These are the kind of words
That no one sings.
This is a theme
we shouldn't repeat.
What we have is
Just a passing moment
Only a short poem
I hope you never see.
There's nothing beautiful about this
Nothing beautiful about sin..
But you make it look so heavenly.
Tainted so my broken heart bleeds
Symphonies in every beat.
Every word's a sword.
Is it suicide then
When I tattoo myself with my pen;
Write my pain into permanence.
My late nights spent stuck in bed;
Yearning for a warmth that you never send.
I watch the coming dawn from the safety
Of my covers I-I-I'm tired from a sleepless night.
Happy that None can see me cry when the sunrise greets the new days sky
And I'm not feeling right
Cause I been left alone
To face a world
If I called you'd answer right?
If I text you when the moon's high,
And the darkness has settled,
And my mind meddles
With the idea of you,
You'd reply right?
I told you I need you…
Is that too desperate?
But I understand your objections
Of who I am.
For I now know
Know why the caged bird sang...
And why he fell silent.
Hundreds of poems
Were never enough.
So I gave up writing
For someone who'd
Depths; the essence,
Of my words.
I didn't know what it was
About you that drew
Perplexed, I couldn't figure
It out why you were
Stuck in my synapses.
I couldn't have known
Without seeing it
Then we met again
And you smiled and I knew
Welcome to my airspace.
How do you like the way my lightning
Strikes your weathervane?
The way my thoughts rain down
On your rocket ship?
The way the moonlight hits your skin
When the clouds clear
And you've landed on my mindscape.
Do you like the way my words gravitate
To you and wrap you in flames?
When's the last time the person
In the mirror called you beautiful?
Or is loving what you see
In the reflection still difficult?
My heart become expendable,
Used up to and past the point of being dependable
I have no use except as a pin cushion for all your anger.
My expiration date has long passed overdue and
yet here I am, with my heart falling to pieces,
struggling to pick up the shambles,
my mind a lightning storm as I scramble
to make sense of this deep and eerie sadness.
What can I do to relieve myself of this anxiety
this pain this death,
there are no solutions left
only one question left to ponder.
When did I become your fool?
I am a fire.
I burn through the space and time
Only To watch roses rise,
Like colored smoke,
Ashes to spring
Into full bloom
For what other use
Could there be for my high energy
But to blaze through the world
And fade like fire? To dissapate
And leave roses in my wake.
But without fuel how could I burn hot enough?
I hardly ever write a poem a poem that's focused more on myself. This is an attempt at that.