we were all born from
challenged ancestral thought -
refracting in such a way against
our flimsy souls
that would
build us up gradually:
(from the drowning
beta-fish to the asphyxiated
dove).
showing us how absolutely
okay it was
to recognize
a distant gaze belonging
to one on the brink of another
terribly lonely silence.
coupled with sighting
a trembling bone structure --
we could find yet another
sign of “Get Me Out Of Here” or
“Those Walls Better Keep Their Distance”
without one or ten stigmas attached to the core.
auto-pilot would really do us all a favor if
we could think objectively for more than
a few seconds: throw a side of coping mechanisms
into the mix while we’re off creating the perfect
human. but god, just save more than a handful
of our loves tonight.
if only we could learn to note
the difference between a
barely-there sigh that screams
“This Is Only A Yawn” vs.
“More Than A Coffee Crash”
perhaps we’d all find each other well-off
and striving for that sense of unimaginable
hope we can see every poet clawing for;
trapped in the depths of their
own abyss. they can’t find
the EXIT sign. can you even
salvage a reading light?
this world can only flourish
outwards from here on out:
I swear to you.
if only we can pry that mind
open and teach it to love
a little bit more than
the revolving planets
in their universes.
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 1:32 PM UTC
we were all born from
challenged ancestral thought -
refracting in such a way against
our flimsy souls
that would
build us up gradually:
(from the drowning
beta-fish to the asphyxiated
dove).
showing us how absolutely
okay it was
to recognize
a distant gaze belonging
to one on the brink of another
terribly lonely silence.
coupled with sighting
a trembling bone structure --
we could find yet another
sign of “Get Me Out Of Here” or
“Those Walls Better Keep Their Distance”
without one or ten stigmas attached to the core.
auto-pilot would really do us all a favor if
we could think objectively for more than
a few seconds: throw a side of coping mechanisms
into the mix while we’re off creating the perfect
human. but god, just save more than a handful
of our loves tonight.
if only we could learn to note
the difference between a
barely-there sigh that screams
“This Is Only A Yawn” vs.
“More Than A Coffee Crash”
perhaps we’d all find each other well-off
and striving for that sense of unimaginable
hope we can see every poet clawing for;
trapped in the depths of their
own abyss. they can’t find
the EXIT sign. can you even
salvage a reading light?
this world can only flourish
outwards from here on out:
I swear to you.
if only we can pry that mind
open and teach it to love
a little bit more than
the revolving planets
in their universes.
(c) ophelia annaliese 2k15
this poem won me a writing contest in school. unedited. not really my best at all. but i still don't hate it.
