Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
kyle-kulsethPoems
I know this foreign method      made my throbbing veins its home 'cuz the familiar's not familiar      and I'm not fine           lest I'm messed up on wine.      And 9/10 of all the times I've tried to crack a smile since I lost you have turned out as half-assed lies. I wander streets, worn out, while I wonder where you are and what you're thinking about while      you drive down Henderson...           I'll try to dry out           from time to time         but fall back into bouts        internal I'm interred in        eternally--and I'll never win them.        I'll. Never. Win them. Not without...           Sorry... I meander through months while      you walk through my mind --and I'm glad if you're happy?--      but you were quite angry     with me that night I took      and torched our collection      of 5 years' shared memories           QUITE ANGRY              with me.     And the things you said were mean           but you meant them. And you were right About how wrong I was how bad I am, and how I taste like lemon lies on the tongue.      You were right.      And I'm drunk. And sad and sorry and selfish and stupid and absorbed by a salted skyline of cold, purple steel           every night. It ***** You teach kids for a living, about the age of 9. Me? I try to dry out now and then, time to time, but it's hard. And you're far. And I'd still come if I could,      but it's hard      following this heart      when it's buried      at the confluence      of the Red and Assiniboine           Rivers. Beneath The Forks... And that heart? Like the ground above it,      it's covered with ****** commercial architecture and the clothing of bureaucracy,      but ****       we had fun there. Didn't we...?
0
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 1:47 PM UTC
The Forks
I know this foreign method      made my throbbing veins its home 'cuz the familiar's not familiar      and I'm not fine           lest I'm messed up on wine.      And 9/10 of all the times I've tried to crack a smile since I lost you have turned out as half-assed lies. I wander streets, worn out, while I wonder where you are and what you're thinking about while      you drive down Henderson...           I'll try to dry out           from time to time         but fall back into bouts        internal I'm interred in        eternally--and I'll never win them.        I'll. Never. Win them. Not without...           Sorry... I meander through months while      you walk through my mind --and I'm glad if you're happy?--      but you were quite angry     with me that night I took      and torched our collection      of 5 years' shared memories           QUITE ANGRY              with me.     And the things you said were mean           but you meant them. And you were right About how wrong I was how bad I am, and how I taste like lemon lies on the tongue.      You were right.      And I'm drunk. And sad and sorry and selfish and stupid and absorbed by a salted skyline of cold, purple steel           every night. It ***** You teach kids for a living, about the age of 9. Me? I try to dry out now and then, time to time, but it's hard. And you're far. And I'd still come if I could,      but it's hard      following this heart      when it's buried      at the confluence      of the Red and Assiniboine           Rivers. Beneath The Forks... And that heart? Like the ground above it,      it's covered with ****** commercial architecture and the clothing of bureaucracy,      but ****       we had fun there. Didn't we...?
#relationships#the#nostalgia#conversation#canada#manitoba#winnipeg#forks
kyle-kulseth
Written by
kyle-kulseth
M/American
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 1:47 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem