"distrustful" poems
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Fourteen years old
I love you,
Called out,
A promise of returned affection
Timid, unsure
A response to
Insecurities.
Not true.
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Fifteen years old
Distrustful
Cynical
Confused
Emotions flapping about like lost geese
Nothing like all the before’s
So this is what must be
True.
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Sixteen years old,
That feeling
Tumultuous but calming
Broken yet whole
Lost but found
Your deep, beautiful eyes
Painful beyond belief, yet the best thing I’ve ever felt
Simply, it's true
I love you.
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Seventeen years old,
It’s true
What is?
That
You’re my truth
And
I love you.
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted yet
True.
Seventeen years old,
I love you
But…
I ****** up
I love you
But…
I kissed someone else
We never set boundaries
But….
I know I did wrong
I love you
But…
I truly can’t be with you right now.
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Seventeen years old,
You’re awesome
We’re so similar
So,
I love you?
No,
I realize that belongs to someone else,
But you think it's yours.
And that isn't true.
****
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Seventeen years old,
I hate myself
Because I’ve hurt you
Your pain is killing me
Though really, it’s me
Killing you
I love you,
It's true.
But,
How can you ever forgive me?
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Eighteen years old,
I love you
It’s true
But you’re broken still
And I wish I could heal the horror
I caused
For you.
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Eighteen years old,
I love you
Whispered gently
Deeply
Truly
I want to kiss you
I want to hold you
I want to be with you
Can we, please?
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Eighteen years old,
Yes. We can.
I love you too.
I still truly do.
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Eighteen years old,
I love you
But…
Why are you doing this to me?
Why can’t you talk to me instead of hiding behind the texts?
What’s happening?
Please.
Don’t do it this way.
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Eighteen years old,
Tears
Broken
Mind exploding with assumptions
Intuition telling the worst of tales
Distrustful
Hurt
Why this pain?
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Eighteen years old,
Bitter
Am I jealous?
This isn’t good…
What’s happened to me?
Helpless and
Still true
I love you
But...
Who knows why?
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Eighteen years old,
And here come apologies
A letter…. I love letters
And
I love you too
Still,
Somehow.
It's true.
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Eighteen years old
I don’t know what’s wrong with me
Sad
Hurt
Insecure
Doubtful
Distrustful
Broken
Beyond belief
Empty.
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Eighteen years old
And
I keep crying
I cried because you were so caring towards to me the other day
And it was so sweet.
I cried because you hugged me and let me cry on you
I cried because I love staring into your deep soulful eyes
I cried because I feel so much, all the time, for you
I cried because sometimes I truly hate how much
I love you.
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Eighteen years old,
And goodnight dear one,
I still really do love you.
And, I promise you
All of this is true.
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 2:31 AM UTC
ugly men burning their bay leaves
in pots of static gardens
underneath all this cement
your past is looking at you indecently
so change the words around you
you can shift their meaning
its all a game and no-one's winning
your tired emotions accent your poetry
umbrellas are scars that carry symphonies in their hearts
you held my hand as we welcomed god back into our skylines
her face is as familiar as the stars
we originated from
with ulcers open in quiet hurting
your youth are wordless and distrustful of angst ridden authority
in unsuspecting situations love’s vacation is ending
her wedding gown got quite *****
since she literally spent her entire honeymoon
wandering idly into banks of muddy water
humanity is worthy of justice and sweaty romance
i breathe your flesh into my bottle
and we take boundless walks upon the clouds
that straddle mountains, graveyards and cemeteries
fresh from wading in the rice fields
i peeled you a ripe banana
under pressure your sweater came off
and revealed a perfect metric for us to emulate
your eye sockets are two umbilical chords
and your voice is a curved sword that cuts through fear
like the moon slices through the sky
i have held all of this inside for far too long
and now it comes shattering forth
spilling itself over every page
every letter an escapade almost as long
as an Eskimo's pilgrimage to safety
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 11:36 PM UTC
**† † †
A quorum of biblical scholars
turned their doubts into thousands of dollars.
Armed with Document Q
they revealed nothing new
but the dirt neath’ the white of their collars.
A proud “health & wealth” Oklahoman
was renowned as a gospel-tent showman.
While the scriptures he twisted,
their tithing assisted
his rise from poor hick to rich Roman.
A sexually diverse professor
(assured he was not a transgressor)
spoke only of openness
glossing sin’s brokenness;
rainbows and tolerance—yes sir.
A Mormon, who lost his own ephod
Realized he was running quite slipshod
and invoked Joseph Smith.
(Yes, it may be a myth—
but it’s not like misplacing your I-pod…)
A Christian whose faith was prophetic
held to views that were truly pathetic.
This crazed Pentecostal,
not quite an apostle,
had taken an End-Times emetic.
A sober and staid Presbyterian
was distrustful of thoughts millenarian.
After smoking some bud,
he awoke with a thud;
in his sleep he’d become Rastafarian.
A preacher who fleeced his disciples
overdrew his own balance of scruples.
He was finally captured
(defrocked and un-raptured)
and rent by his destitute pupils.
A sister who waxed Pentecostal,
mistook herself for an apostle.
Speaking pure glossolalia
she sure could regale ya’
with prophecy; crazy—but docile.
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 8:12 AM UTC
I will always think fondly
Of the park bench
Near the sad man’s statue
Whose beard of stone
Was sloppily painted
By a bunch of overenthusiastic pigeons
That silly park bench
Where we first kissed
And had our first public argument
About nothing at all
And at the same time
About everything we thought we had
At first our memories
Turned the grass greener
And the skies bluer
And sometimes it seemed
That sad man smiled
Though it might have been an malevolent grin
But soon it became tainted
A symbol of fleeting love
Of passion’s mortality
Its habit of swiftly disappearing
Like cagey, distrustful pigeons
And illusions fuelled by sentimentality
Now I understand the sad man
And consider his faith to be cruel
To want and crave and hope
Yet to be sentenced
His life writ in stone
Near an empty, broken bench
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 7:18 AM UTC
You have taught me so many things
You taught me:
how easily a stranger can become an acquaintance that brightens your day, a co-worker that makes work a little more exciting
how abrupt that pang of disappointment can be when I didn't see your face
how maddening it is to keep your feelings to yourself
how rewarding it is to get those feelings off your chest, because you felt the same way
how crazy butterflies can be - when my stomach would turn in anticipation of seeing you
how childishly young I can feel, giddy with hopes of hanging out with you or getting a text
how both electrifying, and paralyzing, a first kiss can be
that love can grow seemingly overnight and that your whole life becomes consumed with thoughts of the other
that hearing "I love you" whispered from your dear one's arms is what would probably be described as Heaven
that I deserve to feel special, and beautiful, and wanted, and happy
that holding someone's hand or cuddling can instantly make you forget a bad day
how heart-wrenching leaving you miles away could be (even if we were only apart for two weeks)
what the first hug and kiss after getting off the plane should feel like
how nice it is to feel stable, comfortable, and make plans for the future
How quickly everything can change
that sometimes people won't include you, even if you're there for them and even if they love you
how drifting apart can make time stand still
how many tears a single person can cry
that wondering what the other one is doing can drive you into a form of depression
how realizing he's not ever going to be the perfect boyfriend again can hurt
that doubting everything you ever did isn't healthy, because it's not your fault
how not being a priority can make you the angriest you've ever felt
how distrustful I become of believing those words...I love you
that I still feel crazy about you
how it's possible to be upset and mad at someone and still want to fix all their problems and give them everything they want
how hard it is to let go
that sitting at home isn't going to help anything
that thinking about the golden days, when I knew you loved me so much that it was unbelievable even to me, isn't going to bring us back together
that you have a lot of growing up to do and things to work on
that my wonderful prince isn't always wonderful
that I also have growing up to do, and much more to learn
that a few months with you were some of the best of my life and I've never felt more special
how a real relationship should feel - and even though it wasn't perfect, I still feel like it was
And finally:
you won't be the one I have that relationship with, but you taught me what to look for when I'm ready
And for that I'll always be grateful
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 12:03 AM UTC
Once upon a time,
a princess small and fair
sat in a simple wooden tower.
She spent her days
surrounded by stories and songs,
and let the whispers of tales
sing her softly to sleep.
But, one day, a curse fell across her mind,
sent by an unknown spellcrafter.
The curse shrouded the princess’s thoughts in darkness.
The princess grew fearful of every passing day,
distrustful of the ones she loved,
and her stories and songs
became her only remaining comfort.
The princess spent many years
tormented by this terrible curse,
a foul spell that forced her to
doubt her life
and draw her own blood.
She was trapped, frightened and alone,
in her cold wooden tower,
and her only company was the monsters who came
to feed on her fear.
One dark and rainy day,
the princess was startled to see
a pair of warm, brown eyes
peering through her window.
She gazed into those eyes,
and suddenly felt something stir in her chest.
It was a feeling that she hadn’t experienced
since the days before her curse:
Love, and trust.
The princess opened the window
and let the eyes’ owner climb in out of the rain.
The boy standing before her saw
the monsters in the princess’s room,
and he drew his sword.
The princess cried out, startled.
The young knight looked at her and said,
“Never fear, princess. I will always protect you, no matter the cost.
Your monsters cannot drive me away.”
To prove his point,
he ran his sword through the beasts one by one.
One monster managed to escape, scurrying out the window,
but the rest turned to dust on the knight’s shining blade.
The knight turned to the princess and fell to his knees,
taking her small, soft hand in his.
“My fair princess, I have been watching you, lonely in your tower,
and I have seen the curse’s power.
If you would allow it,
I would like to stay by your side,
to protect you from any monsters that may come your way,
and help you find a way to break the curse.”
The princess gazed down at the knight with shining eyes,
then knelt so her eyes were level with his.
“I will let you stay, knight, for I see loyalty and truth in your eyes...and I also see hope.
I feel that you will help me break the foul curse that has been placed upon me.”
The knight lifted a hand and gently rested it on her cheek.
“Then I vow to protect you until my dying breath, princess.
I swear I will never leave your side.”
The knight leaned in and sealed his vow with a gentle kiss,
and the princess gasped as the world around them suddenly brightened,
the tower’s icy chill faded into a pleasant warmth,
and the princess’s darkest thoughts faded away.
She knew that the curse was not broken,
but something had been changed,
and the change was wrought by the knight’s kiss.
She looked at the knight kneeling before her with wide eyes.
“You are meant to be my savior,” she whispered.
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 9:14 PM UTC
You say I'm running from myself
I guess you're right
Maybe I am
All I know is that the reason
I hear my heartbeat so clearly
Is because my chest is hollow
I am made up of layers
Too many layers
As if my skin
Was preparing to survive
Out in dead winter at the South Pole
I'm annoying
I'm distrustful
I'm stubborn
And I'm doubtful
And secretive
Maybe downright manipulative
But most of all I'm exhausted
Exhausted of the nothingness
That I float around in
Exhausted of everything
That comes and goes
Ensuring chaos
Exhausted of everything and nothing
And all things in between
Exhausted of
living
Aug 12, 2017
Aug 12, 2017 at 7:10 PM UTC
BECAUSE there is safety in derision
I talked about an apparition,
I took no trouble to convince,
Or seem plausible to a man of sense.
Distrustful of thar popular eye
Whether it be bold or sly.
Fifteen apparitions have I seen;
The worst a coat upon a coat-hanger.
I have found nothing half so good
As my long-planned half solitude,
Where I can sit up half the night
With some friend that has the wit
Not to allow his looks to tell
When I am unintelligible.
Fifteen apparitions have I seen;
The worst a coat upon a coat-hanger.
When a man grows old his joy
Grows more deep day after day,
His empty heart is full at length,
But he has need of all that strength
Because of the increasing Night
That opens her mystery and fright.
Fifteen apparitions have I seen;
The worst a coat upon a coat-hanger.
3.2k
U gave me that leaf, & said u were never gonna leave, Cause we were meant to live, now I have to Outlive & conceive the pain of grieve,
Who are u to tell me when to meditate? Please go your way and don't dictate, I have been born to innovate, Learn from me and don't aggravate,
Why dig into my past just to excavate things and deliberate , Yet you imitate and commentate and say it irritates, Never hesitate to prostate, Cause it elevate and motivates my innovative.
Even if your silences grieve so loud in my ears, I will never freeze, I will always leave, Because I never lived, I am never relief, I can't be pleased, Even when u sneeze. It only aggravates my pain when I eat, Dats the reason I refused to breath.
How can you call me fake When that's what you are, What you are is what I say , What I have seen is what am saying..
Fake, fake, fake, Fake u are like fanta Colorful yet distrustful Great pleasure Hidden smile, Full of Fantasy, deceitful u are.
You said u were my friend, then why stab me twice and expect me to talk once, U have twined &twisted; me, Enough of the Glossy bossy, mischievous in motivation, Malicious in thought,
Why judge when you can settle to be a judge in a jungle Stop been unjustly, & learn to be justifiable,
Now it's time for u to leave , superstitiously I have lived suspicious u have been, Dangerous you have become, Unpredictable you are , You're definitely a ********* You're never my friend
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 7:24 AM UTC
20
Distrustful of the Gentian—
And just to turn away,
The fluttering of her fringes
Child my perfidy—
Weary for my—————
I will singing go—
I shall not feel the sleet—then—
I shall not fear the snow.
Flees so the phantom meadow
Before the breathless Bee—
So bubble brooks in deserts
On Ears that dying lie—
Burn so the Evening Spires
To Eyes that Closing go—
Hangs so distant Heaven—
To a hand below.
2.7k
For years I’ve had marbles tucked in my mouth,
Different colored weights that pulled on my glands, on secret saliva.
For years I’ve had marbles in my mouth and I forgot to spit them out or hide them away so I let them become permanent placements in my always-cavities; soon they even slipped so easy into my bloodstream.
The black ones made me say yes too often.
The reds made me want to bleed.
The blues made me cry, obviously. They stood guard on my tear ducts, deciding when and how to show emotion. They didn’t let me cry that night. They didn’t let me cry for months. Now I am crying almost everyday, and I am shooting those blue marbles straight to the moon; I’ve had it with avoiding emotion every day of my life.
The yellows made me want to forgive you, made me want to **** on sunshine, made me want to clamber into your mother’s arms, let her know that it wasn’t your fault. The yellows are ********
The cat eyes have me avoiding eyes with every man on the street, so sure they will spit out words that they expect me to lap up like milk with an easy grin, tail twitching for attention. The cat eyes have me distrustful, have me always knowing it could happen again.
The rainbows loosened my tongue, had me admit secret sexualities, let me march in parades and kiss girls, had me falling over myself tripping into love.
I’m not sure who this poem is for anymore, or what it’s even about. The doctors say I have the cleanest bloodwork they’ve seen in a while, I don’t ask them about the marbles. They refer to some of them as disordered.
I’m not sure if they’re marbles anymore, I think they’re just me,
and I’m sorry I’m getting off-track, the marble in my hand right now is glitter and sparkle and confusion and I’m trying so hard to stay put.
Give me the orange ones, the fire, ones that looks like Mars
or Jupiter.
Give me two moons, or maybe sixty-six.
Give me a giant ladder.
This is about running away.
This is about playing with your marbles
and learning everything about them
and staying put.
Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 5:11 AM UTC
It's quite odd how the average man will not commit to run
With any issues challenging his personal smoking gun.
With issues that confound in discomfort’s naked face
Or adopt a stance of reticence when confronted here apace.
Won’t lend a ready helping hand for fear of being held
Accountable for consequence imagined or dispelled,
Distrustful of the outcome in involvement’s disrepair
Would much prefer retreat to accountability there.
A quotient disappointment to the greater human race
Are the spineless who refuse to look directly to my face.
Marshalg
9 October 2013
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 1:25 AM UTC
the
castillo alhambra a
watchful brown *****
on the hill
smiling crenellated un
der grey-silk skirts of cloud &
in wicker chairs mouths
—open (talkin’ bout last night’s walk home from vogue)
—close (swallow morsels of tapas: paella)
& lips shut ‘round cigarettes.
…
… past inactive fountain where children play their various jeugos next to the riverwall and distrustful, rail-thin cats peer from brickwall dens to watch flitting finches bounce on vines & budding branches. it is very warm; the air is heavy as is the ground. man is stuck between like a roach ‘twixt two ***** mattresses // three girls looking at me writing smoking drinking beer eating that paella don’t know what to think.
Apr 11, 2012
Apr 11, 2012 at 5:58 PM UTC
|
|~|
|
Thru the fiction
Of
High school corridors
Ghost-like children
Stumble in their solitude
•
Older than their elders are
Stripped of their innocence
Hardly even human anymore
•
Images of dying
Images of stunted growth
Distrustful of the reality
Of truth's essential
Powers
Merely vague appearance
Lost in worlds unseemly
Stumbling down the corridors
Lost in nightmare's dreaming
••
Poetry of lovelessness
Disguised as love
••
Thus the world created
Is truly dying
The world created
Is surely dying
•
In the loveless madness
Of the high school corridors
Where the demons of society
Control human destiny
And we just stumble on
Thru the corridors
A bursting
Into flames
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 5:06 PM UTC
Oh the irony
When we're young and innocent
Find someone we like and filled with joy
Next, everything falls and crashes
Years later, we meet others
But this time we question
Not them, not others, but
We question ourselves
Can never trust our own minds
Is it nothing more than an infatuation?
We will never know
Oh, the irony
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 6:27 AM UTC
Looking in the mirror tonight
I am 24 years old
I don't know what to make of myself
Pointed chin, seashell ears, hair wet and arcing
forwards from my shower
I'm wondering about my 25th year;
will it be a year of wonders, a golden year?
My left eye says no
It's distrustful, mirrored and shuttered
so all you get back is yourself
endlessly
There's a siren and a dog howling counterpoint:
seems omenish
My right eye looks more hopeful,
like it'll wink conspirationally at any moment
Better to have a star for an eye than the moon,
anyday.
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 6:54 AM UTC
I am a disappointment to my mother.
I don’t call when I’ll be coming home late. My room is wreck. I’m not in school, and I work two dead end jobs at places that don’t matter one iota to anyone in my family.
I curse. I smoke. I drink.
I’m a foul mouthed little child that can’t lose weight and sleeps around and never does what she’s told.
I’m a disappointment to my mother,
Despite the years of good behaviour. The good grades, the chaste life, the driven nature that took me half way around the world just to see if I could do it.
I stand in front of her today, still 6 inches shorter. Still rounder, still brunette. Still foul mouthed and still rebellious.
I still hug her tightly as if she’s all I’ve ever had. As if she is the only stability I’ve ever known. As if all those boyfriends who claimed they’d never leave either of us, as if all of those friends she had that I grew to love, and the pets we abandoned, and the apartments we called home, as if all of those things never mattered, or shaped me to be the distrustful little being I am today.
I still look at her like she’s all I have left. I never talk to her about stuff like that because I know it will only make her mad. Her hormonal short temper and her distrust of my judgement. I know I’m young, Mom, that’s why you should let me make my mistakes now, instead of in ten years when I’m married with children and never got to taste what being wrong in every way felt like.
I’m a disappointment to my mother. I want to have bad times. And hard times. I want to be knocked on my *** by life and barely able to get back up. She doesn’t get it.
She never will. I love her. With all that I am I will always love her but that trust that was once only reserved the only person who never left me, never deserted me and never gave up on me, that trust needs to be placed in me.
I am a disappointment to my mother because I grew up, and now I need to be a disappointment to me.
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 7:18 PM UTC
A girl with an eating disorder
With a monster trapped inside her
Drowning in a world of
Scales
Diet Pills
Alcohol
And perfection
Trying to reach out
And find the help that she so desperately needs
But instead she is met with
Disbelieving, supportive parents
Distrustful, but sometimes helpful staff
And anorexic, bulimic girls
Just like her
Girls along the same journey she is
On the road to recovery
Some get better
Some give up
Because you can not help a person
who does not want to be helped
It is not easy
Will never be easy
But she must push through the pain and suffering
Just like you and I have to
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 4:22 PM UTC
For it was in your love
you taught me
to love.
and wrap my branches around
another human's body
and heart.
and let my tense and
distrustful roots
breathe out a sigh
and relax their muscles.
The gentleness of your love
made me smile, blush,
and feel planted
just where the heavens
made me to be.
Your softness whispered
to me.
and told me
I am brave
and strong
and beautiful.
And your fingers
Would lightly brush my leaves,
making my eyes close
and see the most beautiful
future before us.
For it was in your love
that came a stirring
inside my heart to love,
too.
It opened my pores
and made me
believe that love can
cause any creature
in our world to come to life.
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 1:43 AM UTC
pry it open
clan of lies libido and lily lunged persuaders
etching wounds ills upon those you itched after
letching tightly in patterns
then blooming out in a ring of your 'brothers'
again tightening
breaths oppress breathing
a clenching jellyfish action
offends the natural teaming in a derangement
a loyalty of cowards each one initiation edgy
paid up members linked in ceremony
a skeleton grid channeling away responsibility
thick distaste of the unsightly and abrasive scent
of your speeching spatters
it's unmother worldly
a clutch of an abusive family thing
that psychology that bonds for life
and spans love in all its distrustful ******
violence
not a truth
to mould in his raspy mouth
this is a reputation
repeated sellings
this is not a truth
this is just repetition
persistently boomed into adjustable history
dying over and again
each hand that takes up the stylus
muster evidence
of our mad insistences
the 'sharing' game
snaring the population bulk
and lording over it with
your repulsating power on display
Apr 23, 2022
Apr 23, 2022 at 12:19 PM UTC
your eyelashes showed interest,
your lips showed courage, with a little bit of lust outlining the curve. they've always been distrustful. but nothing was more dishonest than the snow that frosted and layed on the trees, each branch looking like a frozen chocolate Popsicle.
(the branches were dismembered fingers that always reached for something. love, hope, I don't know.
they cracked and crumbled, to their death, to the ground, whatever in reach falling with them.)
I loved talking to you. you didn't think like me, which was good. you gave a reason to your point of view, always (which was quite annoying in some ways and some adorably lovely in others.) having to say your opinion.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 12:30 PM UTC
As I coughed up the
Ash that was Once
Love,
Commitment,
Trust,
My lips black with
Charcoal embers
My throat raw as
Burning
Suffocating
Texture
Like acid, as I expelled
The remnants of my
Heart,
You had spilt liquid
Then lit the flame
Unto my love,
It didn't need words
In his embrace,
Then the kiss in front of my eyes,
My love had been built
In time, I loved you so much
But with not even a word,
You burnt away my heart
Ignited,
Stoked,
Burnt,
Away in moments
That was built off love.
Your tears fell
Many hit upon the ground,
But they were like acid
Scorching the ground,
Fake emotions
Distrustful touch
I love you so much
But know my heart is but embers,
That I expel with each breath,
My lips now black with the charcoal of love..
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 10:47 AM UTC
I can't apologize anymore,
for who I am, who I've come to be,
who I was and will be.
I cannot.
If my person offends you
when I do not speak my thoughts,
and also when I do,
I cannot help you.
I have spoken far too much,
and far too little,
for far too long
not to know
what I should hide
and what I should show.
I have wrestled my thoughts
for years until I've found I cannot,
but instead must observe them with
an objective eye,
cut them open
with an inquisitive mind,
searching for something,
but only to find --
that it is best to let them pass
without consequence,
without permanence,
only resonance.
And if you cannot take seriously
the things I know seriously
of people, the world,
the pain,
then you deserve
manipulation,
exploitation,
desecration.
For I do not speak lies,
and if so,
by mere mistake,
when I speak of what I see,
and what I see is fake.
Too many false words
have fallen on my ears
not to be distrustful
for the rest of all my years,
and not to know and read and see
what people would have come of things.
And I cannot blame them, no.
For we are all full of ***** tactics,
shadowy motives, and schemes.
It is everyone's duty to see this
in themselves,
and to know it must be in others
as well.
And when I try to take responsibility
for not or for
voicing passing thoughts,
and their effects,
only to be met with more wrongs,
and rejects,
I cannot.
For if I am to believe
my responsibility towards you
is meaningless,
then I should seek responsibility elsewhere.
I know.
I know there is much to learn,
and much I do not know,
because I know what I know,
and I know how little that is.
What I know are things about myself,
and therefore others,
that I will always improve upon myself,
or at the very least,
I will try.
So I will not apologize anymore.
For to do so means apologizing for
learning, of myself and of others,
for improving, of myself and of others,
and for trying, for myself and for others,
and I cannot.
I cannot apologize.
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 12:01 AM UTC