Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2017
This clock smokes a cigarette
     that tucks itself into my nest of a jaw
          acting as a memento of my most cherished flaw.
I can hear Fool's Paradise calling to me;
     it's hollow promises idle above me until I fail to remember
          whether this is a wedding or a funeral releasing it's doves to me.
You're a modern desolate suicide
     with your insides filled with fearful and uneasy pesticides.

I'm too exhausted to lose it.
     and too inferior to choose it.
and the restless clock stays awake impassively with your ballad
     like a phantom of my pallid heart which feels eternally invalid.
I pace past pit stops but I never eat
     when I've lasted this long already.
You're a modern romantic suicide
     with a heart that has hung itself out to dry.

Sometimes my heartbreak brakes,
     snarling as it painstakingly falters like the moon at daybreak;
          stumbling across a canvas to its haunted nest
               and sleeping beneath these ten-thousand lakes.  
I won't let the shine blast my shade.
I won't let the darkness begin to fade.
I won't let the sparkle ride my mind.
You're so rustic and piously unkind.

Paramour, you're not abandoned yet.
You're scrutinizing yourself and you're far too unfair.
You've got your crown all tangled up
     and I wish I could make you care.

No Paramour, you haven't been abandoned yet.
It doesn't matter all you've endured.
It doesn't matter all you've observed;
     sentimental daggers still seem to lacerate your brain.
I've acquired my fair share of knives,
     I'll guide you through the pain.
You're not abandoned.

So abandon me when you're not alone.
Let's abandon me so you're not alone.
Give me your fists because you're staggering.
Let me hold you still because you're staggering.
Peyton Leigh Stille
Written by
Peyton Leigh Stille  Minneapolis
Please log in to view and add comments on poems