#sock
It's hard enough
Trying to walk
In someone else's shoes
But to repeatedly
Get stepped on
And told you stink
Can cause a real hole in your life
Nov 18, 2019
Nov 18, 2019 at 1:58 PM UTC
Let me just lay here
and count the raindrops
they remind me of tears
that never stopped
running down the window pane
why do we run if we've already lost?
I've never felt that much pain
or paid a higher cost
to loose a love like a missing sock
now I'm oddly paired
and out of luck
oh how I despaired
and buried my head
hoping the wind would carry the sand
no longer to be wed
no reason to wear the band
a reminder cast in solid gold
a useless trinket
an empty hole
a broken promise
has passed her lips
no granted wish
will ever be his
all that's left is an odd sock
and a broken heart
is what she took.
Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 7:52 PM UTC
When we stopped at the mission
The cracked Adobe was a message from god
Saying,
Centuries are just cracks in the stone, my world runs on diamonds and hydrocarbons
On charming interactions
On moments of synchronicity
On rubbing out heat to be dissatisfied into the void
To give feed for the new ones
In the feral zodiacs.
She frowned at this answer, said she wanted something less ethereal,
Something tight to clutch
Like the Parthenon's Corinthian columns
Or the great gables of a Neverending tabernacle
She was a greedy and godly girl
I was stupified, staring intently at the cracks
Asking what strange beings were created in between
Tracing the canyon routes with my hands, pressing the palm against the grooves
They were warm with lost sunshine, they had dust and life and creatures of God that sought not the gaze of us, but the eternal love of the dark
I have neglected many times this fact of life, pretending to be a stone in a world of pulsating flesh
Wanting to be abused eternally in exchange for experience
To be Boulder--
With granite cheeks and dusted neck
With cobalt eyes and chiseled chest
Tectonic movement, sparring feet
And left forever towards the seas.
Jan 2, 2019
Jan 2, 2019 at 2:08 PM UTC
Cleaning the apartment for the first time in forever.
Sorting through a pile of clothes I never wear.
There was a sock that is not mine, buried down below.
I bite my lip, holding in the urge to cry.
How can a sock affect me so?
It may seem stupid, but it reminded me of her.
Sitting on the sofa, her feet dangling off the side.
I would lean against the wall and watch, as she lay there so peacefully.
With her furrowed brow and pensive eyes, she stared at the screen.
She smiled, blushing as she saw me there.
We both laughed as I crawled into her arms.
Her legs wrapped around me, and I looked into her eyes.
It may seem strange that a sock has such power over me.
But I suppose it is not the sock, but its owner, that tortures me.
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 1:07 AM UTC
Beginning: A lamb with a fluffy fleece
Soon she will be naked
These fine strands of taken
To be twisted by a machine
From an atom-like jumble comes a line
And the line is to be twisted yet again
But twisted in a methodical pattern
Cast off, put on. The sock.
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 8:26 PM UTC
I lost my sock
in by bed
I think it's near
my lovers head
I hope they won't
wake up to see
a smelly sock
that belongs to me
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 12:10 AM UTC
I still have your single black sock-
It is a reminder that I am not the only one who
lost something
when you left:
misfit parts of you are still sprinkled across my bedroom
(it is a lesson for the both of us)
what else am I to do?
Jun 28, 2016
Jun 28, 2016 at 3:53 AM UTC