You said that I'm as cold as winter in its peak,
that not even the arctic wolves would survive, living with me...
You played me like a fiddle, and each time, you would win..
How could I ever let a stone heart like yours in?
So be it that I'm cold,
I have my reasons to be...
If you don't know how to love yourself, how could you ever love someone like me...
I hear the stories you tell, how strategic are your lies...
I let you win, because as I said, you'd play the victim each time...
To all the girls who've given you their body,
I can only imagine the pain that they'd feel..
When I gave you my words, you tore them apart..
What we had was never real.
So I will trust my heart, which doesn't trust you..
MY COLD HEART COULD NEVER WARM UP , NO MATTER HOW RED THE VIEW...
WHEN YOUR MIND IS TAINTED BY BLUE...
puzzled by his brooding stare
my heartbeat quickens
static lingers in the air
my posture stiffens
I glance down at the table
then back at his eyes
to dancing fire— playful—
a sensual surprise
“You look good today”
I use my pen to get rid of this overwhelming frustration….
When my life feel lost with no direction.
I call out but all that silence is the answer….
It really looks like I’m backed in a corner.
This is really when I’m truly at my truest…
Even when the whole world is acting stupid…
I’ll fight till I die!!
If not for me, then for my family’s pride...
So I’ll fight till I die as I said before….
A true champion I am …right to the core.
Don’t stress or don’t run or even make a fuss…
I’m rhyming aren’t I …without having to cuss.
So sit back relax I swear I’ll make it to the moon…
Without any help it looks like…I’ll still be there soon.
At the top I’ll look down to scurrying ants…
I’m up here I’ll call …just listen to their chants.
In my head it comes loud a voice screaming you fool,
Just chillax!... This dark time will be over soon.
To those reading and think this is not tough…
You try telling a story that rhymes with like...stuff…
This is a skill so why try and act buff.
I’ll slay your thoughts with my written rhyme….
I challenge you …no dare you… to give this a try….
When you fail remember what I said….. This is not easy, just ask the demons inside my head.
Word play in times of need. It's the demon inside me, this is want and his need.
each pocket has a purpose
church bells shatter through the surface
the worthless circus sunday service
a procession past the pickled mirthless
dispersions of persons pass pews
hoping He accepts the time served, in lieu
and thus this pocket is purposed for you
At the masqurade parade all day
That preys on insecurity
youre sure to see a bargain,
sharking, armed with curiosity
but the cost is often hidden, lost
in a forest of desire, in a silk lined pocket
and this is where they keep your wallet
search for solace in a sound structure
then ruptured synapses, flayed fluster
rebuild it all, regard life's lustre
meander melancholy with what you can muster
place them in a pocket, each respective,
one for your lessons and one for perspective
as the pickpocket of fear plays with the reasoning detective
A bit of rhyming fun here with a few feelings expressed against some aspects of life completely biased and brazen.
Sew up those pockets people.
Peel and pry;
Eager to unravel,
Encouraged to try.
So many years went by
I wanted to forget you
I even really made it!
but God being infinitely playful
First took you away
Then created the occasion,
That moment of weakness
for you to step back
Dear God why do you play with me?
What was it so hard for you to stop teasing me? I feel confused
I took a path....
now I can not choose
Is it possible to follow two paths?
Will they get intertwined ?
Oh God I know you laugh in front of my predicament!!
It does only amuse you
Why even you laugh at me? I suppose it's funny so so funny I even smile
It's you but they call it my destiny!
When you run your fingers through his hair,
They burn as hot as the orange strands
That streak through the red of his locks
Which are too warm these fall nights.
You’re not sure when you realized that
He wasn’t like you,
Human and soft enough to be pricked by the knife’s edge
That he playfully dragged across his tongue
While looking at you with eyes that refracted the amber light of his soul.
He’s not sure when he realized that he’d stay,
Far past the summer when you met
On the sandy banks of the lake that swallowed light
Until it was the same deep blue of your eyes,
Binding him to your side long after the sun set
And the rays upon the bed’s sheets had faded
Into a warm glow in the dark.
When he runs his hands over your toes,
Cooled by the coming winter
That wraps you up in wool sweaters
And leaves you huffing as he walks by in only jeans,
He realizes that he dare not leave
You to grow cold these coming nights.
A few years ago, I did not think I would be writing paranormal/fantasy romance poems.
My niece is sat opposite me
My niece is in possession of paint
And a paintbrush
And I’ve surrendered my hands to her.
My face scrunches
Paint properly plastered
The newspaper in front of us her dad had put down for her she swaps for plain
I wiggle the digits on my
Upward facing palms.
The One That Married Into This
Comes in from the kitchen.
I rise from my cross-legend position
And pat his cheek as we meet in the doorway
Then I rest my hand on his shoulder,
Trying to gaze lovingly,
As opposed to smirking.
He doesn’t notice the paint
Because it’s warm
And maybe I’ve just got clammier hands than usual.
I go to wash my hands off.
Le artiste demands
The One That Married Into This
Touches a reassuring
To just below my back.
We only notice the paint prints
As we graze the hall mirror
As we start the 30 minute process
Of saying goodbye
As we walk out the door
To make a sound
Our tongs and our lips
Produce a warm melody
That make our cheeks
Dance to our heartbeats
A playfull, tasty kiss
Is Adored by some
But it is its sound
That I truely miss
A perfect scene
Pictured in my mind
Of two lovable beings
Wanting to be just one
Neighter of us is in it
Is merely a fantasy
A mischevious dream
I wish i could end it
I am your silly girl—
Yet here you stand, invested;
despite the smirk that pulls across your lips when you consider something smarmy.
I am your silly girl—
I blurt the ridiculous ramblings as they manifest behind my developing expression.
The flash of that very specific grin
when you’ve figured me out;
(you’re always figuring me out before I do)
followed by the briefest pause as you weigh your advancing words carefully:
Boy, I am enjoying this.
You’re so polite when you set me in my place, and it makes me want to kiss your face
Again and again and again.
I am your silly girl:
Paint stained fingers, tipped with clashing colors on cheap acrylic.
A homage to the blonde headed ditz with soul
A role I’ve always envied, but had been too smart to relax into.
(I stir my black coffee with twizzler sticks and eat lucky charms at midnight)
It has been so exhausting to exist without you:
Isn’t that funny?
I have spent thirty years establishing my lonely ant hill above everyone and everything else,
But within hours, I abandoned it all
to live among your interpretation of the world,
where I seek your translation every day.
Before you got here, I sought the validation that I was smart by ******* stupid men.
I have never felt as smart as I do, having decided to let myself love you.
I am your silly girl.