"forgives" poems
we always speak of forgiveness
does it really exist?
we say we forgive each other
then we make a fist
i could say i'm sorry
one hundred million times
but the stain still remains
inside of our minds
maybe up in heaven
is the only place it lives
we can try with all our might
but only God forgives
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 6:12 PM UTC
Spirit Dolphin
To be in tune in natures light
To be in touch and resonate
Intelligent communicate
Heartbeats of love and breath of life
Superior to human sight
Your sound waves and reverberates
To be in tune in natures light
To be in touch and resonate
You touch the stars and elevate
Our spirits to become alight
Giving us freedom to ignite
Centers begin to emanate
To be in tune in natures light
Beneath the sun, beneath the moon
You teach us how to breathe with care
Oceanic friend, solar flare
Communicating our monsoon
Teaching in us how to commune
Opening our minds to beware
Beneath the sun, beneath the moon
You teach us how to breathe with care
Your innocence rests like lagoon
On the surface emotions bare
Vulnerability is there
Beneath the sun, beneath the moon
A good omen to protect us
Saving the lives of so many
Selfless creature giving plenty
From outer space some do discuss
To touch you frees us from raucous
To ride with you fulfills empty
A good omen to protect us
Saving the lives of so many
With you we find our playfulness
Self-confidence more than any
Never to lose our assembly
Connect us all with inner trust
A good omen to protect us
Helping others finding our truth
To be One Universally
What might seem strange is certainly
A reflection upon our youth
Make bright our eyes with wisdom's root
Free from shame inadvertently
Helping others finding our truth
To be One Universally
Though we may taste forbidden fruit
What we will learn so artfully
Forgives our aches so perfectly
Flipping through curious pursuit
Helping others finding our truth
© tHE tERRY tREE
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 11:46 AM UTC
(I love) Dignity
*tearing words apart,
a part
of a joy I cannot
explain or share exactly*
knew a man once,
forty two years gone,
died too soon enough,
soon enough,
he and I will be
the same age
this man
a duck out of water,
a stranger in an adopted land,
trouble-stooped, a hard life, well lived,
never bent,
dignified in every step
I cannot remember him
ever kissing me, tousling my hair,
holding my hand, loving me in
a manner I wanted beyond desperately
yet here I am, 5:22 am
weeping tears recalling him
in glimpses long ago seen,
adding them all up to get a
single sum
Dignity.
*tearing words apart,
a part
of a joy I cannot/explain,
share precisely*
dig
in
to
my
chambered memory storage units,
unlocking those rusted locks with freshly oiled
tears
and loving the dignity he exampled
to the son he could not kiss, hand hold,
but taught him the one lesson, digging deep
to respect life and stand apart,
stand with dignity.
all else will follow
the son kissed his children plenty,
in a vain attempt to make up his missed
homework
now the grandfather,
now the grandfather
is still kissing
his last hope, his newest babes,
rolling on the floor,
so silly kissing belly buttons,
smelling their skin repeatedly,
in a manner most
undignified
still weeping
the son,
he tries to sort it out
and forgives and does not forget
the man that taught dignity
in everything,
even, especially,
in slow dying,
forty two years is a long time to wait
to weep.
it takes two hands in the dark
repeatedly
to collect all the waiting patiently
wetness and the
accompanied sniffles,
so undignified,
the son smiles at himself
declaring unabashedly,
digging out from himself
a poem, a self-reflection
on time tarnished reflections
clear enough to make him
sob,
believing*
I love dignity.
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 5:51 AM UTC
Heaven is surely here,
hidden within the
heart of man as love.
This is heaven
that I feel within.
Pure bliss
it is definitely.
My whole being
resonates to it.
I am grateful
for this moment
in time.
Filled with
unimaginable love,
A love that sheds
a joyous tears.
Sacred and pure,
it is here to
keep and hallow me.
A love that
forgives and forgets,
a love that
remember nothing
but just to please
and love deeply.
A love that
counts no errors,
but enfolds and
comforts you.
No guilt or deceit
can ever penetrate it.
Though sometimes painful,
it heals without a scar.
Weighed on a scale of
divine purity,
it binds the heart
with joyful tenderness
and sets it free.
This love
doesn't criticize,
it admonish
with compassion,
not confusion.
That life you
wanted so much,
is in your heart,
it will sprout to bring
glory to your soul.
Never minding what
you see or feel.
If it finds you worthy
will rest and abide
in you forever.
Cherish this
moment always
for you may never
have it back ever.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 12:20 PM UTC
Hustle hard remix freestyle by : junior
(Rap)
Yea young junior baby
Work hard, get paid
Put foods on the table
Pay bills for my parents
My daughter need a kandle
***** I can't handle
Imma hustle hard
If you **** stop me
I will **** you up
Snap my fingers and money come to me
******* im the boss
That what I do
I'm so addict to money like honey *****
Imma making raining on this hoes
******* bend over and touch your toes
Get rich or dying trying
******* I told my dad if I didn't make money
Imma die trying
My daughter is my inspiration
Her smile is my motivation
******* are not my level
I see them pedal their bike
I'm on my Lamborghini niggas
I see my ***** kimbo
Watzup ***** how are u doing
50 cent said, hey homie swish your style up but if they hate let the money pile up.
**** all my ******
Yea kisss my ***
I just miss your funny jokes
If you keep talkin **** behind my back
Imma come and choke you ******
******* I'm not playing
I'm gettin money like 50cent
You *** hoes
I'm ************* *****
***** ****** say, yo jr **** this *****
Yea imma do that ****
While my daughter swimming with the fish
I call her mermaid ******
I'm making money money
You ****** ******* *****
*****
************ ****** wat wrong with this haters
I used to chase ***** until my dad told to chase money
***** ain't my time
Bro, it good tho
I'm wearing bing chain until girls call me **** while ****** hate on me
Let them hate but they can't touch me
Let me take you in the past
When I was a kid
I love big things
Big cars, big house, big ***** and big ****
Dad asked me, son what your fave car
I said, Lamborghini
He said, **** son this **** is expensive
I said, dad I got this
To all this ****** shot my bro cause he was tryin to get money to feed his daughter
**** you, I'm here to **** you up
I'm your ****** nightmare
If you try to get money
Imma come to rob you and **** you
Show no love cause love will get you **** that what 50cent say
All day I'm right here
I'm not goin nowhere
Imma hustle hard until I died
God forgives but I don't ******
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 12:51 PM UTC
Why do you love the one you do?
Arrogant as he lives
Intriguing minds have not a clue.
He cheats, he lies and receives your endless forgives
Security he cannot propose
Financially, spiritually, emotional or otherwise.
Love unfaithfully he bestows
Disguised as Christian he justifies.
Smothered in the cocoon of his limited sphere,
Hinders flight for the beautiful butterfly,
Egotistically the coward oozes insincere.
Sadly pondering, inquiring minds ask Why?
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 12:55 AM UTC
*What lies beyond the bend in the road?
Behind the green pine trees,
Capped with white snow?*
I cannot know what lies ahead
Until I reach the turn
I fear the journey long though
And my feet ache and burn.
This road feels somehow steeper
From when I walked it the last time
Oh, everything is worse alone
Without him by my side.
He was a fearless traveller
Whose words were always sweet.
He said "a traveller is what I am,
I've marched through cold and heat.
I've swam through snow,
I've run through rain,
But no amount of travelling
Can escape me from this pain.
I long to see my loving wife,
So gentle and so kind,
But I fear I've left her alone
Far too many times.
I could not return home now
Her love has long since left,
And to see her with another man
Would surely be my death".
As that bend drew ever nearer,
I knew soon we would part.
So I struggled one last aching time
To heal his lonely heart.
I said "Why do you travel forever?
Why not go home now?
Her love is strong as ever,
She forgives your wandering around."
"There is no other man for her,
There is only you.
I beg you now come home.
Start your life anew."
He said "I am a weary traveller,
I always long for home,
But I cannot be still.
Travelling is all I know."
And though weary he was
He kept walking with me.
But he stopped at the bend
At the edge of the trees,
He said "I've seen you before,
And I'll see you again.
Please do not miss me,
But don't forget me,
Old Friend".
That was many years ago,
And I miss him still.
That road is getting longer.
I am getting ill.
So I return to my empty house.
Through my hair I run a comb.
And I leave one light on - just in case -
My weary traveller comes home
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 11:13 PM UTC
She keeps asking what he does,
though his answers are recycled:
French bulldogs, paintball,
a seventh-grade broken nose.
The basket of fries between them
feels like an interview.
She teases about sweat-stuck bangs,
neon-laced Docs,
his faux leather squeaking when he moves.
Her smile forgives empty stories,
softens each silence.
Condensation slips down her glass,
her knee brushes his,
a spark he does not catch,
his throat working like a valve.
The door opens, closes,
a draft carries smoke and cedar.
distant wildfires.
Outside, a truck unloads shrimp.
A box bursts on the pavement,
pink shells and thawing ice
sliding into gutter water.
Curses flare into the alley.
Engines idle.
Hydraulics hiss.
The stoplight clicks red to green,
green to red,
its metronome louder than either of them.
Somewhere past Brockway Summit
a ridgeline blooms orange.
Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 4:52 PM UTC
Its easy to forgive the faults and failings of our friends
For love makes it so simple -if some word or deed offends
We try to understand them- for we know the inside out
And if we love them very much we cannot blame or doubt ...
Its just a little harder to forgive an enemy ,or someone who has censured us or done an injury
Its hard to overlook it and be loving,sweet and kind,although we know we've got to,to preserve our peace of mind.....
But to forgive yourself!
why,that's the hardest thing of all
We all do things that we regret,the strongest sometimes fall
We call ourselves all sorts of names ,how angry we can get with self-reproach and worrying and useless,vain regret....
Yet when we whip ourselves like this ,we break our forces down,it robs us of our self-respect,turns smiles into a frown .....
If God forgives us surely there is nothing we can do
We've seen our fault and paid the price and learnt the lesson too....
So banish it this very day and cast it from your heart
Forgive yourself,forgive yourself and make another start.
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 4:49 AM UTC
He's the hand I felt on my shoulder as the tornado went over me . He's the one who saved me from choking to death in my own ***** . He's the one who sat beside me on the mountaintop as I cried over my wrongs . And if I ever kneeled before him he would take my hands and raise me so I could kiss his cheek . Who is God ? My best friend who has saved me time and time again . Who understands my limits and my failures but forgives me each and every time . One who is always there for me to lean on when I am tired , lonely , discouraged . One who has shown me heaven and promised a place there for me .
Who is God ? He is in me , my past , my present , and future . I am nothing without my God .
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 2:03 PM UTC
*When most of what I see
I just don't understand
With back against the wall
Leaving little left
When the voices in the air
Tell me that I can't
Reminding me of the things
In this life I've said
When all four walls
Are closing in on me
Having a devil of a time
As he won't let me be
When all in front of me
Looks like impossibility
That is when I feel the need
To get down on my knees
When I think about
All that God has done
Thanking him for sending
His one and only Son
When I want to give back
A portion of his love
When He forgives out right
For my many wrongs
When I think about the fact
I have been set free
When I look upon the Cross
And what it means to me
As I am thankful for the call
And that I payed it heed
That is when I feel the need
To get down on my knees
When I gaze out at the world
And the shape it's in
Looking at it deeply
Into the sinful heart of man
When the flame of torment and sorrow
Is being continually fanned
As I see it setting fire
To a once great sovereign land
When I know the answer
But I need the strength
To shout it from the mountain tops
To the valleys deep
When looking for the answers
That keep eluding me
That is when I feel the need
To get down on my knees*
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 7:56 AM UTC
When words are not enough,
and the world won’t get off her back,
she dances the Devils way,
She’s a princess,
wait she’s a queen,
wait she’s an angel,
wait she’s everything,
a Goddess,
the hottest performing artist I’ve ever seen,
and she’s dancing,
dancing is her therapy,
I mean,
I’m not James Brown,
but it’s a man’s world,
even if Rihanna runs this town,
See,
she’s been suppressed all her life,
and I’m not just talking about Rihanna,
I’m talking about every girl that was ever forced to be a wife,
just to survive in this life,
she was touched by her father,
or brother or cousin,
when she was just a little girl,
I know we all wish it wasn’t,
but it is true,
so what’s a girl to do,
when she’s a clean 13 messing with The ***** Dozen,
this isn’t battle of the sexes,
this is war of the worlds,
wants to be a woman but she’s just a girl,
no No Doubt just burnt out nerves taken turns,
she never asked to be born,
with the burden of being beautiful,
but she refuses to conform,
she is attractable irrational and radical,
so when it’s all too much,
the stares and the catcalls,
the aggressive forceful touch,
the nails across her back like a blackboard,
and the moans become just white noise,
she takes it all in,
she forgives the man because he’s just a boy,
he is an angel even if he has fallen,
she takes it all in,
and she uses all of those abuses,
as the fuel with the tools which induces,
an allusive state of truth which,
allows her to move with intuitive smoothness,
and lose herself in the music morphing into what a centrifuge is,
separating fluids transforming what was otherwise useless abuses,
into a truth that cruises and confuses the stupid stooges,
she dances,
in a statement of glorious refusal to submit to their ideals,
she is more than a princess queen angel goddess,
she is fire burning up all preconceived notions of *** appeal,
the real deal,
dancing sweating cleansing her soul and her pores,
moving faster in progression refuting repression,
overcoming an obsession of oppression and knocking down all doors,
she is not a possession,
though she is possessed when,
she’s a dancing expression of how we all feel and more,
no words are enough,
she shows what we all feel,
she reveals what,
was before thinly concealed,
she is the perfect expression,
of imperfect circumstances,
she is poetic stanzas,
she is the paint on the canvas,
there is no question that she is the answer,
and all of this is made clear when she takes it all in,
let’s go of everything and dances…
∆aron L∆ Lux ∆
#strength #metoo #dancer #ballet #blackswan
Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 1:48 PM UTC
*He pick us up when we fall,
Forgives us, as I recall,
He hears us when we call,
A true kind king so merciful.*
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 9:44 PM UTC
"There is Gift" everyone says,
he is just a mystrious guy to us
that we all have never seen.
But i must i agree it is lovely to
call out his name....
His our "gift" but her "Gift"
a gift that remains still in her
heart.
But i must agree to some little jealousy stuck in me,
for their love makes the world jealous,
their calmness, leads to
compromising.
She smiles all the time we say his name.
She forgives everytime things go wrong.
Our "gift" her "Gift"
his name translated to Zulu "Sipho"
a friend has composed a song.
Gift is the name,
the name of the guy that lightens up her day.
Our "gift" her "Gift"
she so much loves him.
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 6:45 AM UTC
going outside nowadays is just a game of
who can hold their breath the longest and of
looking for reasons to pass the time in your
own backyard but the gardens i see are only for
the literary muses haunting writers into submission
and for digging up holes with plastic shovels and
for wishing that i could pick up the daisies
and place them in your hair
i was in the middle of drawing a circle when
my arm quivered and now the line shoots
way past the paper and it's currently
undulating over my desk and zooming past
a caterpillar that's contemplating whether the
process of becoming beautiful would actually
make him beautiful when he already knows
that he is beautiful
i hope the god i pray to forgives me for
making all the lines i write be about you
May 3, 2021
May 3, 2021 at 1:20 PM UTC
Fresh after the rain
I hike in the woods.
The leaves are turning to
yellow yams, auburn brick, pumpkin pie.
The ground is wet and the wood is damp.
The leaves lay vibrant on their death bed.
I turn around.
I see through the spaces
fallen flowers,
departed shrubs,
vanished birds,
the trees that once protected my eyes from the placid lake.
The air is bright with mist.
The grey sky surrounds me.
The cold breeze comforts my skin,
and forgives my lungs.
I take it all in.
But the cold air can never forgive
the dying trees and life dissolved.
Others will pass by.
Leaves will crunch and crumble
under feet that won’t realize the forest decline.
The music to their ears will return each year.
But the crunch will fade.
Less trees, less leaves.
A Decrescendo,
A whisper.
Silence.
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 6:19 PM UTC
The land flooded,
the sky was dark and wet.
I had reached the bottom of my jar
and there was no glory.
It was all drained away and swallowed up by careless mouths.
A pool had formed
in the flooded land
and in it sat two boys;
young like adolescences
yet humble and mature with knowledge.
I felt like I should know them,
but their faces were masked by their black hoodies.
And their voices matched everyone's
and they matched no one's.
One beckoned me to swim to them.
They were familiar
in a welcoming stranger way.
So I submerged into the comforting warm water,
and I slowly swam next to the boy.
The one who beckoned asked me,
"What is your story?"
and
just as easily as unzipping a jacket,
I spilled out my worries
he soaked up my loneliness and aches,
and I found myself
curled up in his arms.
He took my empty jar
and filled it with a glowing light.
The land surrounding
was still cold and dark
but the light inside was the one thing that brought me
warmth and renewal
and undying hope and joy.
He was the holy man.
Who welcomes everyone
and forgives everyone.
He is equal.
He is greater.
He is the one who sat in the flooded land
and waited for me
so that he could give me
a wholesome warmth
that I've never felt until now.
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 3:28 AM UTC
God is in the shadows
deep in the pocket of that rose
an impossible color, beyond crimson, the epitome
of crimson, so crimson tears spring forth
This is where God, silent, drunk,
on vacation, slumbers
God is nowhere to be found
not in dead fathers
not in demented mothers
not in fading ex-lovers
not where spiders lurk
not in the boom & beat of adolescent children
It is the sorrow lodged somewhere between
breast bone and lung, sorrow the size and shape
of an island, a mountain,
the texture of wet sand
the weight of wet sand
It is this that snatches away my breath upon inhaling
A life-long sorrow, sealed to skin
as surely as metallic paint to a pan -
It hangs on with a cage fighter’s tenacity
locked in fierce embrace
sorrow coppery tasting
sorrow flaked in my hair and
Draped over the sofa, cat-like.
It just hangs around -
changing to heat, radiating at a dangerous level
nuclear, capricious, then, as time passes
just a presence one becomes accustomed to,
like an aging dog or webs above the bed
Its cousin, malevolence, its twin, melancholia
family to my family, blood to my blood –
dropping down from the shower head as I bathe
sorrow becoming holy, beyond flesh
It holds hands with the musician I’ve known all my life
and dines regularly with that other writer
We speak of transformation, you and I
of becoming other than ourselves,
as though we can unzip our flesh and find a whole
new identity underneath, throbbing, pink, blood-pumped
and with this, go forth into the same old world
that remembers transgression and forgives nothing
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 4:04 PM UTC
Loving feelings can restore
balance to relationships.
If you can only bring yourself
to make it happen.
**** the ego and selfish pride
that imprisoned you.
Set yourself free and
go for the one
your heart seeks.
Nurture the one whom your
soul loves.
For out of your
efforts to come out
of your cocoon will emerge a
beautiful lifetime relationship.
A love that is deep
can flow like the
river that leaves its
bank and flood
the whole unimaginable places.
Just like a finger
dipped into the oil
can infest the whole fingers,
so is the love that
forgives penetrates
the whole body
and **** all the
vulnerability to
show it's wounded
face to the sun
without being shy.
Acceptance is of
extreme importance
to bring desired pleasure
to placate and nurture
the heart to heal.
With pleasure the heart
is reverted to a blissful
sequence that is lovely
where both hearts will
feel safe enough to let
their inner child out
of the box to play.
Victory is accorded
to such a joyful end
while the relationship blooms.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 6:58 AM UTC
God always comes first
A man will never exist without Him
He made man in His own image
He creates us
Breathe in life in us
Guides us from infant to adult
Protect us and lead us
Forgives us
Watch over us everyday and night
Even as our body and soul goes to sleep
He bless us with many abundant things in life HE Bless with wife,kids, family and money to take care of them
He is not a man...He is the mighty supernatural being
He does not discriminate
If money could buy life many rich people will live forever
He does His things with equity and fairness
As a gives both poor and rich, tall or fat same life.
Above all He gives to a man a Good wife
A good wife is to a man God's blessings and a miracle
A good wife is made out of a man's rib
To become a helper
A companion
A good listener
Created to restore happiness to man
Man always need her....
To build a home...a happy home
To build a future...a bright future
She will give up many things just to be with HIM
She is always committed to her husband
Always by his side to encourage Him and support him
She is always by His side both in good and in bad times
She is the number one fan of her husband
Always ready to fly her husband's flag all over the world
Even when He isn't functioning to His best...she always knows the right time to suggest
A good wife brings the best out of Her husband. With love and understanding
And when he looses his way..she is always there to guide Him
There was a saying that ...................
A beautiful wife pleases the eye,but a good wife pleases the heart, the first is a jewel while the second is a treasure
All a man could have to be happy and have a peaceful and happy Home is God and a good wife
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 9:12 PM UTC
*What is a family?
A group of people that uncannily
look, sound and act as one?
A shared DNA strand?
A whole of many parts?
A scientist may have the answer.
A psychiatrist, a therapist, an evolutionist.
But, my theory is this:
a family, hurts, cries, argues and defies
those who want to tear them apart.
Bloodlines, evolution it's in the mix
but, family hurts, loves, hates and
forgives in equal measure.
Hurt one of us, hurt us all.
Hurt us and I as elder sister will pay you a call*
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 7:34 PM UTC
“Why seek the Living One among the dead?“
asked angels to a few who‘d watched the Lord
be crucified—His blood and life outpoured,
“He is not here! He‘s risen as He said!“
In days before these women wept in grief
as Jesus‘ lifeless body, wrapped in shroud,
lay buried, guarded, sealed from Paschal crowd,
but by God‘s plan entombment would be brief!
His slaying served full payment for the debt
incurred against Himself by mankind‘s sin.
His raising proved His sacrifice the win
to satisfy God‘s wrath, my debts forget!
Because Christ Jesus died but ever lives,
the sin of all who trust Him God forgives!
Apr 15, 2022
Apr 15, 2022 at 4:42 PM UTC
the moon in my city,
a hazy crestfallen hue,
those who gaze up to
its beauty, remain few...
the moon in my city,
betrays a tired air,
wrinkled stench in
reflection, oh despair!
the moon in my city,
glides the benign sky,
paddles a silver paddle,
bemoaning why, why, why!
the moon is my city,
but has a mother's heart,
it forgives oh so easily,
so gently does it part,
for at the break of dawn,
or on a pensive twilight,
look, there is the moon,
in eternal evasive flight!
the moon in my city,
the moon in my city...
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 10:30 AM UTC
Yes, I'm that type of person.
I'm the type of person that gives up when it's hard.
I'm the type of person that can't stand to be alone.
I'm the type of person that's naturally depressed.
I'm the type of person that can't stand company.
I'm the type of person that's completely unmotivated.
I'm the type of person that forgets myself.
I'm the type of person that's emotionally weak.
I'm the type of person that changes by the hour.
I'm the type of person that has limited will power.
I'm the type of person that always sees what's wrong.
I'm the type of person that can't speak.
I'm the type of person that's often ignored.
I'm the type of person that doesn't pay attention.
I'm the type of person that rarely finishes.
I'm the type of person that allows chaos to happen.
I'm the type of person that can't always love.
I'm the type of person that has so much selfishness.
I'm the type of person that's stuck inside myself.
I'm the type of person that can't always see.
I'm the type of person that dwells in the dark.
I'm the type of person that becomes insensitive.
I'm the type of person that feels everything to the extreme.
I'm the type of person that dies at dusk every day.
I'm the type of person that tires much too quickly.
I'm the type of person that just doesn't care enough.
I'm the type of person that won't let you in.
I'm the type of person that has a low self-esteem.
I'm the type of person that raises my confidence by faking it.
I'm the type of person that's often getting lost.
I'm the type of person that's different.
Yes, I'm that type of person.
I'm the type of person that knows who I am.
I'm the type of person that gets back up to try again.
I'm the type of person that isn't afraid to ask.
I'm the type of person that offers help, even when you don't need it.
I'm the type of person that remembers what it felt like.
I'm the type of person that sees a person's soul.
I'm the type of person that usually thinks things through.
I'm the type of person that doesn't regret mistakes.
I'm the type of person that strives to be better.
I'm the type of person that has so much to give.
I'm the type of person that's concerned when you are not.
I'm the type of person that tries to be happy.
I'm the type of person that accepts the ones around me.
I'm the type of person that tries to understand.
I'm the type of person that still tries to work hard.
I'm the type of person that enjoys every silence.
I'm the type of person that dwells in notes of music.
I'm the type of person that won't stop loving.
I'm the type of person that forgives in an instant.
I'm the type of person that knows how to relax.
I'm the type of person that works towards perfection.
I'm the type of person that sees the good in people.
I'm the type of person that accepts my own differences.
I'm the type of person that is firm in my beliefs.
I'm the type of person that is open to change.
I'm the type of person that accepts my sexuality.
I'm the type of person that tries to be pretty.
I'm the type of person that can possess so much confidence.
I'm the type of person that is one with mind and heart.
I'm the type of person that creates peace around me.
I'm the type of person that knew you before you did.
I'm the type of person that you won't forget.
Yes, I'm that type of person.
But most importantly, I am myself.
I will meet you when you are yourself.
And I won't forget you.
So, please, don't forget me.
Yes, I'm that type of person.
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 10:14 PM UTC
It is the mundanity of the act,
of envisioning your hand gently wrapped around the copper kettle.
Obstinately gripping the pen, while you wring a sheet of paper dry for the right words.
You, cupping my face as if you were holding something precious.
As if I might slip through your fingers.
It is this devastating simplicity that obliterates every shard of my being.
A brick wall, left at the mercy of a gleaming sledgehammer
that is determined to turn everything to dust.
I see your hands everywhere.
In the haze of steam and shower curtains,
the lines dragged in velvet throw pillows,
the cloudy smudges left on a glass of water.
They run faint paths through my hair, their touch ghosts against my eyelid.
If I stare long enough,
your palm is right there, pressing into mine.
Silver cuts through the air and delivers a redundant blow.
The dust scatters once more.
You did not leave a hole
the way everyone said you were bound to.
Empty space cannot exist without everything that surrounds it, yields to it, forgives it,
validates its gaping hollowness.
Empty space is a needle and thread on the dresser, a sellotape dispenser on the desk, a container of soup left on the doorstep with a get-well-soon scribbled on the lid.
Empty space is where you can see remnants of what once was whole.
The faith and conviction that bit by bit, you will put your fragmented pieces back together again.
The nothing you left was so thick and suffocating
that it permeated every room,
filled my lungs to bursting capacity and left me gasping for more.
Its sickly, bitter fragrance danced relentlessly in my nostrils,
as though my suffering was the sweetest symphony ever heard.
It waltzed until I could feel it rising in my throat and leaking from my eyes,
twirled until my head spun.
The nothing you left insisted on making its presence known my every waking moment
and then gleefully romped its way into my nightmares.
It was so quiet, though.
A resigned quiet, like that of the ****** swinging in the gallows,
when everybody holds their breath to watch the pendulum sway.
The crossbeam glistens with last night’s rain and
they trudge back home, muttering to themselves as the dust settles beneath their feet.
I sink into sheets creased by your fingers and watch it sway.
Aug 21, 2021
Aug 21, 2021 at 6:45 AM UTC