Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Kyle Dedalus Oct 13
I have run out of reasons to hate myself tonight
I'm sure I'll wake up with more in the morning

But for now, a stony silence has fallen upon my brain
so otherwise self-obsessed with self-hate.

I do not recognize the stranger in the bathroom mirror
and although he appears too tired and sad
to be any sort of handsome
he doesn't look as ugly
as the man I normally see standing there looking back
always so tired and sad and confused
and ugly.

So ugly.

So ugly, save for tonight.
For I have been set free from those intrusive spirals
the burdened repetition of every unfortunate thing
the burdened repetition of every petty thing
the burdened repetition of every monstrous thing
the burdened repetition of every made up thing
I have ever said, done, thought,
or been forced by demonic circumstance
to bear witness to.

For once I do not dread the thought of another day.
I am not crippled by questions of how exactly
I will grind through it all.
All the things that I must do
that I will inevitably not do.
All the promises that I have yet to make.
All the promises that I have yet to break.
All the lies that I tell myself and others
so as to briefly pretend
that I am capable of living
that strange thing
called life.

I am sorry.
I am ashamed.
I hope one day to be forgiven.
Or at least I hope for more nights like this one:

far too sad for sadness
far too tired to sleep
far too unhinged to remember to forget
that everyone, myself included, deserves to be loved.

I have run out of reasons to hate myself tonight
I'm sure I'll wake up with more in the morning
Kyle Dedalus Sep 8
You said that we were the best of friends
But then me met our bitter end.
You said you saw me, honest and true
Yet you ran from the broken and blue.
You said you loved my troubled mind
You said said I was ugly, sad, and unkind.

You said I was your soulmate
But you don't have a soul

I think you just loved having a lover
That you didn't have to love.
Kyle Dedalus Aug 28
we meet
in the cracks between
the love you lost
and the love you're
walking away from
we meet
in a dark quiet refuge
of cold secrets and comfortable silence
a sad romance world
where you don't love me
like I love you
and I convince myself that
that is okay
so long as you're next to me
and maybe
we might get to meet again
one last time
before you change your mind
and walk away from me too
but at least
I knew that it would happen
that I would be alone again
left only to feel grateful
for that crack in time
where you loved me too
before you realized
that you didn't
Kyle Dedalus Aug 23
scarlet lies
bloodshot eyes
broken bench where bats fly
perfect night imperfect still
soft embrace on jagged metal
a night that ends in moans
until we depart to
homes that are not homes

I said I loved you
you said you were falling in love with me
which is different

I said I hated everything
you said you didn’t hate wildflowers
Kyle Dedalus Aug 6
...and we drank by the river
because we had nowhere else to go.
I fought back the urge to tell you
that I loved you.
Because I was finally learning
that love isn't always enough.
Kyle Dedalus Jul 12
I saw you in the morning
you hadn't slept all night.
You looked so tired but
said you felt alright.
I knew that was a lie
you lie all the time.
You can't hide how you're feeling.

You said you felt so empty
at least you told the truth.
You said you felt so sorry, well
all of us do.

You said something that
sounded too sad to be true.
You said life is just a game
and then you lose.

I saw you in the evening
it was clear that nothing changed.
You said that you felt better but
acted kind of strange.
I could see it in your eyes
how you didn't want to cry.
I don't know what to say.

Disconsolate perspectives on what I
can't see.
There's a splinter in your nail bed
and you never can sleep.
There's a broken, sad statue of who you
used to be.
Now you're left to imagine what
it's like to dream.
https://soundcloud.com/dedalus-cfb/empty
Kyle Dedalus Apr 23
For Alexis Miller

Oh, what a beautiful quarantine
Oh, what a beautiful plague.
I've got this horrible feeling
Everything's going to change.

Or so I sing, out of tune
while you attempt to work from home.
I appreciate that you typically tolerate
the annoying things I do for your attention.

And I find comfort in our morning quarantine ritual:
Where I bake you a two dollar pizza for breakfast
and let the dogs out for our morning cigarette, thinking
about all the writing that I should be getting done.

I had big plans for this poem.

I've been working on it in my head for weeks now.
Or at least, I've been thinking, proud, about the title --
LOVE IN THE TIME OF COVID-19
-- reeling in the pseudo-intellectual gratification
of such an utterly predictable literary reference.
I haven't even read Marquez.

I had big plans for this poem.

A public decree of my love for you.
An artful exploration into the depths of our passion,
our committment.
An explanation, no! An exploration
into everything that makes us feel
so much less alone since finding each other.

I had big plans for this poem.

I was going to write things like:

Be not so long to speak
I long for you
Be not so hard to breath
there's much to do.

Or maybe:

the silent refuge of pale blue iris
and bloodshot white
tells me not to fear
the chaos outside.

I had big plans for this poem.

But, quite frankly, the death toll has risen
to the point of no longer wanting to romanticize
this catastrophe.

Everything is terrible.
People are dying.
People are dying alone.
Everyone is afraid to breathe.
This all feels like a bad dream.
Don't violate my six feet.

I had big plans for this poem.

But that's okay, because I can always write you another one.
And I will.
And I love you.
And maybe a little romance isn't in bad taste.
Maybe it's all we have to distract from the plague.

I love you
like I love
the home we've built
that we're not allowed to leave.

I love you
like I love
the unemployment money
that I have yet to receive.

I loved you
for so long
from such a distance
before we finally
had our day.

And now you're
the only person
in my life
that's less than
six feet away.
Next page