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I am the eye on your shelf
I am the scratches of ink
that rip through unbarred arenas-
when sunken bones and unburied prints
amass a clump of
galloping words
tracing measured tracks
of battles forlorn

Hence my history beckons and the
leather straps like tires
machinal; my life
reduced to rubble burn-marks
in a book that
made you look
without a care
for where-
to put it.

another whisper in the wind which once
carried its conquered careful balance
Now sits still as a spineless paperweight
propped up by the heap of dust
in your periphery
Hey, I'm your ex.
It's been a really long time since I talked to you.
How are you doing? What has your day been like?
Do you think you'll want kids soon?

I've been doing hard of it.
I don't think my days can continue as they are.
It feels like no matter how much I try to change.
I can't quite move from where I start.

The weird part is, you don't know me.
I was an abusive ***.
And right now where I am, I can't reconcile him.
Who you fell in love with from the past.

But I'm still your ex and I miss you.
I wish we could talk a little more.
I never did quite get over you.
Though, what you did rattled me to my core.

But I don't blame you.
I have long since moved on from that day.
I thought you still loved me, and, well, I was wrong.
I have never been able to trust what people say.

I've tried to get in contact.
My messages to you receive no reception.
Scores of poetry line a man with a traumatic past.
Who never received, even an ounce, of physical affection.

My actions are still respecting your wishes.
When you wanted to cut me off.
You told me so, to leave you forever.
Divide the sea from the whorf.

I looked over some old messages from you.
Its really frightening how I had put on such airs.
I never trusted you, but I grew to, somewhat.
It's a shame I couldn't give you my soul to bare.

I never meant for it to be this way.
I feel like I couldn't have done any better, anyway.
And I'm just telling you, as I had before.
The man you knew, is not the man I am today.

He is so far divorced from his honest feelings, he can barely grasp them.
He is so stressed by his past, he can never confide in.
He is so untrusting of his relationships, he could never partake with.
And he certainly didn't receive the help he needed, as it would always deride him.

As I struggle through my recovery, I can't help but miss you.
Well I always have.
I wish things weren't the way they were.
They do make me very sad.

And they remind me of all my betrayals I ever felt.
Not that I made it easy.
And for you, I certainly did not.
My hopes were dashed that you would ever see me.

I'm not a bad guy, I'm not a good guy.
But I try my best, always to be honest.
I think if you knew me, as I am now.
You would know, to love you always I have kept my promise.

But being kind isn't all that special.
And being deep isn't all that rare.
And these qualities of me now, you found somewhere else.
And so this regretful loneliness I bare.

The sun crept from the hills along the roiled grey sky.
As the trees breathed deeply and looked to the pry.
Weaving through cries, the birds sang to their choir.
Through daylight flickering in the skew morning mire.

She walked along the edge of a streams moving shroud.
The light glazed and bled on her dress rich and proud.
in a valley so serene where goodness was spent.
From the dream where it droned in winters lament.

But her body moved onward into the story cast.
By memories and true love thrown into the past.
Speaking forlorn of a man both withered and lost
Of mud in the streets and floods on the frost.

By morning it was over and our hearts had been shaken.
Not to know until later just what had been taken.
Like embers in ash it had wilted and drowned.
It started with a shout, it left without a sound.

And his eyes wandered about, they looked to the crash.
And his body fell over in the green wild brash.
Light twinkled on the plants, it spoke from the cinder.
Again, and again, it grew from the tinder.

Crackle and hiss, stoke fire to the furnace.
Until his heart was warm and warmly in earnest.
Where love moved and it rested upon the life in his chest.
And relaxed as it closed her sallow eyes on his breast.

It moved as he moved into the hot pouring blaze.
By holding her hand and pulling into the phrase.
She burnt and he bruised and she tried to defend.
But 7 long years till their "together" would end.


The wind billowed around her dress, her veil and her gown
As his ears were closed and his eyes cast down.
Binary, basic, butch and bouquet.
As her feet move through the bones that littered the fray.

The body that cried cold and scattered in the spring.
Grow old, grow young and grow old once again.
And bray the sky pleading for a woman in love.
Receiving but rain and not answers from the angels above.

He cursed on their name and found comfort in the bellows.
Where tales like his can be found in its Fellows.
They bind, they break and they loiter in its seems.
All to find comfort in his ill gotten dreams.

Where it spreads like disease, where it climbs in the sound.
Until his thoughts and feelings grew heated in the crowd.
As everyone could see him as the narcissistic clown.
And no one would want for him, but be cruelly let down.

In home, he weltered and continued to persist.
As his friends would disappear into the cool white mist.
While his hands would reach out and ask for support.
Before the chains of his past bound him deftly and caught.

While he pleaded and asked to be left alone.
For him, people could not have hurt but be sown.
And the blaze at once ardent could not help now be cool.
Where the bray of his heart quieted, admitted he the fool.


For the hangman did say as he tightened the noose.
"Ye be faithful, be kind and know who you choose.
Be bound by your honor, be bound by a ring."
He knew and he felt the harm he would bring.

And even at the end, He thought of her face.
He felt the lines in her hair, her movement and grace.
The words of hers that allowed him to sing.
And no clue of the future, that it would never bring.

We could not have known how much better or gaunt.
The dire, the coldness, the tired or the taut.
The pleasure, the playful, the tension in her smile.
And resisting the urge to stay more than a while.

But time moved on and it moved without thinking.
And the man who he was was no longer breathing.
No one who knew him, no one could believe.
What the ghost of a mean person in love could achieve.

The one who he was, was far too outspoken.
And who he is now, was never more open.
When moon light would shine and the mist would recede.
When strength was his motto and not covering his greed.

The ghost moved through death and learned how to be a man.
And his foes and his friends knew where he began.
He did business in town, he did work in the wing.
And never more did he feel, like a puppet on a string.

And now she is gone and he knows that's okay.
And he thinks about it again, and he hurts every day.
While struggling to sleep, when heart shadows cling.
He wrote a poem to remember a woman without wings.
LeBobbe Apr 2023
A girl stares at her ceiling.
She tries to find her meaning.
But the ceiling holds absense.
Her mind then became a canvas.
She paints with her emotions.
A cluster of scenery beholds.
Ranges from glimmer to potent.
Her vision blurred with amusement.
Tears filled her vision.
Everything is misleading direction.
Raw emotions filled her field.
Nothing but sadness are its yield.
Tears for years she held to.
She wakes with a heart broke into two.

A canvas of herself.
A part of heart.
Reflected & Detached.
An old poem of mine rewritten in my style today.
All your tears are fresh in the morning
Yet, I wait for every clear evening to cope
Wrestling the desolate storm without hope
Hearing closely for sight of some longing

You remember when we watched the rain
A rogue wind hit us and we weren't the same
With every push and shove drew us further apart
We tried to justify the walls because help never came

Did we have some change of heart?
The sun and Earth aren't quite estranged
We were birds of the sky that lost trust in flight
As we endure every month in silence and slight

It's October, I listen to the slow burning of your arms
We have seen worse times in the past and waited hours
Moving ahead from our last, first to last, for the stars
To start a fire, you have to trust the dark
Jamesb Sep 2022
The butler falls for the princess
As much as the Lord ever falls for the maid,
And even from his inferior role
Might feel
Albeit briefly and in error
Like a master of the palace,
When his princess fawns upon him
And lies beneath,
All alabaster perfection and
Perfume and passion,

Yet when all is done and said,
Whether in or on,
Even under the bed,
He's still the butler,
She's still better made,
She will never be his
No matter his dreams
Aspirations or hopes,
Or what with her legs spread
She said,

Because she is a princess,
She has no thought of
Love for a lower form such as he,
He scratches an itch to be sure
Which left un relieved might
Be sore,
But her parts and her heart are
Both bound towards someone more,
Much finer,
Far richer
Much better,
Than he.
This happens when you fall for someone who doesnt fall as far or as hard as you do.
Nora Sayed Jun 2021
They haven’t smiled properly since then
I long to look into your dark eyes again
To see what you hid in your soul from words
To take me with them on a journey to your world
They seem to remind me that you’re human too
That feeling unproductive isn’t something new
They vent saying you’re going through a hard situation
Where loneliness is causing a great deal in your devastation
It’s challenging you to try and live without it
To bring over new friends who truly love you and admit
It’s creating in your mind the illusion that no one wants you
And being stoical would be the only way through
So I ask you when it speaks in your head, radiating a sound
Telling you to disappear, say “ No I want to be found.”
Deep Mar 2021
Heartbroken, sleepless, sick, and sad
I touch the nib of my pen on this white paper
Hoping to write timeless poetry from
the perfect ingredients I sought
In my loveless days,

Yet, I struggle to pen down
the thoughts,

O, my Muse! the dispenser of my woes

Have I offended you by breaking vows?

I implore you to return my solitary days,
This feeling is unbearable,


And mind-numbing,

Now, I know what I craved for
is poison,

It's nothing like the film, books, tv shows, and other

But like, someone has punctured the knife in the palm
and slowly taking it towards the shoulders,
to the chest,
to the whole body.
Helped regret all my acts of kindness,
Tell beauty, if you like...
Now I wish I were dead...
Lesson learned? Duty call
For my reaction isn't forlorn.

Stupid all my prayers,
Perhaps a curse will work much better...
For that better world imagined, so longed for.

How could I not support her, the one who helped me so.
And they say I needed my medicine.
She cures it all.
She.. The death of all illusions, of all hopes, wishes... Needs.
It is all for the best, for she knows.
Deep Dec 2020
The world would
have been different
if I had you!
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