,
And in my mind, the world’s deepest, most treacherous trench.
Let us pretend your ship has sailed
Through my fingers to my heart,
You dropped your anchor at my centre,
Stayed with me and danced with me for days that never seemed to end.
You built a mark in me and created a home while you anchor stayed at rest.

Yet, imagine how it seemed when thunder and lightning struck.
And the waves that brought me to keep you away came up.
Let us pretend your ship nearly fell apart from the horror that I really was.
And you desperately tried to pull your anchor back up…
Away from the tragic travesty you just now understood.
We’ll keep pretending if only we could.
Though all of these were metaphors with no end,
The pain of how you tore your anchor from my heart
Was no pretend.
I'd like to be alone,
but I don't want to be lonely.

I'd like to be in hope,
but I don't want to be hopeless.

I'd like to be in love,
but I don't want to be broken.

I'd like to be sad,
but I don't want to be weak.
For when I'd like to be 'me', but I don't want to be 'her'.

Last night was just like every other night.
Drinking to bring myself to the point of ‘alright’.
Liquor, tequila, beer, *****, and so
Wine, champagne, and my favorite Moscato.
I drown myself in all these alcoholic pools
There at the deepest end, I feel completely whole
And while I survive this murderous *****,
I still find myself breathless, looking at you.

My head fumed with heat,
But it wasn’t the liquor
It was the blush that rushed to my cheeks.
I slurred all the thoughts in my drunken mind
Knowing I’ll have more courage in these nights,
Than during sober daylight.

“Babe, can I call you babe?
Forgive me; my organs are filled with ale.
Don’t worry I’m not a person of harm.
I just want to tell you the contents of my heart.
Any minute I’ll ***** all the beer
That had me this wasted,
The way I always do
But I wouldn’t waste any minute that I have
To tell you I’m in love with you.
Every bottle on that shelf, I’ve already kissed,
but I easily forget how they tasted.
I never knew what it feels to kiss you
But **** it
You’re hard to forget.
It needs twelve glasses to make me tipsy,
Yet I’m completely drunk with your face,
And all it takes is one smile for me.”

You were so patient every evening.
Laughing to all my words and you thought I was joking.
And I acted like I was, the next morning
Pretended that I never remembered a thing,
But I knew every word I said, I meant it
And I find myself drinking every night
Just to let you know what’s on my head.
Still I couldn’t wait
For that night that I will gladly shake
The tight gripping hand of sobriety in midnight’s wake
Just the same way that you always do
And when that time arrives,
I will look at you straight in the eyes
And without the stench of liquor in my breath
I’d tell you “I’m so **** in love with you.”

On the night that I had real courage on my shoulders,
I found myself in front of you without a glass between my fingers
As I’ve practiced, I looked at your eyes.
Ready to say what was on my mind
But I saw something familiar,
The same red, teary, drunken orbs I had every night.
He looked at me with a twisted beam,
And I knew completely well, that then he was drunk with gin
Still, “I’m in love with you.” I stupidly told him.

When the sun rose the very next day,
I waited by the bench for him, to hear what he had to say.
It wasn’t a surprise to me, yet it truly was a tragedy
“Even when I’m drunk, you’re a hilarious joker” was what he told me.
I wrote this at random...
The world told you I was dead,
They cry every twenty ninth, calling out my name---
"Vincent! Dear Vincent!"
as if their voices could lift a soul away from death.
Why didn't they shout my name before I left?
Each passing day I ask,
a question running through my mind but never left my lips
Yet no one would even hear me now nor even then...
Why couldn't I be loved, when I lived to have it felt?
Why did love look for me, when I was locked away for sure?
Loneliness was my disease and I never found my cure.
I watched the stars every night
waiting for all these glittering lights to hear my cry.
Now as I stand on the star's side
Hearing their sad mourning sighs
I now realize why...
They couldn't give what don't have,
even the shooting stars were as poor as hags.
And yet I ask the world again,
Who told you that I was gone and deep beneath the cold hard ground?
I am not dead.
Yes, I, Vincent--- Van Gogh it is to them
I say, I am not dead.
I live in every soul that's been forgotten
Every person in the street who Love has never met.
I live on teenagers on showers asking them selves "until when?!"
Every broken man drowning himself in liquor bottles---
I live in the lives of every soul that sought for love and never found them!
I am alive,
I am there as long as more people are asking "why?!"
I live while so many people stopped trying.
I am rooted in the hearts of those whose hearts are heavy---
heavy from the emptiness of living.
I stand beside every man ready to leap off a bridge and let the current carry their tormented fears.
I am alive,
I am full of wasted lives.
And as long as there's another---
who never found the love he should've been offered,
I say, I am alive!
Let there never be another who left
never having to be embraced by the sweetest feeling ever felt.
Never let anyone leave,
While they're bringing me.

Let there never be another cry for Vincent.


Tribute to Vincent Van Gogh (Died on July 29, 1890)
In a spur of curiosity, I read about Vincent Van Gogh
His life, death, and all that lay between
And in stumbling upon the knowledge of my sudden interest
I see that his last words were,

"This sadness will last forever."

The ache of them resonates all too well and
an overwhelming sensation of familiarity fills the cavity of my chest

I think about all the things that could of been said and
decide none of them would probably be sufficient to save him
But I still mourn the unspoken

If only I had the chance to tell him
No, it won't

If only I knew him to say
No, it doesn't

This sadness is not permanent, I promise
Yes it remains,
Yes it is still there always, living comfortably in the shadows of our figures
But you learn to see past it
I wish I could tell him that permanence does not exist
That it is an idea man-made
And we are simply living for today

It's funny, how someone who created so much beauty could not find any in himself
In painting a future, ending seemed more promising than hope
So in that wheat field his chest kissed the bullet of a relvover
And he walked patiently towards death

Van Gogh,
Didn't anybody tell you it gets better?
Didn't anyone say that even if it doesn't, you can?

Van Gogh,
Don't you know that nothing lasts forever?
That we are merely existing to make it to tomorrow?

I know this world can be cruel
I know that eventually flowers turn to dust and the sky turns black at dusk but even you could see stars in darkness
You made an entire galaxy out of the night and we are still finding ways to admire its beauty

I know the sun can be harsh some days
I know the air can be too cold for motivation on others
I know sometimes getting out of bed can be a battle with yourself, seeming impossible
I know how it feels to be heavy with the weight of too much
And I am sorry that you couldn't bare it all

But this sadness wasn't made to last forever
Flowers will regrow and bloom again even brighter than before
The moon still shines against a dim canvas
Winter is only temporary and the gloom will pass when the seasons change
Before you know it spring will be here

I wish you could have stayed to see it come,
It is the only certainty in this eternity.
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