"dysfunctionally" poems
I want to scream
I want to yell
But then you do that cute little thing
Where you pull me in close,
and tell me you love me
I try to move on
I try to forget
But I can't help but forgive
Every time you gently cup my face in your hands,
and kiss my pouting lips
You've made me angry
You've walked out on me
But then I hear a knock on the door at 2 a.m.,
and there you are standing with a bouquet of daisies
(you know those are my favorite)
We laugh
We cry
But the good, happy crying,
and it makes me feel the intimacy
This endearment
This relationship
It all seems to be a mess
But I couldn't wish it any less dysfunctional,
and trust me when I say this
I love you.
I love you dearly,
you crazy, crazy boy
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 12:03 AM UTC
I've used up all my bandaids
And lost them all
My days compare
to a rollercoaster's rise and fall
Rather than the steady trail of a train
Where are all my bandages? I cant find them
I used them for my wounds
But they disappeared
The cuts burn
And the bruises bleed
I no longer care
I have no bandages and no bandaids
I can't complain
The wounds are self-inflicted
I relish the pain
It's alright
The wounds are a work of art
Emotional
Delusional
Dysfunctionally comfortable
But what good is a bandaid
To a broken soul
A painkiller
To a faulty heart
What good is a smile
To hidden tears?
Sep 1, 2017
Sep 1, 2017 at 2:03 AM UTC