"recitals" poems
Some People Are ... EVIL ... !!!
Some People Are ... Nice ...
Some People Believe ...
In The Lies They Contrive ...
Black People ... White People ...
Yes ALL TYPES of People ... !!!
Don't Think You're EXEMPT Most People Tell Lies ... !!!
Some People Want TRUTH These People Are Wise ...
These Are The People Who Use Their ... 3rd Eye ...
I'm Sick of These People Whose Lives Are Contrived ...
Like Poets Who Act Like Their Words Breed Insight ...
MAN These Are The People Who Lead A ... FAKE Life ... !!!
Because They Can't Deal With ... What's REALLY INSIDE ...
INSIDE of Their Minds ... INSIDE of Their Hearts ...
See These Are The People Who Fall At The Start ... !!!!!!!!
They STAND By Their PRIDE ...
But Pride We All Know Comes Before A FALL ... !!!
How Many of You Folks Are Playing That Role ... !???!
Let's Go Toe To Toe And See What You Know ...
Because I GUARANTEE ... You'll Be A NO SHOW ... !!!
See They ... Like To Deride ...
Their Comments Are Snide ... !!!
MAN These Are The People I CANNOT ABIDE ... !!!!!!!!
They TALK A Good Game But Have NO **** SHAME ... !!!!!
Because These Are The People Who DON'T Deal With Pain ...
They Pass YOU The Rope ...
And Then Say ... " TAKE THE STRAIN " ... !!!
See These Are The People Who Need Their Blood DRAINED ... !!!
They ARE The Bloodsuckers Who STEAL From The Sane ... !!!
They TALK About TRUTH But Soon HIT The Roof ... !!!
When Truth Is Thrown At Them They're QUICK To ABUSE ... !!!
"I'll issue court action, I want a Retraction !" ...
Well Here Is My View ...
These People Are FOOLS ....
Who've Got Some Screws LOOSE !!!!!
Deal With YOUR ISSUES I've Been In Courtrooms ...
Don't EVER ASSUME I'm An IGNORANT **** ... !!!!!!
This ISN'T ... Pulp Fiction ... !!!
Don't Think I'm ... The Shepherd ...
I'm NOT Samuel Jackson I'm Ready For Action ... !!!
You Will Be Collapsing When I Start Reacting ... !!!
Don't EVER Presume I'm Into ... Play Acting ... !!!
I'll Leave That To You And Your Idiot Crew ... !!!
Cos' These Are The People Who Don't Give You Clues ...
Cos These Are The People Who Simply Aren't TRUE ... !!!
They Like Their Doors OPEN ...
So They Can Walk Through ...
MAN These Are The People ...
Who Walk In ... DEAD SHOES ... !!!
Now I'm NOT Making Threats ... !!!
But On THIS ... You Can Bet ... !!!
Messing With Me ...
Means You're Messing With DEATH ... !!!
Cos' I'm Ready And Willing To Take Your LAST Breath ...
Cos' People Like You Are ... Humanity's DREGS ... !!!!!
But Enough About THEM ... Society's Phlegm ... !!!!!!!!!!!!
Some People ARE NICE These People I Like ... !!!
Cos' Some of These People Do Use The Mic RIGHT ... !!!!!
They Talk About Things That Affect Peoples' Lives ...
Without EVER Thinking Their Wordplay ... DELIGHTS ...
These People Are Humble And SHUN Foolish Pride ... !!!
Cos' These Are The People ... Who Look DEEP INSIDE ...
INSIDE of THEMSELVES And Find Love of The SELF ...
Cos' Love of The Self Can Preserve Mental Health ...
And Help You To Deal With ... DUD Cards You Get Dealt ... !!!!!
These Words Are ........ HEARTFELT ........ !!!
Good People DO HELP ...
WITHOUT EVER Thinking of Helping THEMSELVES ... !!!
Good People Are VITAL For Human Survival ... !!!!
This Is Now The Reason I Do These Recitals ...
I'm Trying To Put .....
Something GOOD In The CYCLE ... !!!
The ... Cycle of Life .....
That Has MANY Good People ... !!!
But TOO MANY People Are Now Doing EVIL ... !!!!!!
Which Is Why I'm Relating My Views About ...........
......... " People " .........
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 4:31 PM UTC
if you're my friend
then why do you never listen?
if you're my friend,
then shouldn't you care that i'm hurting?
i thought we were friends
because i have always been there for you.
i thought we were friends
because i stood up for you.
if you're my friend
then why do you always talk over me then laugh when somebody else says the same thing
if you're my friend
then shouldn't you at least pretend to care that this is the way i am?
i thought we were friends
because we did almost everything together.
i thought we were friends
because i showed up to your dance recitals.
this is not a real friendship!
this is only one-sided.
can a friendship even be one-sided?
can i ever just walk away?
the day that you realize
how much of my hurting comes from you
is the day
that it will be much too late.
friendship is both people caring
both people listening.
friendship is both people being there
both people taking away the pain, not causing it.
what we are
is not friends.
it's time to say good-bye
so good-bye, it was nice to know you
Jan 17, 2012
Jan 17, 2012 at 9:56 AM UTC
My mother used to hate me. Shortly after she found out she was pregnant with me she started to hate me. She tried to get an abortion, but I wouldn't die. She tried to vacuum me out but I just wouldn't let go... She was late 5 days on her due day , 'cause i just wouldn't leave. She hated me all the way out of her ****** through the ****** and finally out. She hated breastfeeding me, she hated putting me to sleep and changing my diapers. She hated the day i said my first word, "mama", she cursed the day i started to walk. She hated going to my kindergarten recitals, she hated all the contests I won in grade school. As I finished the 8th grade, I left and I moved to a big city with my sister, for grater education and a better life. She didn't say a word before I left, nor the following weeks. Papa was crushed, she lived happily... Until one day, three months later. I was on my way to school, when, in front of the building I saw papa and her. She looked awful. As she saw me she started crying and ran to me. She hugged me and kissed me for minutes, as she kept saying "I love you so much...I'm so sorry...I missed you so much...". Papa said she didn't eat, she couldn't sleep for weeks and she was devastated. I went upstairs with them, I laid her on my bed and she fell asleep in my arms, shivering and whispering, with big tears running down her pale chin...She never woke up... I love you, mama...
DCimpean
2014
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 4:39 AM UTC
4
10:30
"Knock knock"
Still in my pyjamas.
We drank coffee and smoked cigarettes.
He went to a rap gig the night before.
Fifteen dollars wasted.
3
13:00
An old school friend.
More coffee.
We spoke of art, travel and vegetable gardens.
In Japan they don't eat or show affection in public she told me.
Aokigahara finally makes sense.
2
22:00
Lucky Coq.
Girls would ****** for his hair.
He told me of his grandfathers poetry recitals every Christmas.
Idiosyncrasies are the ventriloquists of my heart.
1
23:00
We smoked under vine-entwined lanterns.
He fell in love with a French girl once and lived with her in Versailles.
He was young and went back home.
Regret at the fork in the road.
0
23:30
Left to find a 24/7 bottle shop and go home.
Crossed paths with old friends.
"Come have a drink with us"
-1
-2
-3
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 11:04 PM UTC
Yesterday I was thinking about you
& it terrified me that I could no longer
Remember what you looked like,
Or who you even were
Before cancer started to erode
All of your loveliness
I knew you didn’t want me to
Remember how you looked without hair
Or how your body became so weak
So I searched the depths of my mind
To find old memories of you
I can remember you coming to
My birthday parties and music recitals
But honestly I couldn’t remember
What you looked like then
And as my heart was breaking
That I had lost all of you
A flicker of a moment flashed in my mind
There you were sitting
At your dining room table
With your auburn curls and
Right before you took a sip
Of your diet Pepsi
You smiled
Then, along with the fleeting moment
You were gone
I wanted to cry
I had remembered you,
The real you
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 6:03 AM UTC
(9-24-11 instrumental)
it takes 2 years to forget 6 years,
it takes 12 beers to forget your tears,
and it's those tears that flow so near,
this backyard that you hold so dear,
i held you here in better years,
i'd cheer you up, when i'd hear your fears,
the taste of beer and sky so clear
steer away now, it's in the rear,
view and that feels so cold,
i only see you through untagged photos,
youtubing high school talent shows,
or recitals, it's vital, that no one
actually knows, that i'm caught up
bought to get lost up,
another drink, another think,
i'm just a flawed ****
but i play it cool and act strong,
those other fools won't last long.
another sad song, i make it better,
got a new chick that's wetter cause
she aint afraid of that weather,
umbrellas discarded, in the bleachers,
teachers, gawking from the sidelines,
it's all fine, it's our time,
no need to dodge landmines...
call me minesweeper,
call me mindreader,
call me timekeeper,
call me justin bieber,
call me baby, baby baby,
call me jay-z, call me kanye,
call me all day, call me homewrecker,
call me and say i can do better,
call me about your sweater,
that's still at my place,
call me ghostface, call me action bronson,
call me hot one, call me ******* loser,
call me a waste of your time,
call me and say that this rhyme's, too simple,
call me jimmy kimmel, sarah silver-man.
i'm a better man, i'm business-man, i'm a gentle-man
i'm stan, writing this down in a crazy letter
no ink, self-mutilation and a feather,
better yet, i'm saying this outloud in the booth,
kick this rap game in the tooth with these red wing boots.
Apr 23, 2012
Apr 23, 2012 at 1:55 AM UTC
Sometimes you think one thing
But it's really another
All your dreams come true
It seems ambition is consequences' mother
They changed my life
But actually they didn’t
Now I know what money is for
And for what it isn’t
There are things
That money cannot buy
It’s not just love
It’s also how to answer the question why
Now the blame is mine
Even for silent things in the night
Everything I had hoped for
Have now vanished along with the light
Ambition once served me well
As I became more powerful than my dreams
Now I feel so very small
As its rewards shrink in the face of extremes
With the seriousness of life upon me
Staring down what once made me smile
It is the reality of what is expected
Which can no longer be hidden in a denial
A life changing moment
Does not recognize time or titles
Now is the moment when I have to answer my own question
And pray that God will believe me in his witness of my recitals
Feb 25, 2012
Feb 25, 2012 at 8:39 PM UTC
The sloppy rain slips and slides down the fogged-up windows,
and this lets me know that I am not as small as I think I am.
In a city of three million plus, I feel like the soul of a nation,
even though I'm just a twenty-one year-old piece of plastic, drinking a hipster beer.
The waitress has frizzy hair and oily skin.
She's holding in late-night infomercials and missed ballet recitals, behind her words.
She looks at my luggage and asks where I came from or where I'm going,
and I tell her that the fun thing is that I have no idea where I'm going --
and that I still haven't decided where I've came from.
This city allows new-found anonymity, and I want that to be my cause.
With each passing glance, I know they don't see me, and, to me, that's the slumber-kissed throat-slit I've always dreamt of...
...the streets play music that I only hear -- and I know that's not fair, but I don't care.
And the homeless represent the bowels of the city.
And the businessmen are the ghost-filled engine.
And the middle class is the defense-mechanism I always wanted for Christmas.
And I am the empty delusion, desperately seeking a new pollution.
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 10:41 AM UTC
Mother.
When I look at you, I see
the woman I want to be
in twenty years.
You worry
about the wrinkles
that form constellations
across the freckles on your skin.
A natural reaction
to what society brands
as aging.
Mother.
When I look at you,
I see that those lines tell stories.
They speak to all the times
you laughed so hard
you cried.
Times you smiled so big,
so bright,
so proud,
your cheeks began to throb
to the beat
of my graduation march.
Mother,
when I look at you,
I see no age.
I see a superhero
flying her faithful SUV
from one side of town
to the next.
Whisking kids from practice,
and concerts,
and recitals.
All paid for with the money
from the job
that gets you up before the sun.
Money that means nothing to you
compared to the happiness
of your children.
Mother.
When I look at you,
I see honey golden eyes
just like mine.
Eyes I remembered
tired
and weary
after a long day
of making ends meet -
being a mother
and a father.
A woman too selfless to rest
until dinner was on the table.
Mother.
When I look at you
I see an airy frame,
but you’re strong --
so strong.
The greatest life lessons
I’ve learned from you
came in your darkest times
when you refused
to let the world break you down.
Life gave you lemons
and you’d be ******
if you were going to leave
the dinner table
before you finished drinking
all that lemonade.
Mother.
When I look at you,
I feel so much pride.
You’ve accomplished so much.
You’re Wonder Woman.
I feel the comfort,
like your soft embrace,
in knowing
where I come from…
and where I’m going.
Mother.
When I look at you,
I pray
someday I can be half
the mother you are
so my children can be
as lucky as me.
Mother.
When I look at you,
I see your mother too.
The generations of mothers
before you
whose love
and strength
and wisdom
were weaved together
to form
the beautiful woman you are today.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 12:28 AM UTC
Dear dad,
I'm 18 years old,
and you've been out of my life for 17 years and 42 weeks of it.
You missed out on your little girl learning, and growing, and turning into a woman.
Someone else taught me how to ride a bike,
but I don't think that you mind missing something so important.
I don't think you mind missing recitals, and concerts and shows.
I don't think you'd even recognize me if you saw me on the street.
You don't deserve the title dad,
so for as long as I can remember, I've called you ***** donor.
Because that's all you ever given me (except for daddy issues and hereditary mental illness).
You don't deserve the title dad because you never taught me how I was supposed to be treated;
so I settled for too little, and longed to be loved.
But now, I don't even call you ***** donor,
I neglect to recognize your existance in my life,
because let's face it, you were never even a possibility.
I feel bad after all these years,
because you missed out on the joy of having a daughter,
and being a father.
Dec 9, 2017
Dec 9, 2017 at 3:20 AM UTC
A sadness overcome by
A simple thought of a bright light.
The slight imagination of an illuminated orb
How much i’ve missed a smile.
A remembrance of what used to be clenches my muscles
until my heart commands my body to stop what I’m doing and breathe.
Sometimes, too much of a good thing can be dangerous.
Being alone with my thoughts on a good day can sometimes be worse than my thoughts when I’m sad.
Tears of joy turn to glass bullets as both are a beautiful thing but still painful,
the glass bullets shatter into my brain and cause my to spiral downwards,
into a locked vault of memories of gut laughter and family game night.
the light to the game closet has long since burnt out,
hasn’t been touched in years.
I remember a time when family game night was a chore for us,
now I would do anything to have that again.
the four of us laughing our ***** off until bedtime,
mom saying “Jon, let them stay up a little longer.”
It kills me now that we don’t have that.
I miss the times where we would pile in the car and go to my sister’s piano recitals.
I hated them when I was younger, I thought they were boring.
listening to a few kids pluck away on a grand piano for hours on end just wasn’t exciting.
But if you listen carefully,
you hear that now,
I am plucking away at a piano. Motivation from something that I dreaded.
I loved listening to her play,
my sister.
Absolutely brilliant.
Brilliant and bring like the light in the game closet but like I said all lights burn out and stop working but all you do is wish that you can flip the switch and the room illuminates with the sound of a perfectly performed tune.
After every time she finished a piece, I swear my dad would say,
“you know, you can tune a piano, but you can’t tuna fish.”
After a while, it got old. But ever since I haven’t heard it.
His mouth stay closed like the game closet door and his tongue stay dormant like the burnt out light in the closet
Is it true that the mercury in the light bulbs can burn skin?
Burnt out and never to work again but mercury can still burn through your palm and seep into your veins and make your blood cells dormant and burnt out.
Or possibly just your mind.
Pianos to burnt out light bulbs and tears to glass bullets,
an alliance is formed.
A piano extinguishes tears, but glass bullets shatter the bulb.
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 10:20 PM UTC
first words
she heard me
first steps
she was right beside me
first day of school
she was in the class next door
we’re two halves in a whole
we’re twins
sharing practically everything
from clothes to crooked smiles
big feet to best friends
some might say we’re the same
and they couldn’t be further from the truth
our shared genes
could never cross the gap
between friends and strangers
stuck in the middle
speaking to her in the morning
is like walking through a minefield
dangerous and unpredictable
never knowing if she’s in a bad mood
or worse
usually moody
rarely happy
always dramatic
at least
she is around me
i wake her up
she takes a shower
straightens her hair
puts on liquid black eyeliner
to show off green eyes
the same color as mine
she stands tall
always over
me
suffocating
casting a shadow
with broad shoulders
she can’t find the energy
to give me a compliment
ever
however she
continues to
point out my flaws
at six in the morning
i’m tired
i can count on one hand
the number of times she really hugged me
the number of times she really felt my pain
when Ton died
when Grandpa passed
when Dad screamed i was a failure
that’s it
i wish you would try to understand
through the
hair disasters
bike rides
movie nights
recitals
adventures
walks
runs
deaths
crashes
tears
laughs
screams
you were there
yet when i feel alone
when i need you
you’re gone
talking to some guy on the phone
you ignore me
you don’t know
you don’t understand
and i have to rely on someone
who doesn’t know me like you do
because
******
my sister isn’t here
May 15, 2012
May 15, 2012 at 5:40 PM UTC
So many words between us—
The caustic breech of abatement, ruin
Runs atonal, in recitals of indifference,
How even the ****** birds now sound
Discordant and rain crushes as it falls,
Ballistic.
The pinprick stars are merely eyes
Undraped to the worn soul's veil
And gorgon time roils setting our feet
In the crust of wishes and delusions
Kept.
The bullet riddled skies in absence
Of colour are but particulates of lime
To the moonless night. Words have no
Eyes, they can only finger.
O the sorrows of the untouched—
The cruelty of the sightless and bent blind,
Drab vermillion stars felled like forced tears.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 10:57 AM UTC
Somethings last longer when kept in cool dry places
and I for one have found the perfect resting place,
surrounded by plenty of taken up shelf space
where I can store up my strength, and sit contented
in this inspired, quiet space, amongst the bookcases
where we are encouraged to slow our pace
in the long-lasting embrace of Carnegie’s generous bequest.
Yes, we’re blessed with quiet, at least for the most part,
apart from the softly voiced query and help at the desk,
apart from the dad reading aloud and reading time’s louder address
to cross legged, momentarily suppressed younger guests.
It’s quiet apart from the regular swish of the obliging doorway
swinging wide its welcome followed by
the vital wipe of wet feet on the new red mat,
punctuated by the unsnapping of buggy straps
and empathetic mum to mum picked-up-from-last-time chats.
It’s quiet apart from the regular slap of scrabble tiles,
clicking knitting needles
and the long considered placing of a jigsaw piece
accompanied by a contented creak
of a chair as someone adjusts a numbing *** cheek.
It’s quiet apart from the buzz of book clubs and poetry recitals
exchanging much treasured lines and long loved titles.
It’s quiet apart from the beep of books returned or issued out
under the arms of rested readers, no doubt
heading home to their own cool dry places,
reading lamps and carefully positioned comfy chairs.
It’s quiet apart from the spoken thankfulness of readers young and old,
each enjoying spending time within the fold
of this, our beloved Hanwell Community Library.
Apr 1, 2023
Apr 1, 2023 at 2:32 AM UTC
We won a chance at life, and to forevermore be losing --
Losing life, and losing love
As we struggle to keep moving.
We grow older, and bolder
As the weight grows heavy that we shoulder;
If when we were born it was warm, then it's surely growing colder.
From gas into liquid, and liquid into solid
Our freedom is deleted as we fight to re-install it.
To fight the pains of growing up, our souls are made numb --
We keep crawling toward the light, but to the darkness we succumb.
Then we heal, so we can feel anything at all
And we climb and climb so high -- just to feel the fall.
You ran this boat aground, and your luck was running thin.
So, as if to test the bounds of fate,
You pushed your boat back in.
And continued on your journey,
You feel the fire inside burning --
You've grown so strong since you were gone,
The devil himself fears your returning.
Once you've lost so much already, there's not much more to lose --
You might bleed and you might bruise,
But your resolve won't be removed.
For now you're stronger than ever,
Free from those ties that you severed --
Your world fell apart, but you forced it back together.
Now make survival your bible,
And write the story of your revival;
For your heartbeat sounds a symphony --
And your movements dance recitals.
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 6:30 AM UTC
Life and it's vicious cycle
hopeless desires, endless recitals
we laugh and cry, we learn and try
The colours of life speak when our hues are imprinted within our soul,
The challenges of life are what makes our mind a powerful tool
Loving thee is the key to brighten up our horizons and find our crystal diamonds
Weaknesses are a part of our past, thirsty for approval, keen for removal
We fall and we jump higher
We fight and try harder
Life is unfair only when we think we are unworthy...only when everything is blurry
Accept our fears and follow our dreams
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 6:35 PM UTC
I never wanted to fix anything
Observing your essence flow endlessly
Fixated at the ways your hair will fling
Transformation has occurred mindlessly
A fierce devotion which remains unseen
Visibility not being the goal
Any motives inside my mind are clean
Emotional releases I control
Purity does not equal completion
When I witness short beautiful cycles
I feel nothing stronger than devotion
And I abandon any recitals
Experiencing wonderful magic
Unrequited love is not so tragic
© Christopher Chronister 2016
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 8:21 PM UTC
.
So many words between us—
The caustic breech of abatement, ruin
Runs atonal, in recitals of indifference,
How even the ****** birds now sound
Discordant and rain crushes as it falls,
Ballistic.
The pinprick stars are merely eyes
Undraped to the worn soul's veil
And gorgon time roils setting our feet
In the crust of wishes and delusions
Kept.
The bullet riddled skies in absence
Of colour are but particulates of lime
To the moonless night. Words have no
Eyes, they can only finger.
O the sorrows of the untouched—
The cruelty of the sightless and bent blind,
Drab vermillion stars felled like forced tears.
.
Jan 10, 2022
Jan 10, 2022 at 5:07 PM UTC
a quiet story
before the locked doors or
three way mirrors
a spider whispers
a lesson from a devil on hot
pale scales pipe high virginal
ballads in black smoke broken
by smiling Poussin
bells plunge down towers
sweetening prisons with
spiders clenched recitals
and 24 carat bourbon
Mar 22, 2012
Mar 22, 2012 at 12:49 AM UTC
.
*Here on the night before yesterday’s dream
Twilight composers retreat
Laughing at whispers a’ flow on the stream
Happily taking a seat
Practicing meadowlark lyrics to sing
Strumming a toadstool in tune
Awaiting the light that the fireflies bring
Blinking a wink at the moon
Tulips with tambourines gather around
Spider web chandeliers glow
Shade tree sonatas, a wonderful sound
Echoing up from below
Pine cone recitals and blueberry sighs
Star dust ovations in rhyme
Choruses sung beneath velveteen skies
Harmonic three quarter time
Orchestral canopies glisten above
Melodic rainbows the view
Performing songs written solely of love
Played on this evening for you*
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 6:54 PM UTC
So many words between us—
The caustic breech of abatement, ruin
Runs atonal, in recitals of indifference,
How even the ****** birds now sound
Discordant and rain crushes as it falls,
Ballistic.
The pinprick stars are merely eyes
Undraped to the worn soul's veil
And gorgon time roils setting our feet
In the crust of wishes and delusions
Kept.
The bullet riddled skies in absence
Of colour are but particulates of lime
To the moonless night. Words have no
Eyes, they can only finger.
O the sorrows of the untouched—
The cruelty of the sightless and bent blind,
Drab vermillion stars felled like forced tears.
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 8:35 PM UTC
You’re way too
Beautiful Girl
That’s why it’ll never
Work
You’ll have me suicidal
Recitals
Singing Kingston
Love lasts
Until the last
I Love You
When it comes
I swear
I’ll run
To the cliff
And Jump
Because you told me
To
I love you
Hard
Harder
Than diamonds
You’re a rock
And our end
Is a hard place
I’m stuck in between
A 'tween like obsession
I confess
I never learn
Love lessons
I’m forever failing
Falling hardest
For those
That are lawless
The rules of attraction
You don’t abide by
Biding my time
Biting my nails
Hoping for your
Answer
Waiting
In anticipation
Longer
Than the Detox
It’ll never come
You’re on a vacation
From me
MyRehabilitation
Is like
An alcoholic
Overcoming his disease
In a bar
How many shots will it take before I’m claimed clinically insane
I’ve made the same
Mistake a million times
But
You’re one in a million
And I’m searching
For the feelings
You aren’t willing to give
Hopefully I’ll be picked
Playing love’s lottery
With one ticket
There’s still a chance
The odds
Are against me
Oddly, I believe
I’m odd enough
To beat them
Oct 30, 2010
Oct 30, 2010 at 4:22 PM UTC
I've only talked to you once.
We were in the school library.
I was cutting out on Biology and you were working hard on finishing a Chemistry lab write up.
I noticed how beautiful you looked as you walked up to the Librarian's desk and asked for a tissue to blow your nose.
Your dark hair was pulled back and your tights wrapped perfectly around your legs and you lipstick was the perfect shade of red and your boots came a quarter of the way up your shin and I never felt so emotionally detached from the world around me as I did in that moment, watching you blow your nose.
As you walked passed I said in a hush only you could hear "Love is more thicker than forget; more thinner than recall; more seldom than a wave is wet; more frequent than to fail."
And you stopped there, in that moment. You did not turn around but simply said "It is most mad and moonly, and less it shall unbe; than all the sea; which only is deeper than the sea."
And in that moment I never felt so found. I never felt so infinite.
We were connected by the meaning of our recitals
as well as by the soles of our shoes.
And when something is so truly beautiful it is lost.
And it must never be found.
And so we have not spoken again.
Yet we know so much about the other.
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 11:37 PM UTC