"reassured" poems
"Friendship day"
A growing trend
To recognize, appreciate
and celebrate a friend,
Had many friends,
co-traveled the journey
Many left when paths bend!
A question bothers today,
On this friendship day,
Can all be named as "friend"?
"Friendship for companionship"
and
"Friends for benefit"
These terms mostly fit!
But the picture is not always grim
Some stars hidden mostly,
light the life,
Whenever it's dim!
Friendship cycle too is
sinusoidal,
"Friendship in hardship"
and
"Friends for life"
Proved the best!
These types are rare,
but in need, such friends
are always there!
True friends don't need
an earmarked day,
They are together
Irrespective of distance
in the night and day!
True friendship doesn't
really need an occasion,
Whenever they meet or talk,
life becomes "A celebration!!"
Since friendship is reassured
in this way,
To all my friends from HP
"HAPPY FRIENDSHIP DAY"
Aug 5, 2017
Aug 5, 2017 at 10:45 PM UTC
Love bears all things
- or does it?
I don't know how much more I can take
- but I love him.
I'm scared and weak
- I don't know where I stand.
Back to the beginning
- all over again.
Tired of being reassured
- I don't want reassurance.
I want to reverse our love's senescence
- Its death won't procure my compliance.
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 3:08 PM UTC
I talk words of lust
with a boy unaware
I know not if it's unjust
if he knew that i would dare
To be touching lips with another
and another after that
3 boys who want me
and on top of that...
an ex-lover who awaits
her love to be reciprocated
by one she had wronged
by me, yes, I she has wronged.
and alas, the sister of a friend
whom i am confused upon
if i should love her or not
fool, you may think that she is the last one
another girl at school
she is but a year older
i see her from time to time
rarely i seek for her
she is but a crush
the sister, but a dream
the ex-lover - such a waste
and though it may seem
that i am an adultress
because of all these men
but judge me not
i don't belong to any of them
commit, you say
it is for the best
but if i do so again
i may have to rip out my chest
it hurts beyond words
and the pain - i may not be able to bare
and i'd have to swallow the hurt again
till i am too numb to give a care
so tell me, kind stranger, what would you do?
if you had 3 boys and 1 girl loving you
another girl, you might love
and another girl, as a crush
don't you think it's a tad bit too much?
though, i can't control it
I need to be reassured
that though my love betrayed me
this broken vessel be cured
by something more real
it has to exist
something i wont be afraid to love
something far greater than a kiss
something others cant take from me
something thats just mine
something that i can have
and keep for all time
so tell me, kind stranger, do you take me for a fool?
you think i don't know that such thing is hard to find?
that it is but impossible
because i am still so blind
i'll find my happiness
i pray to the gods i do
but only once i stop thinking of finding it
is when id find you
you. whom i have poured my heart and soul out to
without giving a rat's ***
one i'm not afraid of - i'm afraid of everything.
you, who is not wearing a mask.
if you tell me that you're right there
id lose all faith in man kind
because i know you're not
i know that now.
if you tell me you wont hurt me
don't say another word
because i know you will hurt me
i know that now.
but i can love myself
i can live for myself, too
i know that now
i don't exactly have to live for you.
it is my life
this is my world
but i'm lonely
because i'm too scared to be that broken hearted girl
the one who cried
the one who swore
and hit her lover
and walked out the door
even if i could
i wouldn't change a thing
because through this mangled heart
i can love true again
someday..
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 10:31 PM UTC
Everyday, hell every minute I get to call him mine
I fall deeper and deeper in love.
I decide that I'm going to give myself to him.
Time doesn't slow down,
And so I decide to follow my heart.
Trusting him with everything.
We pick a playlist, a date, and a time;
Then we make love for the first time.
It was everything I wanted and so much more. His gentle embrace afterwards assured me that I had picked the right guy.
But life happens, and and after a few more times, my parents find out.
Two months.
We had only been dating two months
And what seemed like the end of my world had begun.
Tears fell like snowflakes on a cold December night
I expected him to leave me
But see, this is the first time my luck changed when I needed it too.
He held me through the tears
Picked me up when I was hurt
Reassured me that he would never leave
He was strong for the both of us and made me smile when he could
Possibly the biggest obstacle a high school couple could face was thrown at us early in our relationship
I guess we should've waited.
But I don't regret my actions.
We endured it, grew closer, and loved each other like nothing had changed.
Loving him was the biggest epiphany I've ever had,
I stopped trusting the universe and put some faith in myself
And the ones I loved
The world has been brighter ever since.
Hard months pass.
We attend his Junior Prom
I slow dance for the first time
And the Star Wars series is completed.
Before we realize it, summer is in the air, along with it our half year milestone.
6 months pass with this boy and I feel as if he asked me out just yesterday.
We spend the day together and I thank him for the wonderful date and kiss him goodnight
Under that full moon which has watched my relationships end, he holds me close after our kiss.
With teary eyes he thanks me for the best 6 months of his life.
I hug him teary eyed as well.
I shut my eyes and take the moment in.
His scent, the cold breeze, and the cicadas singing to us in the dark.
If there is a love anymore true than this, please tell me.
I look up at the night sky at the distant worlds and ponder our own
Earth may be my home planet
But I know that I'm holding the other half of my life in my arms.
My parents begin to ease up
Theres talk of college in the air
I start to feel happy once more.
I paint my canvases with bright colors
And begin to stain blank pages with my life story once again.
A new sun is rising.
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 2:44 AM UTC
Reassured by your passion forget all the strife.
Pick up your board and skate away life.
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 5:56 AM UTC
There's more that meets the eyes
And this will never change
It's too complicated to explain why
The answer will never be the same
Just remember to hold us when we cry
And beware those moments we act insane
Sometimes a firm, warm place to land
Is the only thing to soothe our weary brain
Were difficult at best, impossible at worst
But true love is always on our mind first
Some women want the finer things in life
Some just want children and to be a good wife
Others need to be held and reassured constantly
Some just want to trust and receive honesty
No matter the woman, you'll never understand us all
But keep in mind... There's no greater feeling than the fall
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 4:11 PM UTC
Teetering on her baby legs
A newborn with a Solo cup
bombastic red with a few
undulating ribs
Held firmly in her hand
Is this her first or her third?
Somnambulant yet eager
And just a little out of place
In a foreign territory
On newly contested lands
She stumbles through a raucous crowd
Or was it just white noise?
She’s lost her companions
Somewhere
Although they could very well be close at hand
In the distance she can make out
Laughing faces
Bodies moving to and fro
Spilling forward, little messes
Throwing back cheap libation
She passes through a room and out the door
Into the out-of-doors
Someone following her unbeknownst
Watching her cautious, curious steps
And when she turns and sees the blur standing
She greets it
“Hail Fellow!”
Bouncing from variable to variable
Frequency to frequency
Confident and in command
Of a seemingly controlled chaos
He approaches smiling and holds out his hand
Anonymous
Having drawn her attention from the stars
That she could not find above
Leaning against the garage’s eastern wall
She takes it awkwardly
Tentative she smiles back reassured
Wobbling she returns standing alongside him
Or was she in front?
Purposeful and en route
Emboldened by his presence
And how the way was parted before her
Just by his being there.
By being so close.
She felt vaguely special
it showed in her half-smile
Cloaked in bangs
She held her head just a little bit higher
The co-conspiratorial glances
Met by boys eyes
And shes
Went unseen by the girl with the
Solo cup
One of tens upon tens upon tens
A coven would have known
It’s better not to
However.
She was shown a seat to rest
And her cup refilled
She takes a sip and smiles again
She takes another and then a gulp
That spills
He takes the cup away
And places it on the low table
Suggests she go to the restroom upstairs and get herself
Sorted
Embarrassed she is relieved for direction
Someone knows what’s going on
And his caring
Taking the time
His kind eyes
She’s usually alone
She waddles up the stairs to find
a toilet and a mirror
God she thinks
I look a mess
She tries to fix it
The hair
The eyes
The lips
The dress
The stomach
The *******
The thighs
She shrugs her shoulders at her reflection
Exhales and steps out again
To find him standing there
waiting for more.
She wants another cup.
She’s missing her cup.
I’ll get you the cup he says
In just a second.
Come.
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 3:53 PM UTC
I wrote about you, day and night
You are my moon, you are my sun
I wished for the day when we would finally unite
Like the stars in the galaxy, shining bright
I was dreading the fact that the day might never come
When you wrap me in your arms and tell me it's fine
When you utter those words and protect me for life
My dread was increasing, my hopes were decreasing
I slowly shattered into a deep despair
Losing all senses of a fulfilled life and hope
I thought that the fantasies and dreams in my head are unrealistic and are merely an illusion
But then there you were, my protector, my hero
You grabbed me right at the end of the cliff and held me tight
You reassured and brought my soul back to life
You were my protector, and I was yours
We are now, now and forever, inseparable
For we suffered too long in the absence of one another
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 2:30 PM UTC
Dust on fans, cluttered rooms
you're still beside me
I know that's true
red nights, take it how you like
you're still beside me
I have to thank you
Darker thoughts, and mistrust
you've reassured me, no matter what
I trust you, I do
Past has bruised me,
but eventually they disappear
yours have not, I see that daily
Ill tread with caution,
you seem to save me
Daisies, and messy clothes
my muddy water remains,
We share a lake, you and I
with turtles, fish, and cranes
dragonflies coasting above our rippled waters
our lake is never dry,
you seem to save me,
you and I.
Oct 11, 2015
Oct 11, 2015 at 8:38 PM UTC
An imaginary but desirable sense of control
Created by the bully in my head
Screaming at me, pressuring me, hurting me
Encapsulating my mind as a second meninges.
Impossible to separate my true thoughts
From what it tells me,
My conscious mind is tied to a cinder block
And left to drown in its enticingly rough waves.
My physical being constantly changing with the tide
Unpredictable but regular,
Shallow but deep.
****** into its infinite black hole,
I am left feeling disgusted and ashamed
Of all that is me.
No longer am I able to decide the way in which
My needs are met-if in fact they are met.
As though I have DID, I am constantly bouncing
From alter to alter
Body to body.
Blinded from looking directly into its sun,
I am warmed and comforted by its rays
While reassured that my doubts are unwarranted.
If ever defied, it scolds and whips me,
Like a master to his slave,
A father to his child.
The welts and cuts, gratefully rip into my
Skin, muscle and bone –
Punishment for my wrongdoings and self.
I, immediately silenced
Remove myself from society,
Restricting contact, nourishment and emotions
To nil.
It is not until someone notices
The beginnings of an eternal invisibility,
That I am released and
Able to breathe in
The salty air of life.
Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 9:29 PM UTC
Laughter jaded by the debris of frowns
Glee of seeing my cousins, spun into a web of pain!
This reunion is a funeral for the lost
Basically the dead, because she won’t return again!
Every person looks into my eyes and I can tell
That everyone else is also in Hell
Just wondering what had to of happened
For there daughter, niece, grandchild to have such a blackened heart.
But please i’m trying to move on
Already starting in the direction of healing and that makes me insane!?
Is the core confusion in conversation around the dinner table, seating forty five
“Please everyone we will all survive”
I say it loud but barely believe it myself
This was supposed to be a party, but turned into a part of me leaving.
Feeling like I’ve only been disappointing
That I messed up something
I’m reassured that the tears are not my doing
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 10:29 AM UTC
I’ve got a small house made of cobblestone,
and I have a mountain made of chairs.
I’m safely inside; withering to the bone,
and hanging onto my last remaining hairs.
I know what awaits outside my window
and I won’t open the door for anyone.
It’s not like I have any special place to go,
and I don’t care much for the beating sun.
The lights are all off, but I risk a candle
in truth it’s as much light as I can handle.
It’s solely so that I prepare for the battle
against the first foe; the lurking shadow
we all know.
But when a voice rings out
begging and pleading for my help,
asking me to simply let them inside.
I’m more worried about myself,
and preserving what’s left of my health.
I can’t prevent it, I run and hide,
I refuse to go outside.
Savor what’s left of my last breath,
today I won’t be tricked by death.
I let the stranger into my abode anyway
I guess I let my compassion get the best of me.
Emphasizing he had only minimal time to stay
he reassured he wasn’t tricking or testing me.
“Don’t you miss the trees and sun in a park,
why do you live like this way?” is what he said,
I replied “I’d rather be nothing in the dark,
instead of being dead.”
I won’t fade into my made bed.
But he’s the one that is bleeding,
medical attention he’s needing.
But I won’t let anyone into my fortresss of solitude.
Tells me he’s not trying to scare me
but letting him in was already daring,
I just can’t stand to be so cruel, uncaring or rude.
I refuse to be subdued.
He may not make it out alive
but maybe neither will I.
He shows his true colors and they thrive
as he shows me how to die.
The hand knocked and made it’s mark
but it wasn’t a delusion in my head.
While I’d rather be nothing in the dark
instead of being dead.
Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 1:00 PM UTC
My walls are big n strong
Like that of Babylon
None can do me wrong
As I stay on my toes and strive on
The walls seem seamless
But it's all for a reason
So I'll let you in on a little secret
The pain hid the door
And the gate won't open
Till I'm reassured that I'm not letting in a Trojan horse
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 3:27 PM UTC
I am eighteen years old.
That doesn't seem like a lot,
But to me,
It is everything.
Eighteen years is all I've ever known.
Even if I died tomorrow,
Still eighteen.
While that might not seem like much to you.
You are probably not eighteen.
Despite my age,
I have been through a lot.
Some say more than most,
Even then those who are older.
At eight years old I lost my dad.
At eleven years old I lost my mom.
At eighteen years old,
I've learned to be okay with that.
Between eleven and thirteen I was abused.
I eventually escaped and was safe again.
At eighteen years old I am still in fear of this sometimes,
But I am working on that.
At seventeen years old I applied for college.
I was accepted and excited to go.
At eighteen years old I dropped out.
All of the anxiety and illnesses became too much,
But I am working on that.
For eighteen years I've dealt with mental illness.
Currently being called Bipolar,
Manic and depressive episodes are common,
But I am working on that.
In the past eighteen years,
I've learned new things.
I've learned who to trust,
And who to believe.
However,
I am still working on the difference between them.
In eighteen years I've learned to let go.
Toxic or not.
Family or not.
Just letting grudges be free.
I'm still working on that.
In eighteen years I've learned skills.
With the musicals I've been in.
With my writing continuing.
Even better at communicating now.
But yet I am eighteen.
With time hopefully left,
Leaving room to gain new experiences,
Because eighteen isn't a lot.
But I do thank eighteen.
For all that it has taught me.
From being confident,
To being reassured,
And everything in between.
Because I am almost nineteen.
And nineteen is a lot.
Mar 2, 2020
Mar 2, 2020 at 5:56 PM UTC
You laid me down gently,
Just as gentle as i wanted.
You reassured me of my uncertainty.
You made sure i was okay.
There was that cold tightness in my chest,
That sank right through me until
I could feel it in my spine.
As this feeling has once left me scared and shaken,
I made my decision.
Than you made your first move,
And all the colors i have ever seen lit up my mind.
And a fire lit in my stomach and the flames moved up my spine.
Until you reached my neck and arranged a small kiss.
Your lips extinguished my fire and left my bones bare.
Hold on for dear life,
I felt something adjust inside me.
And that was not as suggestion for the actions at hand.
But something happened in my soul
That left me forever thirsting for your touch.
Not in the desirous way i had before,
But as though the atoms of my heart,
And every particle that made up the pathetically helpless being i call myself,
Needed you.
They would not be the same without you,
i am stuck on you.
Addicted to you.
And every moment without you feels like sudden death,
A draw of my logical mind and these particles of my being.
Its absolutely absurd how reliant i am on you.
Well i have no other way to put it,
But in the least poetic and mysterious way possible,
I guess that's what happens when you take a lonely girl's virginity.
They become addicted.
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 3:35 PM UTC
when i was a little girl -
i believed my daddy was the smartest man in the world.
he knew everything. everything.
if i had a question, daddy had an answer, and a good one.
always.
his degree was in biology,
but he preached from a pulpit every sunday.
his friends, colleagues, congregation, all knew him as Pastor Brett.
to me he was just daddy -
and he was the smartest man in the world.
on days when i couldn't understand my own head,
(which were, and still are, very often)
and got frustrated with myself to the point of tears,
he would kiss my cheeks and promise me i wasn't stupid.
and coming from him, the smartest man i knew, that meant the world.
as years passed and i grew, my naivety remained with me,
and so i thought i was too smart to fall into life's traps.
i fell. i fell fast. i fell hard. i fell often. and i shattered.
each time, the smartest man in the world picked up my pieces
and reassured me i was still welcome in his home.
he never loved me any less, much to my bewilderment.
however, as my faults increased in frequency and severity,
he picked up my pieces now with weathered hands and weary eyes.
his smile was weaker, and a deep pain stirred in the chocolate irises behind his wire-rimmed glasses.
my deception morphed into vines that constricted and twisted and choked out the truth.
he poured out his love onto an underserving me, and said that God would still forgive.
but i, daughter of the smartest man in the world, am a fool.
and by my own two hands, i continued to sink.
he leaves me to pick up my own pieces now, not loving me any less,
but too weak, too exasperated, too heartbroken to do it himself as he always had.
he is done. he loves me and i know it. he shows it. but he is done.
my tears bore him. my half-true stories and pitiful excuses move in one ear and out the other.
he is stone-faced, no longer shocked by my confessions so i leave them unspoken.
his kisses, sear my flesh. his love burns because i know i don't deserve a single shred of it.
i wish he hated me. i wish we could fight. that would make things easier, right?
but he won't. he just won't. he loves me so much and i can't stand it.
but he is done. i broke my father, and his heart, for nothing.
he asked me why i do the things i do,
why i don't just stop it. why i keep on hurting him and my mother.
i didn't have an answer. all i had to offer the smartest man in the world,
was a dry mouth and empty hands.
m.f.
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 12:05 AM UTC
the trouble with poetry
(and this poetry site) is its
facilitation
awoke in a strange bed, my own,
in a different city, with my old eyes
renewed with, by loving amazement
at the beauty of so many souls experimenting
with edged, loving, dangerous compo-notions,
that make me older than King David, who loved the
love of life and this world, for here I am, falling too
for the life & love potions
of words of my fellow humans across
vast oceans
and I stoke their and stroke their
heated words, pretending that
the cool warmth of my tablet
is both their gorgeous skin and
alluring verbal twists that arouse
my innermost, and break my already
broken heart, and heals it at the very
same time...
all too, so easily
this communication is at levels that
descend, transcend,
grips me with passion and consternation
at my own desires, my open body & mind
stirred, chilled, shaken, stirred and soothed
by the busting out contradictions of us, me,
so well hidden, so well revealed in the marvy
ability of so many to share their essences,
their own scents, just by words upon a page,
and here I pause...
to consider the duality of the word
f a c i l e
for poetry shared facilitates this burning,
" " " " " tumult,
and yet comes to me so facile, that I worry,
that the words themselves are facile, cheap
& easy, but then I am reassured by the very
real drops of my body's fluids upon my cheeks,
that confirm, that poetry is too so real, so living,
and I guess you know me by my real name,
my real face, and my realized words here,
and wonder if I need cease to wonder why
wonderful is...
a thing
my poetry is written by silent night, or early morn,
so very differing, and laugh out loud at myself,
for I am a differing man, at differing times,
of a potpourri of contagious contradictory
conceptions, that I traverse so easy, this facility
is my blessing, and poetry my well worn skill
at...facilitating this absurd admixture of
human~you-man~a man~amen.
and here I leave you...
for I have left
the sunroom too...
@
3:26 am
Thu Sep 4
someplace else
Sep 4, 2025
Sep 4, 2025 at 3:35 AM UTC
Here it goes again,
Here it comes again,
The articles about
Psychopaths
And the accusatory tone
Twisting behaviors
Twisting actions
To sound toxic
To sound dangerous
To stamp a big red label on my skin,
Screaming
"AVOID THIS ONE AT ALL COSTS"
While I sit and weep.
But these articles
Blog posts
People fleeing from me
Left and right
Are lies, right?
Tell me, please,
Tell me,
Someone?
My anxiety and need to be reassured
Roots from my PTSD,
And my neediness and wants for attention
Is normal for my upbringing,
Right?
And writing poem after poem
About how much I care for you,
And making playlists
With songs in it
That make me think of you,
Is just a sign that I care,
Right?
I don't want to be
A psychopath.
I don't want to be
A toxic person,
I don't understand
How telling someone you love them,
Is bad?
But these articles say that showering someone
In constant attention and praise
Means you're a psychopath.
And these blog posts
Are telling me that poems and gifts and music,
All means you're selfish and unfeeling.
But I don't want to be,
I care so much, I love you so much.
I'm afraid
Of who I am.
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 8:34 PM UTC
Loving you was meant to be beautiful
Loving you was meant to wrap me in a warmth
That comforted and reassured the
bottomless pit I call me
Loving you meant I had purpose
Loving you created a blanket that hid
All of the pain that comes with
Not loving myself
Loving you felt dead
Loving you would force me to pretend
That this parasite of you
Was good for me
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 10:17 AM UTC
Miracle factory
Fix me till I'm cured
Change my thoughts
Until I'm reassured
Miracle factory
Please do not give in
I'm always staying strong but
My weight is about to win
Miracle factory
Why did you let me go
I'm not repaired, I'm nothing compared
To the emotions that I don't show
Miracle factory
Now that you've shut down
I've search for self esteem but
It's no where to be found
Miracle factory
I'll always say goodbye
Because once your gone, my weight wins
And eventually we'll all die
Miracle factory
Fix me till I'm dead
You haven't changed my thoughts but
You've overlooked them instead
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 7:03 AM UTC
You taught me I wanted to live
when I thought I wanted to die.
In my heart, I always knew,
but you reassured me it's okay to cry.
So that's why even though we live in a world that's drowning in fear,
it's a world I'm proud to live in.
Because you live here too.
Jul 5, 2021
Jul 5, 2021 at 9:32 PM UTC
There is never nothing new
Just rearrange things
I don’t write poems
I just remove the extra words that are in the way
Hold on to the words like whispers and shadows and wings
Recklessly insert adjectives
Tie it all to your delusions of profundity
Dig down deep for pain
no matter how senseless
Pick at your emotional scabs
Bleed
No one likes poetry
Constantly remind people of that
Tell them that you make it sound good to you and **** them
(Even though their ovation means everything)
Slip, dip and weave
With ambiguous wet dreams
Full lips and thick tongue
Mouthing…
Come
to an understanding
***** is much better than clean
Make it filthy
Soil it
Make it nostalgic
People need to be reassured that you were really ******* up as a kid
and that this poetry **** doesn’t just happen to people overnight
Make it esoteric
That way, when no one knows what the hell you are talking about,
you will have a good word to explain why
Say things that are so ill mannered that they are weighty
I will give you an example
“I’m not looking for a girl that is beautiful
I'm looking for one just barely ugly enough to **** me”
Incite large groups of people to *****
Get so personal that it gives people headaches
Expose yourself until everyone is embarrassed for you
Spew it all over the bar
In a drunken stupor
flaunt it lasciviously with your genitals
Pour yourself into reckless collisions
Drink from your soul until it rots your liver
Write until you want to **** yourself
then write about that
Make it as bitter as a Wal-mart associate
Make it so sweet she will swallow it all
before looking up at you with eyes like tiny puddles
To say, “that was beautiful”
(even though it was disgusting)
It should be raw
It should make you itch
It should be like rubbing up against it spreads it
It should be like VD
Make really long
Like it’s your *****
No,
Make it really, really long
Like its my *****
Make it rhyme
I mean don’t
Don’t
Don’t ever write another ******* poem
because I assure you
if I did not write it
than it must ****
and that is how poetry works
Michael L Sutter
Oct 16, 2011
Oct 16, 2011 at 12:31 PM UTC
It is necessary to know how to tame her,
Shy, careful, secret and reserved,
Not very comfortable in a crowd.
She possesses this discreet charm,
You cannot forget as a viral load.
Natural, simple, reliable in her feelings,
She needs proofs to be reassured.
Her attitude is sensible and direct,
An inner life is rich of her life's striking,
Where her intellectual sphere takes it,
By the elegance of her sparkling creativity,
Under the power of her own meditations.
She is so rational, ironic and critical,
By her genuine metaphysical reflections.
She is constantly building on her intuition,
In the area of integrating life's solutions.
She thinks of being late, but just accurate,
Worried in pleasing and in being loved,
But just forgets she is part of human being.
You can trust her blindly,
Because in spite of her side to part,
So different and so warm,
That can perturb you,
And walk away from both of you.
She remains your half for all eternity,
Even if today this Love has dried up,
Keep her sharing gift to love yourself,
To be yourself, and nothing else !
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 7:27 AM UTC
Who is this person that I’m living alongside;
I don’t mean my girl; I mean myself.
Is there an alter with impeccable timing to hide;
a thought I think and feeling I’ve always felt.
She digs her hands into my armored flesh,
the areas I reassured could pass each test.
Instead of titanium she sees it’s made of mesh,
“I’m sorry that I’m not the best of best.”
We watched our house burn down
watched the last ember hit the ground.
I place missing posters of myself around town;
truth is I don’t care if I get found.
“A pox on your house,
you ****** knockout mouse.”
On your clean white blouse;
gasoline has been doused.
I wrongly take the blame,
and they keep saying it’s my name.
Isn’t it a shame how bad blood boils all the same?
Sometimes I feel like I’m presented as an open book,
with torn out pages and a cracked spine.
On full display but no one even stops to take a look,
missing the hidden message in each line.
We shoot the **** so incredibly breezily
but I’m reminded that I bruise very easily,
so I find a way to tap out without anyone noticing.
But it’s done just too feebly.
Burned bridges and scorched earth,
my decision to cover with AstroTurf.
Taking lives instead of giving birth,
and I’ll only strive to make it worse.
“A pox on your house,
you ****** knockout mouse.”
“The screams and the shouts
show us what you’re about.”
The beast I try to tame,
but can hardly even maim.
Isn’t it a shame how bad blood boils all the same?
I have this habit of never learning my lesson
and sometimes almost crashing my car.
It’d be tragic or it could be a hidden blessin’
what’s another addition of a scar?
“A pox on your house,
you ****** knockout mouse”
“We’ll turn you into scouse,
you ****** knockout mouse.”
“A pox on your house,
but not on your spouse.”
At least they aren’t that rouse.
“A pox on your house,
you ****** knockout mouse.”
On your clean white blouse;
gasoline has been doused.
I wrongly take the blame,
and they keep saying it’s my name.
Isn’t it a shame how bad blood boils all the same?
Sep 4, 2025
Sep 4, 2025 at 3:47 PM UTC
his hands are full of stories
he may never get to tell
and wandering the streets today
he must've thought they fell
the memories are staggered
shorter, closer, weaker
s t i l l
together their depiction
was a life he had until
he sat upon the stones
and let the cold into his head
erased the only thoughts
that reassured he wasn't dead
but now the days are passing
with a quickening delay
and everything he hadn't said
is chasing him away
so if you see him running
tell him time is running too
that if he can't outrun it
there is nothing he can do
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 2:20 PM UTC