"headfirst" poems
when people are in love
they often say
they simply fell
tripped over their own two feet
face forward
and into the arms of their beloved
i did more than simply fall
onto the ground of your love
you, for me
were an ocean
and i dived
headfirst
roughly
harshly
almost painfully
into the waters of “you”
i knew i could not swim
but i did so anyway
i was drowning
entangled in you
surrounded by this being of “you”
engulfed in this feeling of “you”
and i did not know what came over me
but i let myself drown
i did not try to swim back up
because if i went back to land,
releasing myself from your grasp
that would mean losing the feeling of “you”
and after
submerging into the depth
the love
the passion
of “you”
how could i ever leave?
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 2:10 AM UTC
i.
I intentionally failed to wish you
a happy birthday this year,
though I know significant dates,
hours, moments, people,
by heart.
I still search for you in boys
I mistake for bandages,
the ones with eyes almost
the same shade of your hazels,
lips resounding your laughter,
resembling a wisp of your smile,
But they aren't you.
ii.
Sometimes I pretend you're dead,
because it's less painful
to stop reaching out into voids.
iii.
My mom still blames you
for everything that preceded that year.
Though you probably had no idea what happened
when we stopped talking altogether.
Can you believe it's almost been three years?
iv.
My dad wonders who was my 'one that got away'
Though, I'm pretty sure he knows
it's you.
v.
Remember how I mentioned Sylvia Plath?
How most everything she wrote
brimmed with melancholy?
How I loved every single word?
Especially that piece
where she talked about expectations
and disappointments.
You'll never know that
up to this day I still think
people are selfish enough to
always, eventually turn into the latter.
Even you.
vi.
It's sad I never got the chance
to tell you about Ted.
How she loved him so much,
she just had to figuratively dive headfirst
into the flames-- burning herself,
what was left of her--
after she found out
he never really loved her
the same way
she loved him
in the first place.
vii.
*truth is,
some of us
never learn to accept
the love we think we deserve.*
viii.
I don't know if you still read my poems
or if you still think about me,
about us, sometimes.
Every time you fall asleep past eleven,
a part of me hopes you do.
because I always remember you--
in birthday candles, red ribbons,
off-tune voice records, golden arches,
concrete sidewalks, pedestrian lanes,
the last flickers of city lights
softly fading out of the blue.
I remember you
in everything, in everywhere,
in everyone.
It's useless, no matter how much I try to forget.
No matter how much I just want to forget.
I want to forget.
But, how could I?
When forgetting means forsaking
the very memory of you.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 6:00 AM UTC
Spiraling
down
a pit
of anxiety.
When suddenly
A
f
r
e
e
f
a
l
l
headfirst
short
sharp
burst.
And then
P r o c r a s tination
spilled un e ve nly
on a tiled bathroom floor.
Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 3:07 AM UTC
This poem casts a line from insomnia to morning
On the wind of a prayer that whatever bites, holds on.
See I have counted eleven score and ten,
with rainbow like curves of my neck -
contemptuous beasts leaping in formation
each bleating out a preach of vague platitudes;
A narrative for the night sky.
My hands clamour at keys for escape
until I tumble headfirst into a web so vast
it has ensnared the whole world wide -
millennials are living in-ter-net over in-the-world;
a new ultraviolence against humanity.
I beat my words into the screen until it breaks;
shattering scarlet emoticons like confetti
pouring over language as if it were a compliment.
My mind massages shapeless polypous thoughts
like tight constricted muscles aching for release.
3am casts these philosophies into horses,
whipping them into shape and speed
before the eyes of this statuesque ******
This anxious wakefulness begs my manic self to dance;
suggestively ********* tickets to ride like cleavage.
Sleep is fast becoming a neglected former engagement;
as my mind trips over fallen heroes
wades through my favourite mistakes
in a wonderland unfolding faster than I can fall
while the world beyond my window remains dark.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 10:52 PM UTC
Remember, that chaos first was a primordial deity,
Chaos; the nothingness from which all else sprang
headfirst and heartfelt,
half-naked and handsome,
hook, line and... halibut.
All of this,
every measurable moment,
every particle,
every object set forth in motion
sprang from a void so harmoniously
as if the absence of everything was kissed
sudden
by the presence of something.
Often depicted with wings, a bow, and a quiver of arrows,
Cupid, son of Venus - goddess of love,
son of Mercury - god of trade,
his story,
almost identical in Greek and in Roman
mythology,
his story, about a couple of gods
who seem so inherently human by nature,
jolted by jealousy,
dumbstruck by beauty,
hellbent on immortality,
his story has been hallmarked
as red hot velvet rose petal fine wine
and symmetrical hearts.
Wrapped in tin foil red ribbons
bitter-sweetly sugarcoated
dipped in thin layer of chocolate
taste-tested and lover approved.
Remember that scene in Hook
where Tinkerbell leaves her footprints on Peter's chest,
well that's you and that's me--
touch me where my heart beats
because I don't ever wanna be a lost boy.
I wanna grow up like a good bedtime story
with morals
and purpose,
I wanna have meaning.
You might say that Cupid found himself.
You might say that Psyche found her soul.
You might say that Tinkerbell was just faking it--
with the clapping.
Truth is, we can never know the whole story--
the complete truth.
Problem is, we think we can
and act like we do.
So the only time we mean what we say
is the first time we say it,
every utterance thereafter is just an attempt
at recreating a moment.
I love you
is a paraphrase
that deserves three separate ellipses
because there's a lot left unsaid.
I (distinctively remember shadow-boxing with)
love (against a star-dotted sky anchored to a
moonlight so vibrant it can only be compared to)
you (and your tidal waves).
And that's where I fell
headfirst and handsome.
I (was punched-drunk by a kiss so breathless
that it spiked my dopamine to a volume
that can only be described as) love
(in that every time my neurotransmitters feel) you
(they spin themselves dizzy and dance to your science).
There was a moment in the absence of everything
when I was kissed silent by the presence of something.
Hold me to your breastplate.
I don't ever wanna go back to the void.
02/09/2010
Feb 14, 2012
Feb 14, 2012 at 2:03 PM UTC
You know that poem about your lips?
And the one about your soft caress?
Those doesn't apply to tonight
My thoughts are not slow, not gentle
The softness of your touch
Throw that out the window
I want it to be rough
Forget the foreplay
Lets just start the play
Tonight, I'll let you pick
Want the handcuffs, without the key
Or do you want the stiffness in a whip?
Forget the bed, take it to the floor
Give you a spank, and those headlights,
I'll get a grip untill they're sore.
If you must have a good kiss
Then I must ask you, girl
Which lips should I give this kiss?
Is it the control you crave?
Well then, cowgirl, load the gun
Grab the bearings and give them a roll
Tonight, let's let it out and have some fun
We can go on a mission, happy trails
Take it to the couch or even the table
Leave welted streaks with your nails
Turn up the radio to drown the moans
Back up and head down, we can mimic the dogs
Pillow, headfirst to muffle the groans
To the edge of the bed, make it wet
I don't want it easy, darling
All I really want is to get
That shirt off your chest
Those jeans off your ***
Those curves are the best
Lets not let this opportunity pass
I don't want it easy, baby
My thoughts are not gentle, not slow
So come on woman, lets go!
Jan 30, 2011
Jan 30, 2011 at 7:41 PM UTC
There’s this winding path inside
that calls to us all
a simple dirt road that beckons
‘round an unseen corner
not knowing where it may lead
we must follow it
we must roll up our pants
and kick up the dust
leave behind our dignity
and dive headfirst into the mud
feeling the tendrils of an unknown future
tug at our spirits
we must follow it
so as to keep our souls within our bodies
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 9:03 PM UTC
A hand on a throat, where if all fingers touch, the throat
turns to ash. The villain of an anime I now watch
clutches the hero with his middle-finger aired
before the vital moment. I jump
on holiday off a cliff
and my chest stumbles with simulations. My body angled
poorly as I could slap headfirst. I was warned that my feet
should sink first if I merely fall. If I dive, my fingers
should first touch the water. I am depressed
the months before. College student, America. So far off, so cold
from the landlock of my birth. And the summer
study-abroad, double-abroad. In Italy
I was watching the Creation show itself on old ceilings
in marble-rooms, looking for some culture
that might have been ours if not for the pillagings that brought
gold and bodies to shape that gold into buildings like this. So I jump
and fall. And shiver emptily. It is the same feeling as the nights
on the bed thinking of futures without this self. Thinking as if
I did not exist. Ignored emails from therapists. And here *this
feeling!*: it made me want to live. So I jump again
on the higher ledge. My friend afterwards asks if I'm okay.
I'm shaking slightly. I'm without words. I laugh
with the same absence as any birth. A baby's confused cry
without tears. A long way down. What blue-green water,
as if dug for in the earth and sold for courtyard dances.
It glimmers all over my body, frizzes
up my hair as my ****** curls soak it, squeezes it down my face,
down towards my neck like fingers.
The villain walks away. The next time the hero sees him
he should be careful. He will have decided to **** me by then.
Dec 4, 2018
Dec 4, 2018 at 11:51 PM UTC
Her eyes are sinkholes in a quiet, sleeping state
and I was a girl, lost and misplaced at twenty-one,
looking for love in infinitesimal spaces:
on her palm creases and chipped, ruby nails,
and in the blown-out ends of her lotus tattoo
I find myself tracing a secret,
at the spiked tips of her hair tamed by fairy lights
and on the slits of her skin — a rabbit hole of wonders,
I always fall like Alice in sworn careful tiptoes
and crash headfirst; a broken wishbone, a tainted wish
some habits you just can't quit.
like —
October and her obsidian eyes, and the sunless ways we kissed —
being lost and misplaced made sense for a while in the detached comfort
of her cold bed, colder hands,
warmth has become an oppression.
But this dalliance has always been a disaster waiting to happen
and I am a paramour, a memory, a face in the crowd
swallowed in a seismic fall —
and losing October has always been a disaster waiting to happen —
this bed, always a site of a losing battle
and I find myself in a soiled, torn dress,
lying helpless on the other side of her war.
Tonight, I light myself a candle;
maybe one day, I'll finally learn to run away from a girl made of disasters
and not towards her.
Oct 16, 2022
Oct 16, 2022 at 1:39 AM UTC
ever since my childhood broke and the safety net disintegrated
I've been running and holding it high above, arms aching
in a futile attempt to stop things falling through
woven seams. Sometimes it works and I stare up,
neck burning, to the things I cannot touch.
I do not look down to the debris scattered around me,
to the failures of my braced shoulders, slipping through like water;
impacting like stones.
once I caught a fisherman; he threaded silver secrets
through twine using smiles and sympathy and I lowered my arms, to keep him alongside. There were some places he couldn't reach but
that was ok, because we ran for an eternity ensnared in each second.
it was a particularly beautiful day when I noticed him slowing,
staring out to sea, steps faltering and new smiles forming that
were not faced to me. He left me and dived headfirst, forgetting that
fisherman cannot swim. He drowned as I ran on, arms outstretched
above me as the net danced in the wind and everything fell through.
I have never stopped, never ceased these thundering steps;
my eyes are still turned to the sky, the holes in my net cast
beautiful shadows and through them I see the stars and wait impatient
for the night when they too fall.
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 10:52 AM UTC
Who decides life is not worth it?
You?
God?
When you reach this point, questioning living, breathing, you play god.
You feel your mind make,
take,
break
and create
new processes never felt before; a process of passion,
confusion, contradiction and confession.
You strive just by the thought of not surviving.
The
downfall
of a
suicidal
mind.
Painfully and buried deep down the impulses slip out.
Screams for hopes, answers, connections, positive aspirations.
Constantly wondering is this it?
Is this the end?
That your life can never peek again,
so the result of your collapse is an
eternal slumber with the devil by your side.
Whispering in your ear telling you about the ache
and sorrow your sinking heart and conscience feel.
An eternal hell. An eternal anguish, torment, suffering.
Do you stay in the hell on earth or hell in the after life?
You examine all the details
over and over
only thinking of your lonely pitiful life.
Meaningless and outrageous.
Screams moving around trying to get out but only
bouncing back inside of you to find
the little nothingness in which they are in seek of.
Literally, are taking you in and cutting you into
the smallest treads as possible over and over.
Never letting up to give the one underneath a second break.
Pounding as hard as possible.
Thudding and pulling, twisting and hurting.
Neither end nor good.
You can feel the over whelming sense of your corruption
taking you headfirst and choking your every last breath off.
Cutting it away like a river being eroded by things we cannot control.
Your life you cannot control.
People you cannot control.
You see the only outlet in your mind
but it burdens you with insanity behind it.
Taking life; your own life.
The reasons are bliss.
Sweet tender resolutions freeze
over your tempered thoughts,
fragile thoughts of a
suicidal.
Unaware of the footprint left behind.
Your stomach churns,
stirs
and confusion
sets in once again.
You feel ***** rising in your
throat about to implode
but it’s just an illusion created
in your mind;
hallucinations.
Questions are still increasing
their intensity and passion.
With every moment of aloneness and isolation,
the time ticks away from you until you feel as though
you will fly into a rage.
You take a deep breath;
intense thoughts.
Questioning right verses wrong;
life verses death;
now or never.
Take a step back
and pull the trigger;
welcome to the end.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 3:27 AM UTC
The clouds separated the Sun from my life for too long
I wondered if it even existed
And if it existed
Would it know I existed?
It's warm companionship eluded me
I was frozen in the wastelands
I donned my armor of ice
And embraced all that is frigid and bleak
My feet turned into rockets as flowers bloomed all around me
I rode headfirst into the sky on a jet of pure nature
I cut through the friction in the air
And exploded through the clouds
The Sun's disorienting light loved me
Without vision I flew to it's warmth
When I reached the Sun I kissed it on the mouth
and we danced around the galaxy
And the Sun radiated our love to every living creature in the universe
But the Sun abandoned me out in space
The Sun returned to giving life to all
And I am but one
I just thought that maybe I could help it give life
Because at one point I was a star
Now I'm just dust
Is it so selfish to want it's power for myself?
I've been floating in darkness for a while
And I feel very Alien: Isolation right now
But this is no game
And Sigourney Weaver couldn't fight my monsters
Game over, man
May 22, 2017
May 22, 2017 at 4:44 PM UTC
Give me warmth in a close and quiet port with a song unwritten
So when the wind unveils her pride I will not know
I will dive headfirst into uncharted waters
Write the words to the song
With my harp of gold
Send me a reason to leave my warm and quiet port with you
So when the wind unveils her pride I will stay warm
We will dive headfirst into uncharted waters
With a new song unwritten
In both our arms
Promise me I will not long for the song unwritten I wrote alone
When I leave my warm and quiet port to write for you
Then I will dive headfirst into uncharted waters
Write the words to a new unwritten song
You can sing too
Our song will hold a thousand nights of memories of bliss
To keep us warm when the wind unveils her pride
We will sing each word together in harmony
While we dive headfirst into waters
With our warmth inside
Jan 17, 2011
Jan 17, 2011 at 1:59 AM UTC
Anorexia was the most attentive
Girlfriend anyone could ask for
And I fell hard for her
I fell for for 500 calories a day,
The sense of control it gave me
Compliments from girls I'd never talked to before
Doctors so pleased that I was finally "healthy"
That feeling,
Of stepping on the scale
And realizing that I took up less space
Than when I'd stepped on the day before
The feeling of water hitting an empty stomach
The hunger pangs
That secretly thrilled me
The thrill of the lies
The ones that became ever so easy
To slip off my tongue
The thrill of a secret love affair with death
I fell for an abuser
I fell...
Literally
Bruises lined my body
From bumping into walls
Because my body was so
Malnourished I couldn't
Walk down a hallway
Fell down a rabbit hole-
Fell down into a world I couldn't escape-
Thigh gaps, thinspiration, tips and tricks to
Hide this wonderland in your head
Walking headfirst into Anorexia was like walking
Into a haunted house
It's fun and exhilarating at first
It's a game, it's harmless
And then you realize that the doors
Are barred and it dawns on you
That ringing the doorbell of death
Was not the best idea
I am a study in skinny does not make you happy
The 5 pounds you wanted to lose
Turns to 10
Turns to 20
Turns to...
I am a study in
Every inch of your body being a warzone
Of standing in front of a mirror
Seeing nothing but a piece of meat
Taking up too much space
I am a study in calculation
I am a study in lying
I am a study in not dead, but not alive
I am a study in starvation
I am a study in falling out of love
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 9:15 PM UTC
by J.M. Romig, Ryan P. Kinney, Morgann Blackwood, and Aaron Kasunic
Here’s to vices and virtues
To living without apologies or regrets
To breaking in order to heal
This old bird no longer caged
She gets to look on the other side of the bars this time
He gets another stumble in the hallway
A headfirst dive into a bottle of pills
Purple sharks and goats
That glow in the dark
Banana dimpled belugas
Swimming wildly asunder
Then I met God
The most beautiful of all my conquests
I knew no one else would quite match up to her
Her hair in the porch light
Looked like the thunder god had an ******
Her face still cannot be manifest
This woman,
The most beautiful thing I’ve seen
She lingers in my conscious
And has a major role to play in what will be my swan song
If experience has taught me anything (an unlikely assumption)
It is that if a woman ever tells you
-Straight up-
That she is a *****
She is not lying
There are exceptions to that rule
As I myself am quite exceptional
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 8:39 AM UTC
The optimistic existentialist
getting by on
the vapid knowledge that
nothing has meaning
but thinking it might
someday.
The shallowest
deep-thinker you’ve ever met
in a constant war
between vanity and philosophy,
drowning in mirror-hating narcissism
and my humble ego.
Introverted loud-mouth
socially inclined,socially incapable
assertion-loathing people-person.
Vengeful peace-maker,
violent pacifist
fists littered with deceptive,
fallacious,faint purple bruises.
All these things are the
drip drip drip
of drops in the bucket
of a level-headed psychopath.
I dare you
to dive into the water,
headfirst,
of my mind
where I constantly contradict myself,
like it’s a game.
Nov 17, 2012
Nov 17, 2012 at 10:44 PM UTC
everything is changing
i feel like my train is late
and im not sure i even want to get on
doing this scares me
i envy all of you
you who jump in headfirst without thinking
i wish i was more like that
not calculating everystep
wondering when its all going to crash around me
feel the air around me
like i could walk on clouds
flying in the sky
not being afraid of falling down
letting go of it all
just being
for once
i just want to be.
is it too late
or is my train still waiting
will it take me there
to the place where the air is all around
where clouds are soft and fluffy
where i can jump and not be afriad of falling
is this my train
im not sure
i guess for now ill keep waiting
im just not sure
cause right now i just wanna jump and fly on my own wings
no train is gonna take me there
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 1:37 PM UTC
Holding broken pieces of past in the palms of my outstretched hands
Reasons evade me
I sit here struggling to understand
The edges dig deep
Causing tender skin to seep scarlet drops
Taking Tylenol to pummel pain until it finally stops
I'm ready to give up life and dive headfirst into my grave
It is difficult for me but I must admit my soul is far too gone to save
The devil stole it from my bones and doesn't plan on giving it back
Without it polished surface falters and slowly begins to crack
Jul 10, 2023
Jul 10, 2023 at 4:04 PM UTC
I’m slower than most
I walk my own pace
I speak my own words
To match my calm face
I’ve never moved fast
I’ve never rushed time
I’m cautious I know
But it’s worked out just fine
Until I fell for you
I knew not of speed
I dived in headfirst
I lost track of my feet
But quicker than that
Was the length of your stay
As I miled-a-minute
You pulled far away
Now my heart rate has settled
Back to slow and reserved
I miss the thrill of your rush
With my caution unnerved
I’m slower than most
But I just never knew
How painfully slow I’d be
Getting over you
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 3:23 PM UTC
I burned my hand making Christmas cookies
for my small chosen family-
hoping that it is enough to thank them
for keeping me from falling headfirst
and loosing myself to my own mind.
Dec 20, 2020
Dec 20, 2020 at 11:03 PM UTC
How do I show my beauty?
By just being me.
By embracing the things I love in life.
By feeding into my energy.
By diving into my creativity.
By leaning into my curiosities.
By embracing change and striving for improvement.
By showing empathy.
By digging into my strength and endurance.
By practicing mindfulness.
By harnessing my focus.
By utilizing patience and compassion.
By feeling strong emotions.
By loving my nature.
By moving with passion and resting in good reason.
By needing nothing else outside of these.
These are the beautiful things that come from within me.
All that’s needed of me
is to dig within myself,
to dive headfirst
and fully submerge into the water
and pulling out these attributes-
these facets of beauty,
reflecting the sunshine
like the scales of a fish,
the cuts in an emerald,
the ultraviolet color in flowers and birds.
Jul 13, 2023
Jul 13, 2023 at 11:15 AM UTC
Peering out the window,
I thought I saw you weeping
I thought, my mind in limbo,
That I glanced you dreaming.
-
It was as if you were right there,
Standing shaking in the rain,
Water off your short hair,
Your frown reflecting pain.
-
I thought I saw you standing
Beyond the trees out back,
I am not quite understanding,
Why still your sight attacks,
-
The nerves inside my chest,
And the bottom of my gut
Adrenaline in my breast,
And the wind wont upon my foot.
-
I could have sworn to up above
That I saw you beckoning,
The water, showing what once loved,
Into somehow in front appearing.
-
You saw me looking towards you
I tried to hide my face,
You tried to hide your smile too
I glimpsed it in your gaze
-
I know I didn’t dream this today
I thought I saw you, truthfully,
It was not longing in that way,
I was just caught off guard, you see.
-
Perhaps you may have seen me too
At one point or another,
Walking the streets that we used to
Or just holding each other,
-
But honestly I do not long
Verily I do not pine,
Although it would be nice in song,
I know you don’t feel at all fine,
-
I know I must make you sick,
I know I must make you weep
Which is why today your image yet sticks,
And your broken smile doth creep.
-
Which is why today I wondered
Wherefore you even passed me by,
Fictional in my mind of blunder,
And too afraid to question “why?”
-
Why then did I even witness you,
Walking across my path,
I spied you from my bedroom,
At quickened pace so fast?
Then you stopped all of the sudden,
To give my window fair gaze,
You must have seen my face be sullen,
And given yourself great praise.
-
Although, I know you think of what could be,
And maybe not being happy,
But if I could ever wish it clear,
Perhaps I would wish you be here,
But then again perhaps I not,
And first dive headfirst into cot,
And see I don’t just wake up again,
And find out of window, you are pretend.
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 12:18 AM UTC
It started out as a flame
Flickering
Dancing off a matchstick that was an idea.
It kindled an idea to help renew,
To regenerate what was once lost.
The fire grew
And with it
A passion that could not be extinguished.
The warmth was welcomed by her body
A body so cold
So helpless against the dangers of the world
And herself.
The fire gave power
And with the power there grew an inferno
Once ignited, could not be smothered.
The fire whispered
Through smoke and cinders;
It whispered
To encourage the distressing ideas that flowed through her.
She was frozen
Frostbitten to the bone without the fire
And so
To stay alive
She stayed close by the hearth.
When friends became concerned
They tried to call her back
But she was too attached to the blaze.
While the smoke tangled in her hair
And coursed through her veins
She drew in ever closer.
She huddled towards the light
That was leading her to her dangerous desires,
Cutting everything off
Except for the sea of flames.
She clung to her damaged thoughts
And kept the fire steady.
Going almost unnoticed
Her skin turned red and warm;
She was too happy to embrace the heat.
She understood she was too close,
Yet she rose from her perch
Roused by the incandescence
The feverish luminosity.
She
A mere mortal
Drew within reach of the alluring fire.
The flames licked her face
Her hands
Her hopelessly lost mind
As she dove in
Headfirst.
Everyone she had turned away watched
Unable to help.
She registered one single thought:
It's too hot.
But
It was too late.
She couldn't step away from the furnace;
For suddenly she was bound by ropes of her own doing
A funeral pyre just for her.
She was stuck within the depths
Of the scorching fire she had so arduously cared for.
She tried to call out
To those just outside the fireplace
Watching
Witnessing
But the fumes enveloped her
Stifling her pleas,
Her cries for help.
She couldn’t breathe
The embers burning her lungs as she inhaled,
Silencing her voice as she exhaled.
She flickered for a second more;
The life left her eyes.
She collapsed
Leaving ash and bone to intermingle into nothing.
What she had once mistakenly perceived
As an idea,
No larger than a matchstick,
Was something she could not control.
But no one could control a fire that destructive
Or
Deadly.
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 9:53 PM UTC
we start out in the middle of a spider's web, where doors surround us that lead
to grassy roads and rocky roads, difficult to maneuver through, but i've walked
on burning coals and left my fingers bleeding from scratching at your door like
a dog abandoned in the winter frost, because i felt more secure with the honors
of you destroying my house built out of marshmellows and toothpicks, and i
don't want you half empty or half full, i want you coloring inside and outside
the lines overflowing the spaces of my heart you occupied and called home,
but i'm responsible for raining on your parade and shattering your soul, but
even i know all these ways of binding you to myself with glue, duct tape, stitches,
gum, staples, paperclips, knots, can't keep under wraps for long, so i will let my
clouds swell with compassion you couldn't understand because you're the flashlight
in my haunted forest, shining a light on any ghosts that seem damaging to myself
because you've always been there to guide me back home and keep me from falling
from grace headfirst, but mother nature decides what sickening plot twist will destroy
us, and you know i can't control the disgusting weather but i wish i could.
- kra
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 9:48 PM UTC