I spend my hours lonely Staring at a phone that doesn't ring Lying to myself Pretending not to feel the sting Around my room in laps I pace Because it is hard to stay standing still Restless and anxious I can't concentrate Distress is too strong to **** A tiny part of me is relieved To see you haven't changed at all It makes it easier to stand nt ground When back to you I want to crawl You must be a magician Putting me under a spell With one wave of your wand enchanted Conjuring heaven We're really in hell You keep my adoration in your pocket Instead of in your heart It's obvious I am the only half affected When our lives are forced apart It feels as though I inhabit a cage Only when you disappear Your absence holds me captive Then am freed when you get near Dancing on a narrow line Seperating sense and satiety If I succumb to my shameful desires That means forfeiting my sanity Trapped behind bars inside my brain Cannot escape my expectations Disappointment is inevitable Yet I still surrender to sweet temptation Shades of blue inside and out Mixed with the occasional grey or black All other colors vanished with my trust I'm pretty sure they're not coming back Cloaked in heavy misery Weighs down my overwhelmed soul You don't even have the decency To return all the time that you stole You placed stars directly in my eyes Just so you could watch them burn out Ignorance was comfortable Til you showed me what I now live without Silence chokes with an icy grip Solitude freezes spirit right through my skin No matter how many games you play with my emotions I still participate although it's impossible to win
I almost titled this "Sad ***** Hours" buuut figured those who dont get that reference might be offended haha
I feel scared when I am alone in the middle of a crowd, Which is almost always. I feel irked when The music is much too loud, While the night won't irritate me. I feel flared when Someone abuses the language and are proud, Which is also an insult to themselves. I feel terrorized when They proclaim that there's no one but Al, Not to mention the time of their loudspeakers.
i. we both want to get rid of our last names. maybe that was a sign.
ii. we always talked about faking our deaths together curled up on your couch when everyone was sleeping. i hope you remember what my desperation tasted like. at midnight i had to go. like cinderella. but it was wintertime and the pumpkins were moldy. you never came to my door with a shoe or a question. maybe that was a sign.
iii. you chased after her when i was sitting patiently at your feet. she was joking about an anime i hadn't watched and you got mad. the joking mad that makes you laugh until you're red. the way you never got with me. maybe scared that i'd run. the way you did after her. i know i shouldn't be jealous, but. maybe that was a sign.
iv. i asked you what flavour i would be and you said raspberry. i never tasted them the same again. you didn't ask me to tell you which you'd be, but i told you mango anyway. who ever heard of a raspberry mango smoothie? one day i made one. just to see what we tasted like. i could only pick out the raspberries. maybe that was a sign.
v. you got a tarot reading from someone else. i tried not to be hurt, but you never wanted one from me. i was too cut up to ever ask you why. you told me what your cards said, and none of them were about me. i guess it's selfish. but mine are always about you. god, do you even know how much you break me? i must be addicted to it because i stay. i stay and stay and stay even when you get another tarot reading from her. maybe that was a sign.
vi. i always texted first. always. maybe that was a sign.
vii. i'm the one writing all these poems about you. like we're broken up. you never said the words, and neither did i. but i'll never forget what the moon told me late that night when you didn't linger at my door. half past midnight. i try not to read too much into it, but. maybe it was a sign.
i'm an overthinking ***** :))
i love you blue eyes. please stop letting me write these stupid poems about you. it really doesn't do me any good.
A tiny trickle of sand passing through the fingers of your hand that's an hour just a shower of amber grains what remains of a once mighty boulder much older than time it has heard midnight chime many times the tick tick tock of the clock of eternity and now it embraces modernity slowly wearing away day by day hour by hour as a shower of sand in the palm of your hand
There’s something for everyone here in this world of ours and all that anyone really has to do is to put in the hours. So as to get whatever they may desire or perhaps wish to be; it’s the same for those who in their efforts try to become free. ______
From "The Quatrains" ongoing writings since the early '90's.
Doodling out the hours And minutes Become tiny emojis Criss-cross, half-finished Tic tac toe games And I feel lost Each box a reminder Of these quarantine Afternoons, and your name Is always on my lips Along with the words I miss you