They tell me about craft beers and climbing
the world to sip on adventure - to understand
and praise what we sip and why we sip.
Wisps of hair and crinkled eyes, I begin to
blush inside. The glint of forever gleams off
your finger and I want to bury my ideas
with you - if only we met sooner, another time,
a different world, good luck.
You sit there, swimming in man made pools
of bourbon - clutching her hand - and I pray;
bite my lip and grip my heart that you don't
drown my sunflower. That you survive and
she grows...remembers to grow...that I don't
****
She storms in, screaming songs of thunder
and lighting the room with rage. Powerful,
I think to myself, as you slander the cursed
perceptions of your own insecurities. The
dull lamp sinks me further into the couch,
harboring lonesome anxiety. Sometimes I am scared
to speak
and say what you are avoiding hearing.
No more.
You're running towards me, my name echoing
from your lips past the stretch of concrete
between us - kissing warmth into my mind.
I want to explode into stars with you and
never part again, fix all the cracks I made.
My arms cradle your soul, for one last time,
and the disappointment of my distance slices
our cracked hands: I'm sorry I wasn't there.
He interrupts our conversation from a
foot away, through someone else. I smile,
coward. You still fear what I was to you,
even in the onset of something new. I
wonder if meeting your eyes will change
this strange silence. But I close them instead
and hum my own dance until I remember
your lurking body. Silent, silent silent, as
I scream at myself.
Everything died, but your mornings have
just started. You all know nothing of the
bottomless gin and shards of glass I
ripped my eyes out with. Wandering down
to the steaming coffee and banter on daily
dissatisfaction - I become lava. No...dripping
blood. Slowly, so thick it travels centimeter by
millimeter tainting the surface below. Surprising
its peers, fearful for some. And you ask, hey are
ok?
Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 3:51 AM UTC
They tell me about craft beers and climbing
the world to sip on adventure - to understand
and praise what we sip and why we sip.
Wisps of hair and crinkled eyes, I begin to
blush inside. The glint of forever gleams off
your finger and I want to bury my ideas
with you - if only we met sooner, another time,
a different world, good luck.
You sit there, swimming in man made pools
of bourbon - clutching her hand - and I pray;
bite my lip and grip my heart that you don't
drown my sunflower. That you survive and
she grows...remembers to grow...that I don't
****
She storms in, screaming songs of thunder
and lighting the room with rage. Powerful,
I think to myself, as you slander the cursed
perceptions of your own insecurities. The
dull lamp sinks me further into the couch,
harboring lonesome anxiety. Sometimes I am scared
to speak
and say what you are avoiding hearing.
No more.
You're running towards me, my name echoing
from your lips past the stretch of concrete
between us - kissing warmth into my mind.
I want to explode into stars with you and
never part again, fix all the cracks I made.
My arms cradle your soul, for one last time,
and the disappointment of my distance slices
our cracked hands: I'm sorry I wasn't there.
He interrupts our conversation from a
foot away, through someone else. I smile,
coward. You still fear what I was to you,
even in the onset of something new. I
wonder if meeting your eyes will change
this strange silence. But I close them instead
and hum my own dance until I remember
your lurking body. Silent, silent silent, as
I scream at myself.
Everything died, but your mornings have
just started. You all know nothing of the
bottomless gin and shards of glass I
ripped my eyes out with. Wandering down
to the steaming coffee and banter on daily
dissatisfaction - I become lava. No...dripping
blood. Slowly, so thick it travels centimeter by
millimeter tainting the surface below. Surprising
its peers, fearful for some. And you ask, hey are
ok?