I don't get it
I don't understand
You could let go
But I still can't
Nothing to grab
In my needy hands
Ash falling down upon
Burnt, barren land
The buildings are empty
The people have gone
I'm lying in the street
Inhaling the calm
A silence so loud
It violently screams
Even in your absence
I'll never be at peace
I talk as if there's something to say
I act as if you're watching
Though you've gone away
But pretense gives me purpose
And in fantasy I live
Just a small glimpse
Exhaling a thought
I closed my eyes for a moment
And upon opening you were gone
we show, misunderstood
except by our creation.
Dwarves compressed by pain,
displayed in open sky
where we hide
all but what we think is light.
But life is in the dark
between us all.
Somehow we see
Inspired in the moment I remembered those two shooting stars from last night.
Home is where the lights in the city
shine as if they are inside of you
emanating from your stomach
traversing the spaces between your teeth
until they reappear against your lips.
Home is where the gates of the city
stretch out like arms
and cradle your shoulders
inviting you in to stay awhile.
Home is where the fresh snow
you could kiss the ground
you’ve missed it so much.
Home is the lover and the beloved
though you know you will see it again
you are never ready
for the weight of its embrace.
I would have loved to have kissed you through
your polo shirt, to have felt your leather chest
on the palms of my hand, get my tongue caught
in the feeling of yours. I bet you would have held
my face, one of those guys, who cradles cheekbones
like pottery. I imagined us, feet tangling in sheets
as we wrestle each other in a small bed
pinning arms against the headboard, pulling ribs
closer to the other so they can connect
in their respective grooves. I would have loved
to have played catch with your smile, circle
your eyes with my own, nibble your shoulder
as we collide. I would have loved to,
but I'm still being haunted by ghosts in good underwear
who gave me more than just a body
for a month or two. By boys who swore
that the time wasn't right now, but it was coming
as fast as it could. I've been sliced open
by flea market promise rings with crooked diamonds,
and I would have loved to have used
you to stitch me back together. But you
are just a boy with your parents wallet,
sweetness baked into tight khaki's
and some really cool vans. You are not
the remedy I attempt to find in Bacardi bottles
or a blank document or even cups of tea.
You are too good for this part of me.
I'm sorry for teasing you with my jeans
and the bit of skin I let peak between
my belt and the rest of my blouse.
Imagine what that would have felt like
on your belly while the November breeze
crept through your open window?
I would have loved to.
my favorite hellopoetry user no longer writes on here
i don't know if she writes at all anymore
i don't know if she's even alive
why do i still write on here
why do i write at all
why am i even alive
happy to be living, just not sure i'm really happy, but sometimes i am and when i'm not i want to be
— The End —