"sear" poems
In the Midnight heaven's burning
Through the ethereal deeps afar
Once I watch'd with restless yearning
An alluring aureate star;
Ev'ry eve aloft returning
Gleaming nigh the Arctic Car.
Mystic waves of beauty blended
With the gorgeous golden rays
Phantasies of bliss descended
In a myrrh'd Elysian haze.
In the lyre-born chords extended
Harmonies of Lydian lays.
And (thought I) lies scenes of pleasure,
Where the free and blessed dwell,
And each moment bears a treasure,
Freighted with the lotos-spell,
And there floats a liquid measure
From the lute of Israfel.
There (I told myself) were shining
Worlds of happiness unknown,
Peace and Innocence entwining
By the Crowned Virtue's throne;
Men of light, their thoughts refining
Purer, fairer, than my own.
Thus I mus'd when o'er the vision
Crept a red delirious change;
Hope dissolving to derision,
Beauty to distortion strange;
Hymnic chords in weird collision,
Spectral sights in endless range….
Crimson burn'd the star of madness
As behind the beams I peer'd;
All was woe that seem'd but gladness
Ere my gaze with Truth was sear'd;
Cacodaemons, mir'd with madness,
Through the fever'd flick'ring leer'd….
Now I know the fiendish fable
The the golden glitter bore;
Now I shun the spangled sable
That I watch'd and lov'd before;
But the horror, set and stable,
Haunts my soul forevermore!
13.2k
“You are worth more than the marigolds”
I am assured by my loving mother as a child
I believe her because the beauty in everything flow’rs and flourishes
when you’re young
The world is yours to take, everyone is yours to meet, everything is yours to do;
and I believe her.
“You are worth more than the marigolds”
My first friend at school proclaims,
and I believe them.
We’ve tackled ***** training and preschool, now onto the playground and phonics!
We run and run together, taking the world like we’ve
whispered once before;
and I believe them.
“You are worth more than the marigolds”
The middle school test scores announce,
and I believe them.
Primary school is in the past and I’m ready for responsibility!
I put on makeup to feel pretty, care about my grades more than the teachers believe and flash my smile to the boys who spit “compliments” at my feet;
and I believe them.
“You are worth more than the marigolds”
but.. I don’t believe them anymore.
I’ve gained just enough confidence to smile at everyone in the halls in case they are having a bad day.
Suddenly my youthful euphoric vision is graffitied with hateful words and violence.
I run and constantly chase the innocence of the world,
being surrounded by darkness.
My self esteem has hit an all time low. Why is the world this way?
My friends and I chase what we used to believe and end up in deep holes;
and I don’t believe them anymore.
“You are worth more than the marigolds”
And it doesn’t matter.
I have lost all hope of finding that beauty.
My heart is an aching mess of “I love you”’s
But all I hear is “you are meaningless”
Slowly these phrases of deep hate sear into my soul
I hear them every day and every night
You are meaningless
You are not worthy
You could not possibly be good enough
Until I wake up one dismal morning to realize that I have been defined by the ones around me.
“You are worth more than the marigolds”
..and enough!
Because even my friends who say I’m worth something turn around and sneer at others like they can’t too be loved.
Because while the world screams “I hate people” I whisper
“but I don’t”.
But that doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things
because we’ll find someone who loves us, right?
No.
Our words between just us mean nothing if we spin around and
spit in others’ faces.
And we know we hurt because we’ve been hurt but we don’t stop, none of us stop.
I dream of a world that screams a vulnerable
“I love you”
out into the world instead of a pulsing
“I hate you”
And a world that remembers that we are all worthy of love and not only the kind that makes you blush.
“You are worth more than the marigolds”
The phrase I’ve heard since I was in my mother’s gentle hold
can only mean so much when you think you’re crumpled.
Stashed away until you’re needed
always feeling so defeated
but the truth
not told enough
to our weakened souls
We are all worth more than the marigolds
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 11:15 PM UTC
People may tell you to not cry...
I won't because I know the difference.
They think they know when in fact they lie...
I say bury yourself in the deepest of detriments.
They may say that a new day will come...
They only spout what they can't comprehend.
They forget that you are ailing from a broken heart and that you're not dumb.
There's only you in your space, alone you stand...
Textbook responses are all they can offer...
They know not that it'll only make things worse...
There can be no replies so nice and proper.
To rid you of your life, your plight, your curse.
They may even share personal events that they think familiar.
Thinking what worked for them may work for you.
But no two situations are the same, albeit looking quite similar.
At the end of the day, you only owe it to yourself to pull yourself through.
I say feed your pain, grieve hard if you must
Wallow... Dwell... Drown yourself everyday.
Let your blood sear your insides, beneath your crumbling crust.
Let the world around you descend into destruction and decay.
What made me the expert...
To say these horrid, putrid things.
Because I am you and we both lay in the dirt.
Driven mad by the persistent echoes of our own misgivings.
I'm no expert... I am just a broken man.
Telling you to let yourself be caught in your own sad and angry song.
Be weak... Be as weak as you possibly can...
So you could rise from the ashes and emerge hale and strong.
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 8:53 AM UTC
It's as if a storm blew in, torrential rains, metal bending winds and standing in the eye was you.
Waves crashing. People locked up for days, hours, as time danced around -- the clocked stopped ticking.
A foolish venture to see the cause of such array. To see. To touch. To feel. Your sight penetrating through the clouds, ripping apart my seams. You watch as I came undone; undone by the velvet in your eyes, the bend in your smile. I twirl as I am stripped clean in your eyes. You see every scrape, scar, bruise and every moment I have tried to sew back together. Your touch burns my flesh. Sear into me a moment I cannot forget, a moment I grasp for in the darkness when I am all alone.
It's as if I can feel your fingerprint on my heart with every beat. As I stumble towards you, exposed and raw --- you absorb me. Absorb my pain, struggles, my darkness. You hold me so tightly it's as if when you breathe, I breathe the same breath.
Your embrace calms the storm. Calms the rush of thoughts, fears, worries and emotions. As I look up into your eyes, you see my future. My happiness. My vision of happily ever after -- holding hands in the sunset, in the rain, in the snow. As the winds die down, as the rain lets up, as the oceans settle -- I see you clearly. I feel your heartbeat. I know I am right where I should be. The eye of you.
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 3:51 PM UTC
I Send my words hurling into your airway like swords
I bite off your tongue with every sharp response my body conjures
I have every witty comeback on speed dial to drill into your spine
The way your gays drilled into mine Pull old pennies from my pockets and throw them into your eyes
So you may not look at me the way you have for so long
You're are barely worth my pennies anyways
Here's a donation to your sorry ***
How about I grasp your neck, at just the right spot, just hard enough, to crush your voice box
To dwindle your air pipe just a little
So you cannot throw those trash comments at anyone else
How about I crack each of your fingers
Push them deep into your pockets
So that you can't feel anything without remembering me
You look at me like a mannequin in the window of your favorite retail store
You try yo put a price on what I'm worth
Maybe you can try me on
Throw me on the floor
Grab another
How about I tattoo my name on your chest
So that you cannot take off another piece of clothing
Take off another girl
Throw them in the floor
And not remember me
You will never throw me on the floor again
For I am permanently burned into your chest
How about I burn off each hair on your body
One at a time let it Sizzle down and sear the skin
Let each tiny poor feel the pain one at a time over and over and over again
Until you are left, raw
This
Is the day I speak back when you catcall me from across the street
Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 7:21 PM UTC
1271
September’s Baccalaureate
A combination is
Of Crickets—Crows—and Retrospects
And a dissembling Breeze
That hints without assuming—
An Innuendo sear
That makes the Heart put up its Fun
And turn Philosopher.
7.3k
Not every honest thought
is full of truth.
Careful what comes out
in times of heat.
For honest thoughts can sear
a face with tears.
But truth will serve
and make a union sweet.
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 10:05 PM UTC
Don't judge my outer shell
Don't judge the marks or scars on my skin
Don't judge the look in my eyes as you spit the words of sin
Don't sear your judgements in my brain
Yeah ok, you think I'm insane
I hope you know that this inner pain does it
The pain you cause and from many others
So don't judge the tears that stream down my face
Sad angels cry the most
An angel as sad as I deserves to let these tears fall
So don't judge my outer shell
Don't judge it at all
Don't say I'm mental and insane
You don't know what has happened to me or what I've been through
So don't judge my outer shell
Till you've looked within me
Maybe then you'd see why I'm like this
Maybe then this will shatter your killing spree
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 3:52 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 firefighter explained to me
My brain was still aflame.
I have to water down my thoughts
If I am to be saved.
I focused hard and pondered on my
Faults and past regrets.
The firefighter’s eyebrows raised
And, in fear, began to sweat.
He said self-remorse would scorch my flesh,
And forgiveness is my water.
To stare beyond this choking smoke,
My vision must be broader.
And as I thought of all I’ve done,
And all I’ve yet to do,
I couldn’t help but sear a tear
For the scalds I’ve singed in you.
My head blew up, my heart explodes,
An inferno in my mind.
So he arced his axe behind his head,
And buried it in mine.
Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 9:47 AM UTC
Watching her cook was like watching
a duck in water. Making use of the old
utensils and cookware of the hotel kitchen
she made a meal with an eclectic mix
of elements she had pondered over breakfast.
Sauté, mince, sear, season:
these words flowed from her lips
like a second language in time with the
steady chops on the cutting board
and I was mesmerized when she
moved in perfect rhythm from stirring
the mushrooms to flipping the
sweet potato hash into the air;
tasting and adding more olive oil
to marry the idea on her palate to the
reality on the stovetop.
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 3:54 PM UTC
The darkness of the earth
And darkness of the sky
Are distinguished by the lines
of beaded light
that run across the edges of our eyes.
The steering wheel twists
Listlessly between the lanes
Of sleep and gasoline dreams.
The beauty of blank minds
is seen only in reflections
From the rear view mirror.
Our pavement demons
Sear in a stranger's headlights:
The Berlin wall stands re-erected
out of trees intertwined
With the night.
The circulatory glow of red,
bright against the black asphalt,
our driver's lullaby.
Seas of blindness illuminate
The distance wheels can fly
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 12:18 AM UTC
A breadcrumb I am - the morsel of my old dough,
a piece of chewed bread rotten, missed near a toe,
shredded by the sons of righteousness and “normality”,
entombed I am under the carpet to fulfil “morality”.
Mum added the yeast for me to grow, as well as flour,
Hoping my crust would golden as a vivid live flower,
She sprinkled little salt into me, to know the grimes,
Sugar too, for life brings out the salt to eyes, at times.
Dad poured the water, to soften toughness uncalled,
For man is kind too, not merely clay masked, walled -
And above all, they added affection and compassion,
They wanted me to satisfy mineself, not one’s ration.
Into the oven, 9 minutes, under fire: I show colors,
The warmth turned the heart warm for all others;
I am left to rest, to harden the shell and eternal body,
To be perfect as ma and pa wish: not adverse, shoddy.
But the stale, unpuffed, unfresh bread of this world,
covets but loathes what is good and not yet twirled,
It wishes for me to inhibit mold and evict dignity,
Mais allez, étrange moi, expose me not to malignity.
The least of their gurgling sounds puncture heads,
And the weakest of their advice the spirit dreads;
The making of me is the capacity of mine flexes,
Your ingredients suit not me, mortals and sexes.
Days yearn for you, not this battle of complexes:
You, mine old dough who suddenly “complex” is,
My parents baked me on low heat nice and gentle,
And they sear me with words not for me, mental!
Know you: Pita, Kmajj, Brioche, Shrak, or Baguette,
Bread is bread, could be different, but it is no threat.
Jan 18, 2023
Jan 18, 2023 at 9:27 AM UTC
The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sear.
Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead;
They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread.
The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay,
And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day.
Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood
In brighter light, and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood?
Alas! they all are in their graves, the gentle race, of flowers
Are lying in their lowly beds, with the fair and good of ours.
The rain is falling where they lie, but the cold November rain
Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again.
The wind-flower and the violet, they perished long ago,
And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the summer glow;
But on the hill the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood,
And the yellow sun-flower by the brook in autumn beauty stood,
Till fell the frost from the clear cold heaven, as falls the plague on men,
And the brightness of their smile was gone, from upland, glade, and glen.
And now, when comes the calm mild day, as still such days will come,
To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home;
When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still,
And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill,
The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore,
And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.
And then I think of one who in her youthful beauty died,
The fair meek blossom that grew up and faded by my side:
In the cold moist earth we laid her, when the forest cast the leaf,
And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief:
Yet not unmeet it was that one, like that young friend of ours,
So gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers.
3.5k
Watch me as I unwrap... passionate,
In the drench of our rain.....
And night falls...
A silent murmur
Where the heart pauses,
A malachite shadow
Penetrates fire,
Burning
A flame's fierce lick
Beneath pulse...
Somewhere....
His smile touches
Warming the red sea of my heart
Pulsating ripples, spread
Soliloquies upon my skin
Orated in Southern sighs...
Slowly...
Desire engages,
******* hardening
Under tongue's brush;
Moist ripe, swollen folds
Tempt his lips to kiss my yielding
Where breath catches,
And I ... smolder within each touch...
Drenched..
My scent quivers languor,
Rhapsodic,
Drowning pools, orchid petaled
Finger parted... tender;
Under sweet seduction,
Stirring the supple bloom,
Tasting the restless currents
That throb through my milky sea...
Small moans...
Electric blue hangs the air..
Primal lust etching curves,
Tracing dewy flesh,
Heating
Skin on skin,
****** scent….arousing,
Tongue brushed hardness
Between dampened lips...
Hot....
The scorching sear... stigmata
Sin licks along thighs,
Essence, dripping,
S W E E T
Sensory overload,
Breaking my binds...
Feed...
My appetite,
I am.. lashes soft, licking thoughts
No words
No words...
Just....
Feed the need that overwhelms,
Grow inside me,
Fill me once again.......
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 1:13 PM UTC
?
Ten days of silence
Then you whisper a word
A single puzzle piece
Is all that is heard
So cryptic, so soft
And what does it mean
When ciphers are scoffed
And wisdom obscene
?
!
Just hold it and wait
You’ll see one fine day
A lightbulb will light
You will see the way
Things fit in place
In crystalline form
The sear of that face
And the dust, and the worm
!
.
The art can get wet
And the artist can see
If the hand can forget
That the master is free
When playing the part
Of the folks in his game
With sight for the blind
New strength for the lame
.
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 2:33 PM UTC
[*I can only survive my life in two ways;
wasted by the fire of my gratification,
wasted by the fire of my longing.*]
Love had just woven my
intolerable shirt of flame, this
bedazzled blouse betwixt
an area brimming with smoke
and my own heart.
this consuming flame...
the flame that fuels itself with
my everything.
I am a sorceress at the stake.
I feel the fire sear
into my skin,
destroying the weak,
frail covering
to my body,
disseminating to parts
I didn’t know
existed.
The torment is utterly
consuming.
Everything within me,
every ounce of strength
that remains, struggles to
shed this shirt of flame.
[This devised torment
by love Herself.]
Yet, the blazing fire
is frantic for my body.
The flames
cling to me,
fast to my skin,
like you have
...and do
...and will.
We suspire the smoke from the flames which
destroy all that surrounds us;
it becomes a part of us that
our bodies will never be able
to discern...
to notice...
to erase.
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 2:51 AM UTC
Cupid comes a'knocking
Who is it what do you want
I come bearing gifts girl
Don’t be afraid open up
No Cupid not again
Haven't you done enough
When you lit my heart aflame
Plunged me into the deepest depths of pain
No cupid not again
No more joy turning to rust in my veins
And my heart beating beaten and bruised
And my eyes falling like summer rain
No cupid not again
I can't do this anymore
Aim that broken bow away from my heart
Find some other fool's door
Its different this time girl
This time I brought you the one
With brown locks and a crooked smile
And eyes that shine like the sun
Open up girl
Love can be rewritten and redone
It’s a process of years and centuries and eons
A persevering stroll not a manic run
Don’t lie to me Cupid
When your hands still hold the smoking gun
Rome wasn’t built in a day
But it sure was destroyed in one
There is nothing left to give of me can't you see
There is nothing left to be won
You failed me before Cupid
When you shot at him and missed
And he didn’t care a **** for me
While I dreamt of him in colours that don’t exist
How many more victims will you find
How many more hearts will you break like mine
How many more souls will your bow plunder and defile
Not anymore Cupid. Not this time.
I sharpen my claws and smile a wicked smile
Hone the fires burning in my eyes all the while
Prepare to rip the white wings off his body
Prepare to sear his halo to char
Come in Cupid, I whisper
The door is left ajar
Feb 13, 2018
Feb 13, 2018 at 4:56 AM UTC
I'm six feet underground, disoriented.
did I dig the grave, or was I meant for it?
the soil clumps together, stronger than ever
as it presses my chest, never to sever.
as I claw my way up, branches stab like pins.
before long, the deep cuts sear my exposed skin.
my eyes tire, and I rest.
but my rest fails the test.
the soil weighs me down further,
bringing me where demons murmur.
and that is where I now stand,
trapped in a layer of land.
and since making a move burns,
staying gives me what I deserve.
Jul 28, 2021
Jul 28, 2021 at 1:04 AM UTC
Oh, fuming teardrop!
You’ve boiled over from wrath and anger,
leaving painful blisters as you sear the heart
Why you don’t evaporate is a wonder
but there must be a valid reason…
If only to let the heart know it lives
Oh, fuming teardrop!
Will you ever learn how to forgive?
Oh, defiant teardrop!
Teetering on the edge and glistening,
refusing to fall to make yourself known
It is not fickle mindedness playing,
rather, a power play of emotions
a blatant refusal to show what’s within
Oh, defiant teardrop!
Why even stop yourself before you begin?
Oh, crocodile teardrop!
If you were truly so, slink back shamefully,
recede to your lacrimal gland and stay put
There is no need for your insincerity,
the world is chaotic as it is, too troubled
Fall not, trickle not, trick not who see you
Oh, crocodile teardrop!
How can you be so heartless to fool people so true?
Oh, pensive teardrop!
How gracefully you streak down window sills
Wash away grime and grit, cleanse everything
Flow unhindered, purify hearts you fill
Laughter may be the music of the soul,
but you are pure— the distilled spirit
Oh, pensive teardrop!
Will you course down blackened hearts, pay a visit?
Oh, jubilant teardrop!
Married to laughter, frolic and dance to its tune
Give birth to hope then soar with elation
Brighten faces, sparkle days, light up the moon
Let souls remember that you speak of pain, joy
Let them remember, then allow them to heal
Oh, jubilant teardrop!
Why did I ever doubt that you are spirit revealed?
Aug 31, 2011
Aug 31, 2011 at 4:24 AM UTC
A surface gleams its slick ripples,
Solid liquid covering varied depths,
Frigid water held strong to the reflection of sky.
Held steady in gray by overcasts,
That hide the blemishes on this day.
Crack a warning, glints of sarcasm pierce the eye.
Somewhere below live antique creatures,
Demons of yesterday encapsulated.
Slow with slime and cold with sleep,
They dream of spring, dream of a thaw.
When sunshine blasts the sound of life,
Screams an alarm none dare not keep.
The slow shift strains patience,
Green bubbles from woody mottled arms.
Here and there come the arthropods,
Beginning their feast upon new bounty.
Finding themselves delicacies to another,
The flying predator of the mighty worms.
Singing sweet songs that bring dismay,
From April to June sometimes beyond.
Summer arrives in time to sear,
Tears from this repressed eyesight,
The cold winter from the dark water,
Which breed parasites unknowingly to pester.
Teasing sanity of forest dwelling fauna,
To fester in the skin as a tick or leech.
Drawing life out into the open plane,
Whittling down strength for another day
As we lay out the bitter harvest,
As we find another season of complaint.
Reed Bass
January 5, 2008
Nov 14, 2009
Nov 14, 2009 at 3:06 PM UTC
We cling to the paper skin of the earth
because it may throw us off tomorrow.
Watch closely, Observe:
The grasping hands find one another,
fitting together like pieces of an old puzzle.
The gleam of a tear in the dark,
the arms of a father encircling his child;
these are the last whispers of an endangered race.
The earth may throw us off tomorrow
and dance in the sunlight on the next day.
Expect no pity, no compassion;
Even the tenderest kisses sear the skin.
Apr 9, 2012
Apr 9, 2012 at 10:18 PM UTC
The scientist-psychiatrist
the psychologic sociologist
has proved with his statistics
and his data-riddled literates
that nothing will be crippled
if they sweep the city clean
if they slay not only Tybalt
but the whole Verona scene
so they ****** it from our hands
from our brains and those to come
as the Ravens sear across the lands
and bindings come undone
They watch the pages flitter by
and cackle with delight
as the populace of fiction
by their hands is ripped alight
The licking of the laces
by the hungry tongues of flame
will ravage on the characters
you've come to know by name
Montag barrels forth and finds
the Fahrenheit has risen
Hester screams and claws her mind
out of this hellish prison
and Dorian will clamber up
to sit atop the pile
and weep for Pictures yet to sup
upon his looks and guile
And you'll watch as they obliterate
the city from within
de-storying our Paradise
so it won't be Lost again.
But I, Calpurnia? I warned you
that the fiery clouds would rain
I told you all, fictitious youth,
but you called me insane.
Apr 27, 2010
Apr 27, 2010 at 1:52 PM UTC
Pearl Jam
Sheets of empty canvas, untouched sheets of clay
Were laid spread out before me as her body once did.
All of five horizons revolved around her soul as the earth to the sun
Now the air I tasted and breathed has taken a turn
and all I taught her was everything
I know she gave me all that she was
And now my bitter hands chafe beneath the clouds of what was everything.
Oh, the pictures have all been washed in black, tattooed everything...
I take a walk outside, I'm surrounded by some kids at play
I can feel their laughter, so why do I sear?
Oh, and twisted thoughts that spin round my head, I'm spinning, oh,
I'm spinning
how quick the sun can drop away
And now my bitter hands cradle broken glass of what was everything
All the pictures have all been washed in black, tattooed everything
All the love gone bad turned my world to black
Tattooed all I see
all that I am, all I'll be.
I know someday you'll have a beautiful life,
I know you'll be a sun in somebody else's sky,
But why, why, why can't it be, can't it be mine?
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 3:41 PM UTC
Little one,
try not to be
so broken.
Save a shuddering
breath or two,
you've already spoken.
Little one,
emotions,
energy
is spent,
vent,
vent now little one,
cry on my collarbone.
Nerves and naves
may fail you
but I will never leave you alone.
I need red.
Give me purple,
fuchsia, and maroon.
All of the colors that sear your insides;
carnivals come too soon.
Little one,
let it out,
just
save me some.
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 7:09 PM UTC