Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
I see you in the park. I want to look at you. You want to look at me. Our eyes ricochet off each other. I can't catch you looking at me. I can’t even give a smile to you. You’re Alcatraz and I’m swimming to your rocks and when I get there you'd rather stay in jail, kissing the walls. There is no you. There are a thousand yous. I know no you. I see 30 yous an hour. Where are you? Are you out there? You’ve got to stay away. You get too close and you crumble, or I crumble. Gravity sends two lives shaking into screws, identities unable to hold. But I could know how fragile you are. How you sit on an iron bench and open your long, dark lens to the ultraviolet April blooms. Shamble into my arms. I won’t laugh. I promise I won’t laugh. I’ll break your fall. It’s my mistake to think that you’re fragile, that you’re a flower. You are a flower, but flowers are only advertisements for the tree. Flowers fall away early leaving only the wide, armored waist. It isn’t you that will crumble. It’s only me.
0
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 12:21 PM UTC
Alcatraz
I see you in the park. I want to look at you. You want to look at me. Our eyes ricochet off each other. I can't catch you looking at me. I can’t even give a smile to you. You’re Alcatraz and I’m swimming to your rocks and when I get there you'd rather stay in jail, kissing the walls. There is no you. There are a thousand yous. I know no you. I see 30 yous an hour. Where are you? Are you out there? You’ve got to stay away. You get too close and you crumble, or I crumble. Gravity sends two lives shaking into screws, identities unable to hold. But I could know how fragile you are. How you sit on an iron bench and open your long, dark lens to the ultraviolet April blooms. Shamble into my arms. I won’t laugh. I promise I won’t laugh. I’ll break your fall. It’s my mistake to think that you’re fragile, that you’re a flower. You are a flower, but flowers are only advertisements for the tree. Flowers fall away early leaving only the wide, armored waist. It isn’t you that will crumble. It’s only me.
Shoyish
Written by
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 12:21 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem