#tightly - Hello Poetry

I am not sure how to fix what's been broken Scared I lose another piece of you with each word spoken Everything I don't or do seems to never be right When I try to figure out the reason we just fight How many poor decisions can I possibly make Before my fuck-ups are too much for you to take? Afraid if I loosen my grip you'll slip away and disappear But the harder I clutch the less you want me near

0

May 8, 2019

May 8, 2019 at 7:37 AM UTC

AmandaKayBurke

Squeezing You So Tightly You Can't Even Breathe

I am not sure how to fix what's been broken Scared I lose another piece of you with each word spoken Everything I don't or do seems to never be right When I try to figure out the reason we just fight How many poor decisions can I possibly make Before my fuck-ups are too much for you to take? Afraid if I loosen my grip you'll slip away and disappear But the harder I clutch the less you want me near

8

Sailing through purple skies unhindered And breathe crystal snowflake frosted air Floated past the mysterious Weeping Mountains And yellow forests called Warlocks Fair Trembling Wandered the underworld Drunk with false courage from Cretan wine Leapt bravely from star to star Journeyed through red starred scattered galaxies Witnessing the birth and death of time The finality of the forever feared tolling The ringing of deaths solemn bell Conjured this was in my mind quite carefully For I am she who tells the tale Commanding the heavens and the earth with my pen To me the four winds bow low and kneel The water robed river nymphs pirouette Wild horned stags vault high to my music You must admit the scene quite captivating and surreal The moon kiss my cheek with shy affection Apollo grace me with a sunburst arrow of gold Syrian lotus seed the door to the universe Held tightly in small clutching hands Where lies stories soon to be told She who tells the tale Sprung from blood of ancient lands Portraying in ink and script The dark images of man. @ Copyright Tammy M. Darby Dec. 12, 2018.

0

Dec 10, 2018

Dec 10, 2018 at 9:07 PM UTC

tammy-m-darby

She who tells the tale

Sailing through purple skies unhindered And breathe crystal snowflake frosted air Floated past the mysterious Weeping Mountains And yellow forests called Warlocks Fair Trembling Wandered the underworld Drunk with false courage from Cretan wine Leapt bravely from star to star Journeyed through red starred scattered galaxies Witnessing the birth and death of time The finality of the forever feared tolling The ringing of deaths solemn bell Conjured this was in my mind quite carefully For I am she who tells the tale Commanding the heavens and the earth with my pen To me the four winds bow low and kneel The water robed river nymphs pirouette Wild horned stags vault high to my music You must admit the scene quite captivating and surreal The moon kiss my cheek with shy affection Apollo grace me with a sunburst arrow of gold Syrian lotus seed the door to the universe Held tightly in small clutching hands Where lies stories soon to be told She who tells the tale Sprung from blood of ancient lands Portraying in ink and script The dark images of man. @ Copyright Tammy M. Darby Dec. 12, 2018.

29

Love was when she fought me and we ended it by hugging each other tightly.

0

Aug 10, 2018

Aug 10, 2018 at 12:28 PM UTC

Survived

Love

Love was when she fought me and we ended it by hugging each other tightly.

3

If you touch me Do it gently If you hug me Do it tightly If you leave me Do it quickly If you stay with me Do it forever.

0

May 15, 2015

May 15, 2015 at 6:37 PM UTC

nikitam

Untitled

If you touch me Do it gently If you hug me Do it tightly If you leave me Do it quickly If you stay with me Do it forever.

8

This terribleness. The blur of traffic lights and puddles paints Los Angeles on my face at night. It's so hard to know who will doze in my blind spots. Sunflower seeds and ******* lining the carpet. I sat on the front porch for five hours gutting the wolves from my appendices. Usually the headaches go away with the squashing of the lights. Fluorescents are the worst, halogens second, and 60-watt 120-volt light bulb the bane of my existence. I look at my phone but I cannot summon a quirky 120 character quip. I need excedrin but all I have to grape flavored children's aspirin. I should have asked for the water. How many unfinished glasses of water have I left around this world? Maybe Bruce and I will squash after work. I can hear his weekly catalog of two night stands with those married transient women who drive from Santa B. I hate golf, I could have made carried a career in this resentment. Maybe rolling down the window will alleviate some of this pressure. Maybe it's barometric pressure, The Baby is here in time to drag the houses out to sea. It feels like Michelangelo is carving The David in my head and it's the chiseling I've never wanted. It's Tuesday and the drugs were horrible. They killed five of them today. We wrapped their heads in blankets from the Thrifty, and had to have the interns find clothes that would fit for the Christian caskets. Two days until Giving Thanks Day. I am wrapped in copper and stuck in amber. I am acquitted by nonsense and stipulation, sick with nausea and pushing my forehead into the steering wheel. This is all terrible. The lying I've never told myself. The people that don't even know it's lying. Her and I always seem to escape with our happiness and pleasure in tow. The odds are slim, but our clothes have never fit too tightly.

0

Nov 25, 2014

Nov 25, 2014 at 2:54 AM UTC

martin-narrod

The Neon Alien Blouse

This terribleness. The blur of traffic lights and puddles paints Los Angeles on my face at night. It's so hard to know who will doze in my blind spots. Sunflower seeds and ******* lining the carpet. I sat on the front porch for five hours gutting the wolves from my appendices. Usually the headaches go away with the squashing of the lights. Fluorescents are the worst, halogens second, and 60-watt 120-volt light bulb the bane of my existence. I look at my phone but I cannot summon a quirky 120 character quip. I need excedrin but all I have to grape flavored children's aspirin. I should have asked for the water. How many unfinished glasses of water have I left around this world? Maybe Bruce and I will squash after work. I can hear his weekly catalog of two night stands with those married transient women who drive from Santa B. I hate golf, I could have made carried a career in this resentment. Maybe rolling down the window will alleviate some of this pressure. Maybe it's barometric pressure, The Baby is here in time to drag the houses out to sea. It feels like Michelangelo is carving The David in my head and it's the chiseling I've never wanted. It's Tuesday and the drugs were horrible. They killed five of them today. We wrapped their heads in blankets from the Thrifty, and had to have the interns find clothes that would fit for the Christian caskets. Two days until Giving Thanks Day. I am wrapped in copper and stuck in amber. I am acquitted by nonsense and stipulation, sick with nausea and pushing my forehead into the steering wheel. This is all terrible. The lying I've never told myself. The people that don't even know it's lying. Her and I always seem to escape with our happiness and pleasure in tow. The odds are slim, but our clothes have never fit too tightly.

3

I wish I could ask you to stay, but that wouldn't be fair to you anymore. So instead, I'll ask you to hold me closely and tightly to your heart, and to guide me the entire way. So that in the end, we may be together again.

0

Apr 24, 2014

Apr 24, 2014 at 5:28 AM UTC

victor-manuel-serna

A Wish and a Request

I wish I could ask you to stay, but that wouldn't be fair to you anymore. So instead, I'll ask you to hold me closely and tightly to your heart, and to guide me the entire way. So that in the end, we may be together again.

8