Ours is like a strand of yarn Stretched across a narrow gap Though the wind berates And the rain pours out in the summer storm It will not break, it will endure But perhaps in time will sag and fray As if we let it so to go Or even chose to cut it down Because you have your own phone lines now Made of woven steel and unbroken arms As we were just a childhood yarn Or a single strand between two hearts
Perhaps one day...most likely. I'll be a memory In your mind.
trace me back to myself trace yourself on my back I will back yourself upon a wall and dance beneath your waterfall all your tears water my soul all your fears I hold sway from afar melt in your stall your full, sensual lips are all I ask for my planted feet my well-known wall your rippling being I admire to hold a poet may write of 'your blonde strands of gold' a poem insults you for material is sold my love rare is not gold my love you are not gold but whatever you are I am your fort
I unpacked your boxes too quickly. I exposed the whiteness of your thighs freckled by the reddish-brown hairs I uncovered the wrinkles in your blue iris the lies and tears behind your front teeth evenly crooked
I wanted your words to flutter from your mind but they dropped from your throat to the floor I wanted your laughter in your core to be kind but it came from a shallow, envious drawer
I pulled strands and veins out of boxes Found bundles and tangles that I assumed should be unraveled but when I pulled and twisted one straight, you left in your car with a crunch in the gravel Drove straight into the arms of Malbec wine at low rise tables with one chair, an excerpt from a novel bent at the spine and the sweater you never let me wear
I drank from the pint glass you brought home for me and it wasn't a statement. I wore no mask. I simply sipped. It's only meaning to transport water to my lips Calmly, coating my belly So slowly I'd wait Imagining water burning like ***** Barreling down my throat like an interstate
I wanted it back the feeling of feeling the fear that walks with revealing the love, the artist, and the lunatic all cooked together and left to steep
I pulled out my own strands the ones anchored deep. I worked endlessly to straighten You wrapped yourself in my veins to tightly You were trapped in the bundle so you ran, then came a stumble forgetting that I was anchored too and so you pulled me right down with you.
And I left you there with your tearful stare I bunched up these strands and laid out my demands I carried them off, the tangled mess You once announced was yours to hold but you overestimated yourself and watched me become cold A block of ice, you could never melt you were not all, you were not my wealth you were only the weight I felt.
I was clutching on tattered vines Praying fervently to all that are divine To let it hold Please make it hold
I was gripping tightly on my last strand of faith (I'm slipping) Just let me hold Let my life hold
Then you pulled at me And I went crashing d o w n So here I am with a shattered heart, a broken soul and a tattered gown.
This is about how you're barely holding on without going mad and then yearning for some guy's love turns out to be your breaking point. It's titled Stark ***** because I wanted to write something about vulnerability and here it is.