#popularpoetry
Everyday I reserve a moment
to picture you
to imagine us
to feel your heart
which I know well is
still embedded into my own
I'm aware these few moments of my day can lead to nothing
but troubles, & heartache
because when I open my eyes
you're there
god knows where
& I'm here, nowhere
When I stop to think about why I still take my time to think about you
I can only come up with the reasoning that I still love you
I always will love you
even now, six months later
after the damage is done
after the tears have fallen for so long
I'm worried they may have seeped their way into my heart
Even with the knowledge
of the gut wrenching
heart altering pain
our love brought into my
all dancing and daisy life
even past the break,
the moment I knew the love of my life was never
coming home
I would do it all again
over & over & over
&over
again
just for a taste of that sensation
of us
lying barely clothed wrapped in your embrace
for just a glimpse of
your abysmal brown eyes
for a minuscule moment
of our epic love story
I just thought you should know
there's never regrets in this hallow hallway of my heart
only stubborn love
that grasps at a chance
for one more try
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 12:53 AM UTC
Not an amulet, an off white vertebrae; bone.
Brass wire, a loop at one end.
It bends as to make sure this will fit.
A gauge that measures mesmerization,
And we both must get along, but
Not because we're not tough enough:
Most of us aren't soft right yet.
So many stiffs, folly after folly.
The whole carful of loose cadavers,
Dangling, their feet hang with wet snow
And carnage,
Not even musk deer pop up,
They've all gone. Roosting in a parabol,
With X's sprayed to their groins.
Burning pop couples
Doing it like laboratory mice. Capybaras
Hiss, my own burnt blood is also
Flocculating.
Turn the cup upside down and
See the fire's balmy lachrymal opaque
Moss while it does not drip.
This is the story of man you asked me about;
Devoid of a muzzle, fur onto his chest; coarse
Hair in a garland.
It is the God of a tool that buzzes into the night.
A plateau for this most sensible study.
We feel another coming.
And when you awoke, your larval tongue
My eye mush, a song of verse and melancholy.
This half list of greatness, a tally we both wish to see.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 4:38 AM UTC