#glazed
When it comes to the world,
I'm a preterm baby—
I know nothing
of tales, adventures,
treachery, or wisdom.
I watch
with hooded, glazed eyes
that only understand
fragments—
splinters
of ideas.
So when I got a glimpse,
it wasn’t something
a cradle-bound soul
could ever decipher.
It's the justification of just—
It’s never just a papercut.
And it wouldn’t be.
It’s never I’m fine.
And it wouldn’t be.
My baby self
is allowed to throw a fit.
I think
every other version
should too.
But I’m only a preterm.
What do I know?
May 4, 2025
May 4, 2025 at 4:46 AM UTC
My shadow was eating me alive,
I was becoming an outline,
Of the person I once could recognize.
My ambitions were fading,
Goals made for dreaming,
Left me feeling.
Aching for the life I could have led.
With every day that passes,
my hands feel see-through.
My gaze is glazed with dull focus.
As if I am disappearing from who I once knew.
May 26, 2024
May 26, 2024 at 12:15 AM UTC
Woeful glazes sitting idle
for is one meant to be burdening another,
And when the idleness
breaks free then all shall falter
May 9, 2020
May 9, 2020 at 5:44 PM UTC
you didn't open your eyes once.
you didn't want to see how much i was in love with you.
we sat there in the back of your car
kissing like there was no tomorrow.
but you never once opened your eyes to look at me.
you did smile..
with those perfect teeth...
your lips parting just enough
where i could feel them against my lips.
your eyes never opened.
i pushed your hair back...
maybe you were blinded by the coarse strands of golden brown hair?
i pushed and pushed but your eyes never opened.
maybe those eyes didn't want to see who they were touching.
they just wanted the sensation of the touch.
your eyes never opened that night
and i never once got to see
those glazed brown eyes staring back at me.
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 9:19 PM UTC
She watched the world through a sheet of glass.
Flowers blossom as she opens her eyes. The sky is a radiant blue. Dewdrops glitter in the light, perched on emerald leaves. She does not smile. She does not laugh. She opens her eyes, and they are blank, and they are dull. And they are dead.
The trees boast vibrant foliage. The sun is bright and relentless as laughter and the cries of children waft through the air. She lies on her side, staring out the window, lashes blinking slowly and evenly, and those azure eyes could have been the envy of the world. But they are glazed over, and she watches the world move on without interest.
The sky is on fire. The wind is painted with vivid colors, saffron and burgundy and crimson. The very Earth is alive with a passionate soul. The air is sharp, heralding winter, and the people celebrate while they can. But still she lies there, eyes still blinking slowly and dully. She will not speak a word. She will not make a sound. She will not move a muscle. Her chest does not even lift. But her eyes open, then close, then open again.
Winter has arrived. The trees droop, snow weighing down their branches. The bitter cold keeps everyone indoors. The city is silent, cloaked in white and shades of gray. All sound is muted. A hush has fallen over the world.
The girl blinks. Once. Twice. And moves no more.
For how could her parent have known that she was both mute and blind?
Dec 18, 2017
Dec 18, 2017 at 8:26 PM UTC
I grabbed the teal towel
Your naked body had been wrapped in last
Used your slimming bar of soap
Conditioned my armpit hair like you do
I even swirled shampoo in the palm of my hand
Because today is my first shower without you
My back will not get washed
Your wash cloths will stay folded
Still on top of the glazed porcelain
And only one lofa will get sudsy and wet
I think i'd rather ferment in my own sweat
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 10:47 PM UTC
my eyes are open but they wont show you my soul
they see you but they will not achieve your goal
for you do not know the mist that covers them
the ghosts of forever protecting me from him.
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 10:02 AM UTC
Eyes glazed like poetry, the kiln of my
Heart turning what once was soft fragile
Painted in what was a shadow of what
Was once bright now oxidized on.
This vessel holds the ashes of what I used
To be, before you did that threw me in
The fires of sorrow and despair,
I was once a flower fresh and free.
Now I am but a glazed reminisce of what
Once was a kiln burnt heart ash where a
Heart was meant to always beat.
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 2:21 PM UTC
Wings did flutter upon a kaleidoscope in the heavens,
Grazing upon the chimes of coloured skies ink,
What was transparent, now glazed with blush,
More followed once the same now individual,
Heavens high were a blaze of colour once more .
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 10:38 AM UTC
The times where you looked into my eyes,
and I did the same,
when all time was paused for a moment,
I could do nothing but look deep,
and see if I could imagine you with me forever.
The images were so amazing at first,
but when I kept looking,
within a couple moments,
it seemed that trees were changing colors.
Looking into your eyes made me realize,
within a few months,
you wouldn't even have the same feelings,
As I have for you.
I know this, because farther down the road,
all the trees... were dead.
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 5:21 PM UTC
I miss your arms around me
your hands
your glazed eyes
I want your body next to mine
I want you to go in deep, and never leave
you're my sunshine in a blue world
I need to breathe you into me
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 1:21 AM UTC
while I may do you perfectly. the snow angels on gasoline st., did you
see them? All of the houses were dripping wet too, one girl with gold laces on her leopard shoes wore red plastic pants; totally soaked to the bone.
to train ourselves to brave the heat of each others' bodies as we awaken in one small bed, one small blanket. the both of us yawn. it's so fun to make waffles but neither of us like to eat preference. I love you to death but prefer to brush my teeth alone- one tooth at a time.
embrace your new t-shirt, even though not everyone enjoys a good show of a flock of crows. hand drawn indie wicker-hipster prints. coffee by the pint. you crack me up like vitrifying glass sheens of the individual bubbles in a bubble bath or the ****** glazed eyes of the monsters' eye while a shark attacks.
creaky sounds of bodies mapped by fingers, tickled tummies rippled by listening to witch house singers. you crack me up, count chocula. It's Saturday, I love to laugh while laying down. everybody's funnier when they're laying on the ground. we toast to ghosts.
luminous lengths of birthday candles
lickediddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd d 0 y0urself as best you can
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 3:55 AM UTC