I cannot feel for you in moderation
All of me desires you
And I can feel the guilt already
Just thinking about everything
That I would discard for you
Or put on hold for you
Because you are worth it all
There's so much beauty in the world
Yet you have all of it
In my eyes, God your eyes
Your waist, your hands...
And it's hard feeling such extremes
Because when life's bad, it's bad
But with you
It's just so good
Clearing out my drafts
~May 31st
A broken heart sings in a way the voice can not
It overflows with meaning I can't, yet comprehend.
Shredded hope hums a somber tone
Sadness sings the melody
Guilt sings the harmony
A sense of entitlement composes.
a beautiful song it is
it sings what humans truly think
they matter.
Michele 2d
The love he displays is like a gentle spring rain,
Drizzling old despondent dandelion dreams.
Never within my reach;
So madly mesmerized, I gazed
As he recited.
So badly bruised, I wished
Until my wishes became possessiveness.
I was envious.

My train of thought comes crashing without any breaks.
Too late to be tepid now it's tarnished.
I never learned how to let go;
Still fighting fire, I cried
At night.
Still finding faith, I smiled
And rested in the comfort of his presence.
I was hopeless.

Ever unrequited, I still dreamed of him.
I wished for every ounce of what once was with you;
I'd come to resent you for the state you've left him in.
You, who did nothing to me, and who was innocent.
You, who lives on in sincere stories.
I wonder if we would have been friends.
As I watch from afar, I see how truly beautiful you are
Or... Would have been.
You never deserved this either.
I think guilt might be killing me.
Now you may ask yourselves: "What did I do to feel so?"
- Kill someone?
No. Nothing so radical.
In fact, nothing that might actually warrant this level of guilt.

Misplaced guilt is like my personal cocaine -
an addiction that my brain can't get rid of, constantly calling to be fed.
I latches on every small mistake
Sinks its claws deep into the marrow of my bones
and stews for a very long time -
whilst my brain vainly strives towards perfection.
Dan Beyer Feb 1
Guilt, guilt, guilt, guilt, guilt
Ticks, like a crosswalk, within.
Cold, clanging, buried.
Ever have a sound whisper to your soul? I hear the word guilt as the crosswalk counts down.
"Stay" The word that slipped his mouth when she was walking away.

She wanted to be chased yet she chose to close the door between them.

Sliding slowly regretting he made her leave and she guilty of shutting the door.
About lovers who chose to let go when both were holding on
Dj 4d
But how do you live;
with knowing you could have prevented something bad from happening,
But instead you did nothing...
Cause id really like to know..
When everything’s not alright,
and you feel yourself fading,
don’t put out the light.
Please don’t surrender to the darkness.
As hard as the days are,
and as overwhelming as the sadness is,
don’t fall.
Hold yourself up by whatever faith you have left.
Don’t let the demons whisper in your head.
Shut them out and show them you are stronger.
Remember that with each breath,
you are winning.
Even if each breath takes all you have,
keep moving.
Keep living.
June has been one of the worst months for me. It’s been five months since my dad passed away In January and everything seems to be going wrong. Not mention we lost two great icons. I honesty don’t feel myself. But I decided to write this poem and maybe spark some hope back into my soul.
Michele 5d
             I'm so very sorry
that I ever thought to know you,
That I could take any words you gave me
And believe them to, despite you, be true.

             I'm so very sorry
for the selflessness-served selfishness
When I tangled my threads through.
It was always too soon for clarity... I did not know what I knew.

I touched my hand to flowers sewn onto your skin,
But they were not there anymore, they only had been.
And as you've shedded them, so now I shed my eyes,
Pouring toxic tears from a bloated heart's demise.

             I'm so very sorry
that I fell for you, my love;
I could never replace which you never wished to be free of.
You still insist tricks are the only thing that's real.
There is no replacing wounds that purposely have yet to heal.

Apologies and blame are such ugly faces,
Yet I cannot accept the reality that chases.
Chases me into this corner, left with your quiet shadow.
It will stay with me forever underneath this weeping willow.

I only brought the bandages to comfort your tireless bleeding.
Those demons wrapped around you, so relentlessly greeding.
I could never hate you, but I shouldn't have tried to detangle;
It always occurs afterwards, but from a certain angle,
You really were okay the way you are.

                                          And I do not deserve you.

I could not find my way away from the haze of your hospice,
I chose this--I preferred being a conscious hostage.
I fought helplessly, breathlessly, to resist when you told me so,
When you drew me in closely, when in the dark you would not let go.
Too late I see the bleak unknown.
My impatience had overgrown.

                                          And you do not deserve me.
No one can ever know what's best for someone else. I truly never wished to control you, but I’ve pushed you away.  What is love if not letting someone be free? I'm so very sorry.

composing a piano piece with this
Those shadowy emissaries
That pass the mind’s great lidless eye
In slow procession through the night
Do fill with color and with sound
The sleeping brain’s vast sweeping bound,
And populate its cityscapes
And alleys with amorphous shapes
That shifting form and countenance
Convey the tides of fleeting thought;
And oft become dark shapes of dread,
Parades of faceless horrors, such
That when I glance their looks are changed –
Each lineament is rearranged –
All meaning or remembrance lost,
Or masked by sweet forgetfulness.
The secret that there lurks within
The labyrinths of memory,
Still tainted by the stench of guilt -
And strengthened by the voice of fear -
Still screams from some dark hidden cell
The lurid blasphemies of hell,
And births itself anew each night,
Each morning dying with the light,
Yet nightly grows in hateful strength,
Corrodes the sturdy locks of will,
And claws through those great iron doors
That lead to waking consciousness.
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