Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Theresa Marie Sep 2016
even nights like this seem redundant
sleep escapes and once again I find myself
staring at my bedroom walls
trying to grasp the beauty of anything

my lips are numb against ice cold glass of something strong, yet tasteless
tastes like memories, fading
tastes like you but bittersweet

I close my eyes
I am walking on thin sheets of ice inching forward
I hear your laugh
echoing, slipping away, sliding under
I sink....dark....cold...engulfing
I cannot breathe
I've learned to love a love of suffocating
brown eyes pulled me far too deep
I won't make it back up for air
I learned to live a love where missing you is involuntary
I now think to breathe

but darling
I have shaky hands
you have eager eyes
and darling
the light begins to dim
I was not ready for our demise
I
kept trying
this love was dying
darling you have eager eyes but they don't want me
they want something else
always wanting something else
someone else
someplace else
not here
darling
were you ever here
posted this on youtube as my first spoken word poem
eager eyes // spoken word poetry
Theresa Marie Jul 2016
Made love to the puddles
Formed by imaginary friends
Imaginary rain clouded minds
Imaginary people
Imaginary boundaries
Keeping ones heart away
Ripping
Tearing
Bursting at the seams

Water pours into a glass
A pessimistic stream
Filled to the brim
But claims a half empty life
Uncovering skeletons
Digging up a half buried knife

A body a waterfall
Pressurized, cascading
A river of consciousness
Floodgates, brainwaves
High tide, kisses the shore
Like clasping clammy hands
Nervous souls
Too afraid to try
Too afraid to dive
Not afraid to die
Theresa Marie Jul 2016
Sipping something strong
through commercialized styrofoam cups
Tighten your jaw
Steady your lips
We're all parasites
Attaching our hips  
Breathing in moonbeams
collecting dust
Wrapping our heads around
Whirlwind
Motion sickness
Theresa Marie Apr 2016
we have yet to close the eyes of our youth
we stick their hands into a boiling ***
cover their ears from the slight moan of truth
feeding sweet nothings till their teeth rot

age seven
yet petrified of existence
bliss was tangible in glimpses of innocence
Theresa Marie Apr 2016
we are a paradox
we are artists
we are not original

we take
we create
we make sense of things
we are not original
we bleed
we remember
we cannot fall asleep

we are not original
we are artists
we are a paradox
Theresa Marie Apr 2016
ever feel so scraped off the earth
as if a surface was mopped clean in your absence
ever feel life was a mistake since birth
you bury your hands under blankets and sheets

high 70's the sun is shining
but im pessimistic moonkissed and turning pale
chest rising and falling in a fitted box
a resting coffin in fort Lauderdale

a maddening mood
meditating to a simpler tune
immune to absolute ammenitiy
we lost our minds searching for serenity
Next page