"rimmed" poems
i hate that i’m lying in bed
with a cup of tea
and can see myself in the future
in our bed
with a cup of tea
and you lying next to me
and i hate that i can see myself turning out the light
and laying my head to rest
on your chest
i hate that i can see us sitting at a little round kitchen table
next to the window
you in your black rimmed glasses
scrolling through your phone
me with my hair tied up and one knee draw up to my chest,
eating a bowl of oatmeal as the sun creeps its way
into the middle of the sky
i hate that i can see us side by side
brushing our teeth in a cramped bathroom
in front of a foggy mirror,
listening to music as we get ready for the day
i hate that i can see us walking out the front door,
i hate that i can see us kissing goodbye
because i’m lying in bed
with a cup of tea
thinking about all of this,
thinking about you
yet i’ve already kissed you
goodbye.
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 12:50 PM UTC
I look in the mirror
And all I see now are
Black holes threatening to
Swallow my red-rimmed eyes.
I never moved with grace
But my body tremors
More than it ever did,
Thinking of unseen fears.
I reach with my fingers
Towards my old reflection
To discover the tips
Are now cracked and bleeding.
Hollow shell, hollow shell.
I am losing myself.
Every step that I take
Destroys my sanity.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 9:46 PM UTC
My wrists and thighs
Tattooed with white stripes
My mind consumed in darkness
My eyes clouded with nothingness..
My wrists and thighs stained red
My mind fading
My eyes rimmed with lack of sleep
Depression.
s.j.d
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 2:04 AM UTC
To give life you must take life,
and as our grief falls flat and hollow
upon the billion-blooded sea
I pass upon serious inward-breaking shoals rimmed
with white-legged, white-bellied rotting creatures
lengthily dead and rioting against surrounding scenes.
Dear child, I only did to you what the sparrow
did to you; I am old when it is fashionable to be
young; I cry when it is fashionable to laugh.
I hated you when it would have taken less courage
to love.
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Snaking down my wrist, beside pulsing, blue-green veins
Were obnoxious scars that left their mark
As if I needed another reminder of how some wounds could never heal.
This wrist of mine weathered more harm
Than a house in the eye of a hurricane
It bore the brunt of raw, undiluted, out of control anger
And frustration that my reflection brings.
As I stare back at the mirror,
I try to decipher the meaning behind beauty
And wonder if I could ever be like her.
But as my reflection cries and I see the swollen, red-rimmed eyes
I know only that I am not attractive
Not enough for you to think of me as worthy.
The angry welts and slashes are not merely scars
But ashes of the remains of my feelings,
the aftermath third degree burns
After you were done with your self-justified critique.
After you took away my light and peace.
That day I did not lost only you
But pieces of me I thought was mine.
You burned everything I thought I knew;
In the flames of doubt and insecurity,
I lost my mind.
I lost my foothold and you let me fall down the darkest abyss
Into my own version of hell
Straight out of my worst nightmare
When I saw a glimmer of light again as a breathing corpse,
No more than a frankenstein fixed together with thread
I saw the masterpiece of red on my wrists
And I saw that I was no longer whole.
All I know now is that I am afraid
Of being left behind by my own shadow
In this darkness I know now.
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 11:00 AM UTC
_"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you."_
-Maya Angelou
My soul is a sweetie:
She’s a cute but ****
with an infectious smile,
an enchanting personality.
She wears dark colors,
slightly goth makeup,
and thick-rimmed glasses.
She likes candles, tea,
sweaters, and cannabis,
and goes on long walks
in the woods by starlight.
She’s cool and confident,
outgoing and fun,
and as beautiful as
a moonrise reflected
off of a frozen lake.
She’s me.
But I am not her.
She’s the me inside
of the me inside of me.
She cries when my mind
grapples with the bounds
of the mental illness
that gives her life.
She screams in pain
when my mind tries
to rationalize her
and explain her away.
And she glows with joy
whenever I try
to grow closer to her.
She’s the part of me
I never asked for,
whose existence hurts
like a deep burn,
but nonetheless makes
me truly be myself.
Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 11:57 AM UTC
His eyes were an abyss
That I couldn't help
But fall into them
The soft charcoal black
Rimmed by even darker lashes
A flirty smirk
A careful poke on the nose
Each smile from him
Pulling me in
Further
o.g.
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 9:16 PM UTC
She's got red hearts everywhere
A blush here or there,
Never a hair out of place
She's a girl filled with grace
God given love
From somewhere up above
And I know
I could never compare
To her perfect skin
Scarless but plain
Somehow she remains sane
And I'm lost in my thoughts
With hands bruised and bound
Down to my sides
Bleeding from base to tip
My wrist falls limp
Against his grip
And maybe it's meant to be this way
And maybe I'm supposed to go today
And maybe
I don't want this anymore
Because the memories won't fade
From stained cheek with blood rimmed eyes
And maybe I don't want to look in the mirror ever again and see a dead stare
Looking back at me
Because maybe
I don't want to see ever again
I don't want to feel this pain
I don't want to let this heart beat another day
When all I know is
I could never compare to the girl
Who throws her heart everywhere
But still I wish
I could be something worth jealousy
I know I'm worth a grave
Six feet under ground
Where I will never have
To see a dead gaze looking
Back at me..
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 1:32 AM UTC
'Neath canopy of paradise
Super troupers' shafts of light
Illuminate his terpsichore;
***** he struts, the impresario
Gyrating on spindle shanks;
Needle thin and knock-kneed
He dances a samba
On stage of verdure;
Midst Elvis blue-black thrusts,
Steel rimmed amber orbs
Seek admiring and desirous glances
From the dour drab hen,
Mousy in her beige twin set
And mottled tweed skirt;
With nonchalant disinterest she exits
The arena; audition over.
Jun 24, 2010
Jun 24, 2010 at 11:40 AM UTC
Do you miss me?
An absent voice, a faded smile,
two red-rimmed eyes
that avoid your own;
A heart that once opened,
a beautiful, elegant vulnerability,
now solidified into stone.
Or maybe
you haven't noticed
anything wrong.
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 6:31 AM UTC
Here I sit
Between two choices
Between two people
Between two indentities
Looking for a happy ending
In a world divided
As sharp as black and white
To my left
Is what society wants me to be
Smart and respectful
Following the rules
Dressing to impress
safe, but
To my right
Is what I want to be
Dark and edgy
Rebelling
CLoaked in black head to toe
Black rimmed eyes
Loud music blaring
But the thing with black and white
Is that there is a gray area between
With infinite shades
Some wear it on their face
For everyone to see
While they group together
I'm left in wonder
For when I look in the mirror
I am suddenly colorblind
Blinking back at myself
for hours on end
Trying to figure out who I am
Am I more of what I'm trying to be
Or what I should want to be
Maybe I'm a perfect 50/50 mix
That isn't so perfect after all
It's plain and boring
perfectly ordinary
On the left
I would be a fake, and
On the right
I would be a fake
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 11:40 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
I was having a nice Dream
when you shook me Awake.
The sky was bruised with no hint of Light.
You held one thin finger to your smiling lips-
Vacation was the only word whispered.
A day full of flying & driving we finally arrived
Grandma's and Grandpa's; Everyone was outside.
Met with pity-filled smiles
and red-rimmed eyes
steel-gripped hugs about crushed my spine.
Aunties, Uncles & Strangers were there.
You told me to go unpack my things.
*Mom, why did you pack me so many socks?
Vacation only lasts a handful of days.*
Realizations pulsed inside like a serpent had punctured my skin
Then filled me with disgusting truth.
Within a few moments
I'd been stripped & thrown
into a hole full of my most secret fears.
My hideous screams still ring in my ears.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 10:42 PM UTC
The fruit rolled by all day.
They prayed the cogs would creep;
They thought about Saturday pay,
And Sunday sleep.
Whatever he smelled was good:
The fruit and flesh smells mixed.
There beside him she stood,--
And he, perplexed;
He, in his shrunken britches,
Eyes rimmed with pickle dust,
Prickling with all the itches
Of sixteen-year-old lust.
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Usher in
a long taffeta skirt,
pearl earrings and delicate hands.
Horn-rimmed glasses
on the man you saw at the grocery store.
Children still in their winter boots,
a frozen sunset glowing on round cheeks.
Smile at them,
agree with them.
Yes it's a cold one out there.
The fire laughs behind you.
Tea and memories of home
warm your throat.
Is this where you thought you'd be?
Ask yourself.
Write the answer on a piece of paper,
crumple it in your fist
and throw it in the flames.
Fuel.
Thank everyone for coming.
Dec 16, 2017
Dec 16, 2017 at 1:24 AM UTC
So
from your hand,
I learned to drink the light...
A residue of dahlias
in their late summer blood,
rimmed white with the fluid evening,
the soul, some wild falcon
folded in golden lullabies
of nightingale acoustics...
Eclipsed by the gentle pathos
of the body, shining
as I leave it behind,
crying in its dark thorns,
some forlorn fragment shudders
in the silver embrace you lace with calm...
As it laps
into that crumpled karma
and dreams it was once
a jaguar of dark passages,
held in the long hands of sorrow,
see, these clavicles emerge through orchids...
And a liquid resurrection
envelope the earth you bathe
from the fugitive gesture of wings,
so, it was in these black,
grim prairies of the soul...
Where I
at last learned
to drink the light from your hand....
Sep 5, 2012
Sep 5, 2012 at 1:32 PM UTC
I am a dramatized china doll,
but I never rouge my knees.
The MC introduces me as Scarlett.
Lulu embraces me as we saunter
off the platform. Whistles follow my footsteps
digging into my brain, fermenting,
to strong wine.
Gentlemen enter the club to leer
at cabaret girls dancing in lace.
Some are drawn to the boys of the club,
the ones in the dark corners with kohl-rimmed
eyes and eager kisses.
From their seats in the dimness, the audience
fails to notice rips in my blouse, cigarette
butts smudged out in the wings. No one
sees the ***** face powder spread out
among the lighted mirrors, overused,
my own makeup dried out.
Their giggles and applause keep
the club alive, filled with dead
grins from dinner to dawn.
Drum roll—my turn.
We rid them of their troubles.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 9:40 PM UTC
Melancholy tea;
Steaming so delicately
Filling with transparency
Light fragrance and an indirect
Flavor of neglect in
A rimmed broken teacup.
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 7:47 PM UTC
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Though glass, it is rimmed with gold
around the cup, handle and even the
saucer. Skilfully painted chrysanthemums
of various shades; the vermilion horizon,
Spring's honey, songbird's magenta,
sangria's fine wine, a parakeet's breast
and the Aegean sea.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
And then, there are three sightly tea
caddies with lacquered wooden bodies;
one rosewood with red dancing fans,
one burr-oak with golden mountainous
landscape and one maple wood with
green bamboo. Ainhana gently removes
each of their lids by using the cloth, and
presents the pearls that were wrapped
in sun-kissed foil.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
She first lifts the rosewood caddy towards
me. I close my eyes and focus on the scent.
Without peeling back the foil, I know. It takes
me to the far distant Province of Yunnan,
past the snow-kissed mountains and rice
terraces to a very still lake. I noticed that
it began to bubble before a large splash
rose.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
At that moment, I meet the lake's Guardian,
the Imperial Wingless Dragon of legend.
With its wet emerald-kissed scales drinking
the sunlight. It's great body now entwined
in a wispy clouds as it stares at me with
eyes of liquid moons. Its tail crowned
with a peacock feathered eye-spot whips
around in the air, leaving an iridescent
trail of colours.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
With a great leap, he soars through
the air, trumpeting his great roar
that rattles the skies. Just as quickly
as he rose, he descends down with
a Pearl Moon in his brown claw. By
the stroke of its sienna-brown whisker,
the small Moon cracks, presenting me
it's contents, a long kept secret.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
The pearls are the colour of seaweed
with streaks of yellow and burnt umber.
With earthy notes whirls around my
nose, along with some floral sweetness,
burnt caramel licks, dragon spice and
a wisp of apricot. Ah, so I see! One great
guarded secret that he reveals to me!
His best pearls ferment in the womb
of the Moons! Purified by the Star
Virtues of Elysia's Harmony!
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
'Wonderfully rich Pu-erh Pearls,'
I say, my eyes now open.
'My Lady's nose is as sharp as ever!'
'I just know my tea,' I chuckle, 'it's
very unique in smell and taste. I will
save such fine broth for another day.'
Ainhana nods, places on the tray and
lift the burr-oak caddy. I close my
eyes once again and my mind
wanders yet again.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 4:20 AM UTC
Namaste
The divine in me
recognizes the
divine
in you
the part of me
that ashes her
handrolled cigarette
all down her top
on accident
who wears someone
else's black rimmed
plastic glasses
they're the wrong perscription
but there's no reason
the world shoudn't
appear a little blurry
hearts are farther away
than they may seem
behind the thin
layer of skin
and tissue
the fragile
birdcage frames
that protect them
If I were a zombie
I'd eat hearts instead
of brains
that way I'd know
what it was to taste love
I've had enough of people's
thoughts and opinions
I wanna taste the ache
for a change
and ingest the chambers
that held all your exs
and family
your friends
the divine in me
eats the divine in you
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 4:12 PM UTC
I whispered your name into the inner
twisting curl of a conch shell, hoping
an echo from saltier waves would carry
it through shadow-rimmed currents until it
flowed softly along the shore, like my breath
settling across your neck
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 10:46 AM UTC
*There are poetic whispers
in your kohl rimmed eyes.
I"m always washed away on their shores*
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 5:12 AM UTC
I dressed my core in flannel garb
Even though its 90 out
Shaded my eyes with thick rimmed, large framed Ray Bans
Because I can
I’m wearing skinny jeans
But I bought them before they were cool
There’s a hole in the knee where I was burned with a parliament at a poetry club
It didn’t hurt
I spell Vintage U-R-B-A-N
My shoes look like I pulled them out of Fred Astair’s closet
Because I did
I am too cool to care.
But do not call me a hipster.
It’s too mainstream.
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 7:38 PM UTC