Jun 2014
i.
Promises lay broken at our feet- like the bottles of verity that you mix with your orange juice. We're resting in pieces; and these, our shattered dreams, lay like the dejected children of the sun- too far away to glimmer bright enough for our admiration. We were a star, baby, and I ruined it. I tore my calloused digits right into the core of your humanity. My eyes screamed of perjury while yours, open and pure, were infallible. I should not be allowed to cry rivulets of tears as I write this, and one might assume that it is because I am scared of this truth that fate lay heavy on my breast- but, no. At once I believed we were one, and I wish you would not ache from this torture as I do, dare I part my lips.
ii.
When I get on my knees at night, hands folded in prayer, I ask the Lord to shed some of his forever-shining light β the light of the sun, the essence of the universe (or so some say) down upon my weary shoulders. You never once asked why every morning started with a shot of liquor but had you, I would have exhaled the truth like a balloon with a pinprick of a hole punctured into its (my) flimsy skin. Your eyes, the same eyes I have worshiped for years cut into me with a truth that is poisoning in its potency (almost like the bottle of whiskey that has become my best friend). You think youβve hidden the truth from me behind a veil, whispered lies escaping your lips- but we were once one, I know you better than I know the drum that beats in my chest. I look at you, at us, and think that even a dying star is beautiful.
Promises lay broken at our feet- like the bottles of verity that you mix with your orange juice. We're resting in pieces; and these, our shattered dreams, lay like the dejected children of the sun- too far away to glimmer bright enough for our admiration. We were a star, baby, and I ruined it. I tore my calloused digits right into the core of your humanity. My eyes screamed of perjury while yours, open and pure, were infallible. I should not be allowed to cry rivulets of tears as I write this, and one might assume that it is because I am scared of this truth that fate lay heavy on my breast- but, no. At once I believed we were one, and I wish you would not ache from this torture as I do, dare I part my lips.
ii.
When I get on my knees at night, hands folded in prayer, I ask the Lord to shed some of his forever-shining light β the light of the sun, the essence of the universe (or so some say) down upon my weary shoulders. You never once asked why every morning started with a shot of liquor but had you, I would have exhaled the truth like a balloon with a pinprick of a hole punctured into its (my) flimsy skin. Your eyes, the same eyes I have worshiped for years cut into me with a truth that is poisoning in its potency (almost like the bottle of whiskey that has become my best friend). You think youβve hidden the truth from me behind a veil, whispered lies escaping your lips- but we were once one, I know you better than I know the drum that beats in my chest. I look at you, at us, and think that even a dying star is beautiful.
This poem is nearly a year old- a collab featuring a really good friend of mine. Decided to upload it since we just finished another one. Still one of my favorites.
