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Shay Lovelace Sep 2014
You’re so beautiful to me
No matter what it is you see

Imaginary flaws and scars all too real
Make you cry and cut to try and feel

Nothing makes the pain go
And everything seems to make it grow

Left alone when you needed a friend
You tried to make your whole life end

They found you there upon death’s door
Laying, bleeding, on the floor

Then flashing lights and sirens’ wail
Told the world your dreary tale

You’re forced to verbalize, to tell
To speak about your private hell

Been taking the hard path all along
I know it’s hard but you’re so strong

But I can hold you; let you cry
‘Til every single tear is dry

And on that day is when you’ll see
That you’re beautiful not just to me
Written for a dear friend.
Shay Lovelace Feb 2014
I thought of you today and the world stopped,
As my heart carved your name on the underside of my ribs.
I feel hollowed out and I’m terrified.
Because, for a moment, I forgot you.
Everything about you.
Even that you’re gone

I remembered what day it is, what it meant, what it means,
Why it sticks out in my mind like some morbid anniversary.
And now I feel sick on top of feeling scared.
Because how could I forget you?
Anything about you?
Especially that you’re gone?
written on the 12th anniversary of my dad's death, 10 February
Shay Lovelace Sep 2014
Papers stained with the intention of creation not to mention inspiration; what else is there to say?
Words don’t rhyme, rhythm off?
Forget proper grammar; it don’t even matter.
Writing quick ‘cause it’s killing me; the words blind me ‘til they’re all I see ‘i’ ‘c’, ‘i’ before ‘e’ except after ‘c’; there’s a rule for the grammar **** in me, all for some nonsense poetry.
Don’t peg me as a revolutionary; I’m just a girl trying to find her place in a world not ready to see with eyes like hers. But there’s a poet in me.
A poetic soul, like a void inside, a deep dark hole only these words can hide.
Lay down my expectations and last minute explanations ‘cause I’m running out of time to sell you this line or lie – whichever you prefer.
Open to negotiation but not your adaptation or alteration; I’m sick of it.
Don’t censor me, above the ******* industry; I’m writing ******* prophecy.
Strung out like another me, alternate reality, nothing between but blackness, a time lapse, a ******* realm of nonsense or maybe it’s just poetic license.
It’s hard to tell with everybody screaming at me. All of ‘em telling me to be or not to be but it isn’t real, least not to me, but it doesn’t matter.
This world’s gonna beat the soul right outta me and Imma let it.
Don’t have the ******* drive to make it happen; just sit back and watch the action like a scene straight off the silver screen, reading lines derived from the paradigm meaning ‘til they’re meaningless, even less, lower than the score on my last Pre-Calc test.
It’s for the best I guess, cause the pressures off (though if it was ever on it had me fooled from start to finish).
I’m in this and don’t think I can’t win this; there’s nothing I can’t accomplish if I put my mind to it and invest my time.
This is mine; a personal test of triumph over temptation versus all’s clear and smooth sailing. I’d rather bust my *** and fail than be worthless, getting everything my way on a silver dish.
I’m strong as iron, tough as nails, and with the wind in my sails I’m taking off, blasting off, into that nothing between here and actuality.
I’ll see you on the other side if you’ve got the ***** to try and follow me.
Spoken Word, Stream of Consciousness
Shay Lovelace Oct 2015
I barely got to know you; I never even got to hold you,
But, god, I loved you, baby.
To the moon, to the stars, to wherever you now are, I loved you.
And, believe me, I’m far from the only one.

It’s so unfair that we’re down here and you’re up there but you won’t be alone or forgotten. Because not now, not ever, not for one moment will your memory fade.

Cruel ‘what if’s and ‘could have been’s will stick with us too, for time, poignant and painful as such things can be, but don’t doubt for even a second that you, our little warrior, my little Beastie, were worth every moment of joy and heartache a million times over.

I took a shot for you, you know; I’d take a hundred more, a thousand, or however many it took to get the chance to see you look up at me with big blue eyes that remind of simpler times, noonday skies, and warrior cries.

There are chances I wanted, countless memories I wanted to make, a lifetime of stumbles and laughs I’ll forever long to see and hear. But you’re still there, will always be there, even if it’s not the way I thought. Even if it’s not the way it should be, it’s the way it is, and I find solace in the fact that now, at least, you feel no pain. And if we must hurt so you can have peace, well, it’s a price we’re all willing to pay.

Because you, little man, have been so loved in your short time with us, precious and so special, that there isn’t anything in this world or any other we wouldn’t hesitate to do.

Our little warrior, the little boy who conquered everyone he met without need of a smile. The little boy with the heart of a lion, whose fire burned brighter than the stars above. Whose fight touched people and whose life – brief but shining bright – made them stronger

We’ll never forget you, Wyatt.
And, in the time we have between now and when we see you again, may we all try our hardest to have the strength that you did.
I love you, Wyatt.
RIP
July 23 2015 - October 1 2015
Shay Lovelace Nov 2013
Stoic, strong, world-wary (weary) beyond years
Teary but not torn, wrecked and wretched but not worn
Young in face but old in taste, in breath and waste.
This hole in chest, my bloodied breast, its’ gaping maw of murdered rest,
Makes me neither cold nor heart-less.
A deathly howl – the darkness comes rushing, crushing ‘til both deaf and blind.
It finds me there, binds me, holds me down
Surrounded by a sea of stones, all alone,
Tear-soaked fears drop without a sound, streaming silently on hallowed ground.
As rain falls from hazel skies
And graying clouds make hazy eyes
My head, my heart, my whole is heavy;
Their ev’ry word etched with clichéd sways, makes and stays, urges prayer and praise
But it’s silent cries hidden behind too loud lies that breaks the silence of my soul.
I’m falling into this role while you follow a road I’m told leads to someplace better.
There’s just not enough ways to lay 26 letters to explain how much I miss you.
These hands, this pen, fail me once again as I bend beneath the weight that you missed me too
In the end; it’s more than enough to rend my fragile heart in two or ten,
Driving emotions behind self-made walls so tall, so wide
With me, so small (too small) on their other side.
It’s the only way I know to stay sane though I know it insane the way my brain tries to deny these feelings tearing up my insides.
Inside me, there was something once, I felt it.
A fate, a destiny? A test or three,
Something that made me see something that doesn’t ask or try or beg or buy –
A place beyond this that doesn’t have a word for goodbye.
Scars cross scars ‘til they’re the only verse I read
All that makes up the curse-soaked pieces of me and mine, poison and whine.
I wish I could find the rhyme or reason to this madness
This sadness, this depression that reaches into, out to, blood and bone
That makes me rage and moan and swear and groan.
I drop to knees and bear a weight beyond shoulders’ strength
As l add your name to a list whose sight still sears, where faith and fears collide.
I’m forced to hide until I see it; your face –
A light breaching, reaching, into even my darkest place.
Now, the space is filling – yesterdays and laughter cuts and sprays in star-bursts and rays –
A remembered time of sunny days, a memory loop that plays and plays.
So, like it, I’ll keep moving, keep screaming
Keep fighting to keep believing anything at all to keep this broken-heart beating.
It won’t last; I’ll never not be grieving.
In every endeavor, no matter weather or whether not I think it behind me at last, passed and past,
I know, forever, that
I’ll only (always) miss you when I’m breathing.
Written in commemoration of my grandmothers death.

RIP
Emma Mary Dumhart,
my Mom-Mom
1926-2013

— The End —