"footseps" poems
Her ceramic mask hid everything I already knew
It's a reflex keeping her soul alive
Smile girl
Smile girl
Laugh when your head hangs heavy
When you never thought you'd breathe deeper than this
It's amazing I've been saying
All the things you're capable of
She might not be as pretty
Might be early aged
Might dance decietful
Making people look more graceful than they actual are
But she can't be any more human
She can't be any more human
than me
or you
She wears a mask
statue hard
and beautiful
Her neck is strong from the weight
People want it to shatter
People who don't wear theirs as well
You've gotta be low to keep people low
You've gotte be willing to be *****
To make others *****
She is better than that
I know this
because I've seen her naked
Flayed her smile
like breaking a clock
She ticks a metronome of humble heartbeat
Is a wonder woman
that makes women wonder
How it is
that she can smile
when being kicked in the mouth
by her own feet sometimes
How she swallows sadness in beautiful breath
palms miming
exaggerating the air in her chest
She knows she can breath deeper than this
I see her for who she is
and who she was
I accept her broken beauty
Relax
we're human
and I don't want to keep you low
Stand up here with me
Where the both of us can see
how our angel wing footseps can keep us light on our toes
I look at her
after the overflow
and I know she wants me to leave her alone
No one wants to be seen
after stepping of scene to change costume
I see you
She steps heavily back into her boot straps
Slides on her angel wing shoes
I tell her I think she is beautiful
She puts on her mask
and says
Thank you
Apr 28, 2012
Apr 28, 2012 at 9:26 PM UTC
Heard your footseps rumbling from the corner of the stone
You're the giant that I'd step all over on
Dont be so uptight, you're not on the top of the world
But you go around saying you might aswell be
Cuz tellin lies has always been your expertise
I've come to sense-- you were never my cup of tea
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 9:53 PM UTC
with shivering hands
and silent footseps,
we are the children of
gore, misery and pain
we turned to wolves
and broke the people who
did nothing but live their lives
in sweetness
we are blunt
and boring little
creatures
who prowl
the outside world
with care
c.s
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 5:24 PM UTC
The morning begins with another bottle. Her
broken mirror has already spoken its lies,
crucified her with a stranger's face invading
her bathroom.
Later
the stairwell does not echo her footseps
as she descends, carefully, one foot, then the other,
the exact placement of each step thoughtfully
considered, planned out and
executed with a grace that is almost
Procrustean.
She leaves no shadow behind herself, throws
away words into the deep green silence.
They fall.
I could get a job, she tells herself,
listening to the silence of her footsteps.
I could blunt the stings of honeybees,
gather the nectar of drones.
Her feet sink into the softness of the stairsteps.
At the bottom, she opens the locked door of the mailbox
hugs junkmail to her breast.
Her fingers leak tiny drops of blood
over the sealed envelopes. Her mouth
is full of dust. She eats her memories.
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 3:35 PM UTC
soft the raindrops on my face
gentle the breeze at my back
warm the sand between my toes
soft the words you speak
gentle your lips upon my neck
warm your body next to mine
soft the sound of you sleeping
gentle my fingers upon your cheek
warm the tears that fall on the sheets
soft the closing of the door
gentle the footseps as i leave
warm the regret that burdens my soul
warm the first steps to hell
gentle the push off the cliff
soft the mud in the gutter
Jul 30, 2017
Jul 30, 2017 at 8:17 AM UTC