Syd - Hello Poetry

Syd Jun 2014

I can't help it
whenever I see photographs
I can't help but to say that they
would be better with you in them
your smile screams a hundred thousand sunsets and nights spent kissing somewhere
we shouldn't have been
there was something so twistedly romantic about hands touching among secrecy,
hearts racing that shouldn't be

I couldn't help but to love you
but I know
someday this will pass, too

Syd Jun 2014

sunday

I won't rest until you know
that my name sounded best
coming out of your mouth
sliding between your lips and
rolling off your tongue
and sticking onto the *****
of my neck

I need you to know
that your finger tips
belong on the small of my back
or pressed against my lips
amongst the silence before a kiss
and nothing on this earth beats
being tangled up
in your bed sheets
where my extra skin
and awkward curve
may surpass without the judgment
of your mattress and be caressed
as if you didn't have the nerve
and constant urge
to make me believe
I was beautiful

but I don't see it

because when I think of beautiful
I think of your smile
and popsicles
and sunsets

I think of how falling asleep in
your arms is only second best
to waking up in your chest
with your heartbeat in my ear
and my face against your flesh
you once told me

that your favorite time of day
was the way
the sun shifted in harmony
against the bay
of my labored breathing
crashing along the rocks
of your insides
in a nonstop riptide
at five a.m

I then decided

that the way the rays of sunday
morning sunshine
bent before our eyes
knew nothing of beauty compared
to the warmth that lies
between our blankets and
a fresh black brew

fingers and toes and
god only knows
the only place I feel beautiful
is among the morning dew
in bed with you

Syd Jun 2014

Untitled

all of the sudden its hard to breathe and I can't think straight and my throat wants to ******* scream but my vocal chords are knotted up with your name and I swear to god if I hear one more person ask me about you my ear drums are going to explode and the blood won't stop pumping to my brain and through my veins and I wish that I didn't wish that it would stop I can't feel my fingers and my hands are going numb at the thought of you holding hers and every time I close my eyes I see your face and you're smiling. you're ******* smiling but I'm sitting here at 3:27 a.m barely able to breathe because I love you and I ******* hate myself and somehow that's always been okay with me.

Syd Jun 2014

the holes in the walls remind me of you

my mother asks me
quite frequently
why I ever even gave you
the time of day
because all you ever left me with
was ****** knuckles you didn't
have the decency to kiss
before you left me standing
in an empty room
with broken picture frames of you

now

the only wall decor I own
are holes
a little too big
to fit my fists
and I wonder
if this
was how you pictured it to be
as you left me
standing in a sea of equal parts
empty and envy

envious of whoever's sheets
you're sleeping in tonight
and I know two wrongs
don't make a right
but the two of us did

you kissed all the wounded
parts of my skin
and I don't know if you realized
the worst of the damage was done
on the inside
I don't think you knew that
I was the kind of sick
that a first aid kit
could never fix

and I knew someday
you wouldn't have time for this anymore
but I can't remember
how I breathed before
I had you to exhale life
into my lungs and
plant kisses on my skin

and I'll never get the chance
to hold your hand again
all I'm left with are the memories
broken glass
walls with holes
and a sea of broken dreams

Syd Jun 2014

thunderstorms only bring beautiful things

your skin was a manifesto of its own
your heart beat; somehow always
sounded like a busy tone
because I'm tired of using your veins
like a telephone
waiting for you to just pick up already
and say hello
with a certain sense of peacefulness threaded throughout your voice
like an air of perfection that would always be
a little too far out of reach

and I wonder if you know that each
and every morning I make one too many cups of coffee
one for me
and one for a chair that's been empty
for weeks

I wonder if she watches you play
chess as if you're opening a safe
and I bet she has no ******* idea that
your hands can create
catastrophies
and laughter can turn into
screams
in seconds

I want to tell her that legends know nothing of love or investment in one another and as hard as he's trying
if he tells you he never loved me
he's lying
because there's no denying
that at two in the morning
when you're cold and lonely
and the only thing you want is to be touched by something other than
your own boney knees
that a certain sense of nostalgia is laced within the air of your bedroom

I'm not sure what I'll do when the flowers on the front porch start to bloom

we planted them together in the spring

I'm still holding you true to your word
that thunderstorms only bring
beautiful things
dandelions and daisies and maybe

eventually

a chair that's not empty
holding hands,
and kisses
between coffee

Syd May 2014

your hands owe me an apology

growing up my mother always said
that ***** hands and scraped knees
were good for me
my father taught me
how to ride a bike
and drive a car
but you taught me that life was only
worth living if you lived it with
someone you loved

I guess my father loved cigarettes
more than he loved kissing my mother
and I suppose I loved your hands
much more than any other
set of bones on your body because
it was much harder to recover
from nights of an empty bed and
lonely legs than it was for you to say

goodbye
or
why

my mother failed to mention that
broken hearts and open arms spent waiting
in half made beds behind unlocked doors know much more of pain than ****** elbows and yellowed bruises

my hips had hoped to make your hands
their final resting place
and my lips knew no greater taste
than the toxcity of your kisses
and I wonder
if this is
good
for
me