"sidekick" poems
I miss your smile
The way you made me feel
You, the invincible brother
Me, your faithful sidekick
Why is a question I have asked
Over and over again
It has been 9 years
Without you
So much you have missed
I think about you daily
Wishing you were here
I want to hear your laugh
I want you to come ruffle my hair
You were taken too soon
It is not fair that I am here, alone
I miss you, Jimmy!
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 5:50 PM UTC
there’s a barnacle scar
deeply ingrained
on the basalt stack
at mark thirty two
whispering summer winds
scented oil
cotton and roe
drift
as waves brush
and shape
the sandstone shore
the briny air
and lost erratic
set a tone to this
pollyanna portrait
it's andrews undulations
and gifted benches
its concessions
and traces of the barry burn
its sculpted driftwood
and sanko lines
make this picture
almost perfect
children play
as venom spews
from the caterwaul pair
those odd looking mates
casting smiles
with arrested despair
settling shots
swiping bugs
dipping and darting
as photo men
and muscles
and long neck seabirds
make their turn
the hunched hoody
and his sorted sidekick
get their fill
(of moss and rubble ~ chubby and kelp)
nice to meet your acquaintance
the pho man would say
an odd drop
and ironic turn
from those horrific corners
of timeless desperation
down by cannon bridge
harbor seals
and carriage horse
are fronted by
raven shade
jolly tides pause
in quiet bays
(with curious looters
and *** pickers)
sand merchants
and field totems
all streamed by the light
cirrus strands
blanket the
outer edge
hovering craft
and shimmering willows
bolt the evening frame
blood orange
and tethered
with a filtered glare
bottle-nose dolphins
and seabirds
(and shifting tides)
are all settling in
for the long night stay
Mar 9, 2017
Mar 9, 2017 at 11:21 PM UTC
Dear Best friend,
You know who you are. You are the beautiful girl in the back of the class, who keeps to herself, but is still strangely likable. You are the girl with the piercing blue eyes and dark, dark sense of humor.
Dear Best Friend,
I know you literally are always willing to listen, whether it is talking about our mutual crush on that guy in our favourite class, or complaining about society, or my parents, or when I just need to talk about the weather to distract myself from the looming fear of everything going wrong.
Dear Best Friend,
I still remember when you first told me about your depression. I had always sort of known, but hearing you say it out loud, I honestly didn’t know what to do, because I don’t want you to end up like me, I don’t want you to feel like you have to turn to sharp inanimate objects, I don’t want your world to be dark, hopeless, I don’t want you to fall because depression is a slippery slope, trust me. I don’t want you to forever be broken. I don’t want you to be scared.
I just don’t want you to end up as ****** up as me.
Dear Best Friend,
I know I’m not perfect, I’m not even close, and I ***** up... A lot. But I will do what ever I can to ALWAYS be there for you. I will always be the dorky, idiotic, annoying sidekick.
Dear Best Friend,
You are beautiful, don’t let anyone, ever tell you otherwise. Especially not some 12 year old boy with a stupid haircut.
You are short, there is no denying that, but so is Billie Joe Armstrong and we still think he is the hottest thing since wood stoves.
You have blue eyes, that I know you think are weird, but they are like oceans only not as dark.
Your hair is almost as straight as the members in half the bands we listen to, but each curl falls in it’s own special place
You are beautiful, stunning, breath-taking, and every other synonym for that word.
Dear Best Friend,
I’m sorry you have to put up with me when I am like this. I know I should just bottle it up, but for whatever reason it always seems like I can’t stop the words from escaping. I’m sorry, I am so so sorry that you have to deal with me.
Dear Best Friend,
I really want to smack you upside the face with a brick sometimes. But I won’t, because I am more scared of you hitting back than I am of doctors (and that’s saying something)
Dear Best Friend,
I promise that I will always be there as long as you need me, whether it’s in the middle of the night or when I am thousands of miles away with timezone barriers between us, just call me. When you are scared, call me. When what you are scared of is yourself, call me. When you need a friend, call me. When you want to gush about your new boyfriend, call me. When you want to just chat, call me.
Dear Best Friend,
At this point I think of you more like a sister that a friend.
So, Dear Sister, I love you so much. Thank you for showing me that even the darkest nights have a sunrise, and that those sunrises are always the most spectacular.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 3:50 PM UTC
thankyou for staying here
by my side
through this rollercoaster ride
i do not deserve it
this merciful forgiveness
thankyou for treating me
like a princess
thankyou for staying here
my forever faithful sidekick
my lovable, loyal romantic
thankyou for staying here
thankyou for the forgiveness
Apr 23, 2021
Apr 23, 2021 at 7:39 AM UTC
Superhero
I have a pipe and dark sunglasses,
taking names and kicking some *****
I'm a powerless superhero,
they call me Captain De Niro.
Owe me money, you better pay,
or pain will be on your way.
You better not be selling drugs,
or my lead pipe will give severe hugs.
Don't be ****** any innocent women,
will be breaking your hands and fingers, all ten.
Molesting kids and you don't wanna know,
the dumpster, your ***** I will throw.
I don't allow any peeping or stalking,
with broken legs, there will be no walking.
I'm one of those modern day vigilantes,
on my head, I wear my wife's *******
Can't leap a building in a single bound,
like you, I get dizzy when spun around.
Can't go under water and summon fish,
I prefer them on my eating dish.
No fancy car or a sidekick,
but my pipe can break a brick.
Don't have an invisible jet,
like you, I'm in deep debt.
People have no idea who I am,
I might be Steve, I might be Sam.
Just a man who hates violence,
I hate people that are spineless.
I catch bank robbers in the act,
the odd against them are fully stacked.
I help keep crime off the streets,
can't count the number of villain defeats.
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 12:22 PM UTC
You're always there when I need you.
And you always have my back.
We laugh,
We fight,
We forgive.
When I am hurt, you make it better,
Because it makes you hurt to see me like that.
I need you in my life.
You are the other side to my soul.
You are the best friend I've ever had.
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 3:46 AM UTC
Marissa Ann was a firecracker of a little girl.
For her, there was no fence too tall to climb, no bully too mean to face, no street too busy to cross.
She was all tangled hair and toothy grins.
And she'd yank the book right out of my hands and say, "Gabrielle, we have more important things to do than read."
In the jungle of our lives, Marissa was a lioness, queen of the pride.
I was a mouse not indigenous to these parts of the second grade.
The world was a terrifying place, and I had no problem cowering in the corner, knee-deep in a pile of Nancy Drew.
I tried to stay huddled behind my words, drowning in the ink, attempting to let the pages be my armor.
Marissa would not let me.
When I allowed bookshelves to be my shields, she came guns blazing, and kicked them all down, then stood me back up on my feet.
She'd grab my hand and pull me head first toward adventure.
Marissa was tough, and everyone knew it.
There was not a soul alive brave enough to pick on Marissa Ann.
But me? I was an easy target.
The other girls said I was "weird" with my enormous wire frames resting atop full cheeks, and my frayed jeans, a glowing reminder of my mother's lack of wealth.
I heard the whispers on the playground about the chubby girl who read, (can you believe it?), chapter books.
Brianna was a demon of a child.
She'd bat her pretty little eyelashes and everyone would melt.
She had the entire second grade class wrapped around her tiny little finger.
She'd corner me on the soccer field and do everything she could to remind me that I was different.
But one day at recess, she was nowhere to be found, until I made my way through winding halls, back to the warmth of our classroom.
There sat Marissa with a devilish glint in her eye, waving me over to sit in the desk beside her.
Behind us, a sniffling Brianna, looking forlornly at the teardrop stains on her pink lace skirt, her mouth pulled tight into a perfect straight line.
I looked back at Marissa with a curious glance, then intertwined her hand with my own.
The sound of stifled sobs behind us and the warmth of her skin on mine sealing an unspoken vow between two girls with puzzle piece fingertips that only fit each other.
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 2:21 AM UTC
If I were an elephant
I know just what I'd do
I'd pack my trunk with all my junk
And move far from the zoo
I'd bring with me my monkey
Best friend and sidekick Preston
If memory correctly serves me
He's a **** at giving directions
Cause I'd like to move to Timbuktu
Either that or Kathmandu
One thing is clear as long as it's not here
Any old place will do
I'd then open up a doughnut shop
Run by Preston the monkey and me
Where we would toss sprinkles on top
With banana creme in-between
We'd be known far and wide for our doughnut delights
Oh and fancy schmancy eclairs too
Yes if I were an elephant
That's exactly what I would do
Wouldn't you?
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 1:08 PM UTC
Let's get back to the lazy days of summer
Where time stands still
Where we sit in the shade with our popsicles
and ice cream until we get our fill
Sip on some sweet tea and have a little picnic
or lay in a hammock reading with my sidekick
Where we walk around barefoot on the freshly cut lawn
or turn on the sprinkler for the kids to get their jump on
Where we watch the bees and butterflies flit and fly around
and listen to the whippoorwill's calling sound
Once God turns off the light we catch lightning bugs in jars
then lay back with our lover and count the stars
Let's get back to the lazy days of summer
Where time stands still
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 11:28 AM UTC
"You're the Ariel to my Prospero"
He says grinning
with dagger pearl teeth
that could nibble my ear
or easily rip out my heart.
Ignorant of his mundanity
He does not know of those
who came before.
Names are relative.
"You're the Puck to my Oberon"
"You're the Tink to my Peter Pan"
Heard 'em all.
Plight of the Manic Pixie
Not Dream Girl.
Charming Sassy Childish
girl.
Sidekick Extraordinaire.
But lower than Robin to his Batman.
Messenger, Trickster, Mischief Maker.
Companion.
Adventurer.
with a temper ten times his size.
A power unnamed. Unused.
Never Enough.
Never enough
to Want to challenge her master.
ProsperoOberonPeter
I will drink the poison for you.
I will sink the ship.
I will find the ****** flower
and enchant the Fairy queen.
Follow orders, then twist them.
With some glittler and a devilish smile.
Crazy Tiny
girl.
Too pixie to hold on to
Catch me Boy!
Alreadycaughtnoneedtocatch.
Little ****** Manic Pixie
Yearning for a kiss
a touch
a word.
When you're a manic pixie
there's no trio
no male sidekick to choose
over
the hero.
But the hero gets the girl.
Manic Pixies live to serve.
Not dignified or wise enough for Royal Athena.
Not ruthless enough for the Dangerous Diana.
Without the darkness of the Morrigan.
Virginity isn't a choice.
It's part of the job description.
Could I be your ladybird?
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 11:46 AM UTC
When I wanted to be a superhero
I forgot how important it is to have a sidekick
I forgot that when I tried to go into that good night gently
I did not have to go in alone
That when I fell face first into mud thick puddles
In places so dark it feels like drowning
You could have been by my side
I forgot that I am only human
That the only weapon I’ve ever held is a pen
And the notebook I keep in my breast pocket
Would burn up at the thought of a bullet
Superheroes don’t wear pocket protectors
So when my editing pen broke
I saw what a bullet wound might look like
But I still let you fall behind
The voice of reason
Of clichéd comedy sayin’,
“Holy Ginsburg crazy man
Poets don’t save people
They just look for reasons to cry”
And if you had gone in there with me
I might have come out alive
Gone back to my day job
Loved you proper
With 9 to 5 weekday normalcy
And nights so silent
I’d have to press my ear to the wooden floor
And listen to the sound of the cold expanding
Just to fall asleep
I made it to the other side of the city
I’ve since removed my armor
It sits wrapped in slowly thinning paper
Trapped between the lines I secretly wrote you into
I never had any powers in me
Just a lot of passion in me
But I still keep forgetting
I can’t do this alone
Sep 4, 2011
Sep 4, 2011 at 4:25 AM UTC
you can try to steal the show
but baby, remember your place
you're a sidekick, not a hero
maybe there's some grace in martyrdom
but that's not where you wanna go
step down, sit down
you're a sidekick, not a hero
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 1:14 PM UTC
There's no place like home. There's no place like home. There's no place like home. Dorothy's Kansas never looked so comforting, her black and white world never so safe--never so flat, so barren.
Didn't she learn her lessons? She caused such trouble! She gave Auntie Emm such a fright! That bump on the head must have caused her brain damage. After the "big storm" was only a memory, and the terrible twister only a town tale, Dorothy did it again.
She ventured out on her own.
Yet Mrs. Gulch was still a witch. And Dorothy's "nasty, little dog" still got into the garden. The sheriff was ready to track her down and clamp down on her for good! Running home frantically for help, Dorothy realized that Auntie Emm was still too busy ******** at her shiftless farmhands, henpecking tired, old Uncle Henry,
and he was just too cranky to care. The farmhands were supposed to be her friends, but they just started crabbing at her again.
They soon gave her what for. "Dot, didn't you learn a thing in life?" "Didn't we rescue you once from a pigpen?" "That heart of yours leads you in the wrong direction! " "Where are your brains, anyway?"
Heartbroken, naive Dorothy realized something that was quite profound. Her heart was always in the right place--she just needed the courage, the courage to know she was smart enough to make it on her own. So Dorothy packed her bags, especially remembering her red ruby slippers. She would never forget her loyal friend and sidekick, her beloved pooch, Toto. If she was going, he was going with her.
So there she stood, suitcases in hand, in her bleak, little, colorless world. Terrified, she stood upon the precipice. Fear or faith? And all of a sudden she was noticed again! Just what was she doing? Who did she think she was fooling? Was she crazy!?
"You'll never make it!", they all warned. "You don't know the first thing about how to live in a Technicolor world!"
"Sorry, I do love you", Dorothy answered back. "But I disagree and I will forward you my new address". So off she went finding the path down the yellow brick road.
Jul 4, 2010
Jul 4, 2010 at 3:54 AM UTC
I sold smack on a playground today
biding time to scrounge the rent--
Two months ago I had never even seen the stuff.
I'd never procured it for personal use,
let alone sold it.
Now I'm a full-time pusher of prescriptions
for problems that can't be cured,
a modern-day snake-oil salesmen
schlepping panaceas for every conceivable ill.
*Trying to cope with depression?
This'll give you a shot in the arm!
Your boyfriend just broke your heart
mere weeks after breaking your *****
Here's a ***** that you can depend on*...
I thought I was better than this,
but who can afford scruples
with bills to pay?
Internally
I struggle to compete
with people who would never deign to take note of me.
My revenge is in undermining their immaculate lives,
a pill-peddling Socrates
keeping creditors at bay.
I'd always envisioned being someone's hero--
at least being remembered for an act of creation.
Instead I'm an enzyme for eradication.
A cancer cell at best--
A ****** wrecking ball.
One day I woke up a sidekick
to a heroine that's never saved anyone...
Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 12:53 AM UTC
Last weekend,
one of your friends called me your manic pixie dream girl.
So in the movie that is my life,
I'm not even the main character,
just the quirky sidekick to my male protagonist.
And it's probably my ego speaking,
but I don't think that's right.
And I don't think that I,
of all people,
should be the one showing you the beauty of a world
that I only see in kinetic blurs and swatches,
passing by me in my free fall from this life to the next.
Because I tried once to see the world without a filter,
but its stagnancy sent me in a downward spiral
and somehow I ****** you into it--
into me.
And I don't mean to be your whirlwind woman,
destined to spit you out--disoriented--
somewhere that you've never been before,
somewhere that no map ever cared to acknowledge,
somewhere stained with my essence,
my idiosyncrasies,
and your new found head trauma.
And you're a rational guy
and I'm an on again off again rational girl
who needs a little help stilling the edges of her narrative,
who longs for a tether or a buoy
to keep her from flying off or sinking down.
So maybe if you held my shoulders to stop me from spinning,
my vision would sober up,
and I'd focus solely on your curves and your angles
as they entered my retinas,
while the rest of the world behind you
faded into blurry suggestions
to be adhered to by someone who gave a **** about them
And after you wiped the puke from your shoes,
maybe you'd see me focused in your eyes
and maybe, just maybe...
...you'd just call me your dream girl.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 2:08 AM UTC
I didn't mean for it to end like this, this wasn't meant to happen.
Broken shards and broken hearts.
I watched it tip and tumble and break.
I watched her countance tremble and shake.
I broke her.
My best friend, my superhero sidekick.
My clumsy hands had strangled her with my clinging affection.
I only wanted to show her
how much I cared
how much I cared
how much I cared
Oh did I care!
I cared enough to ****
I cared enough to move mountains and change lives and shift perspectives.
I cared enough to leave.
It was better
It was better
It was better
Not for me!!!
Not for her!!!
For us, it was better
For us.
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 1:31 PM UTC
They say "it's for your own good"
"You'll understand when your older"
After 17 years of living you'd think
I would know by now,
It's hard to wrap my head around,
Around a concept not so profound,
A life which my parents want me to live,
Which would mean it would be my life I would have to give,
I respect you,
And stay true,
True to myself and others too,
The values and lessons you've taught,
Which no amount of money or things could be bought,
For it's time to treat me as old as I am,
I am not once that young girl you had planned,
The one in love with feathers and lame tv shows,
The one who always carried her heart in her hand,
The one with dazzling brown crystal shone eyes and wondered around the land,
The one who didn't want anyone to get hurt,
The one now learned from the grime and dirt,
The one who wouldn't stop asking questions,
The one who always said "did I mention.."
The one who's eyes would fill in tears after getting a 'booboo'
but would be all better once you kissed it too,
The one who would be by your side holding your hand
The one who was daddy's little sidekick,
And who was momma's little measuring stick,
The one who didn't grow all too much,
The one who would be scared of movies and your arms she'd clutch,
The one who dreamed to play basketball,
The one who would be supported no matter how many dreams she had,
The ones as absurd as that,
The one who's hand would wrap around one finger,
The one who would laugh at everything you'd say
The one who love to watch the stars and lay,
The one who would love to play,
The one who you'd tuck into bed every night,
The one who would make you turn on a night light,
The one who was daddy's little girl,
And who was mama's pearl,
The girl in those summer dresses and a flower in her hair,
Is standing tall and strong as she shows you she cares,
She's going to make you proud,
For her words may not speak loud,
She's a runaway,
Off to a place unknown,
To explore a world,
And be who she wants to be,
The girl who wants to be free,
Just like how she did when she was young,
Just her and her heart,
Completely alone.
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 8:01 PM UTC
I can see it now, I was in 4th grade and we were all saying the pledge of allegiance with our hands over our hearts. "One nation, under God, indivisible with liberty and justice for all." I always thought it was "invisible". One nation, under God, invisible. It suddenly turned our nation into a superhero with the sickest super power ever, invisibility. Our nation was leaping over buildings and fighting crime in the moonlight with a bad *** sidekick named God.
One nation, under God, invisible. That's what i have become to this sidekick, invisible. I subsequently have fallen victim to the rare oddity that is my brain and finally realized that God doesn't even know who i am. Suddenly, this nation was not jumping over tall buildings, it was blocking the sunlight and causing an eclipse.
One nation, under God, invisible. I am invisible in this darkness of the night. But i searched for the moon relentlessly, knowing that it was my only chance of finding my way out of here. And once i found it, i held it in my arms, cradled it like a sleeping baby and careful not to wake it up because once it awakens it must escape to the sky and will no longer be mine. But to no avail, the moon was awake and whispered to me, "Dear child, did you really think you could escape God?"
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 1:59 AM UTC
you came to the rodeo
with your latest portfolio
of sidekick apparatchi(c)ks
colorful lily - a realpolitik mariposa
and gloriosa - tall like a ponderosa
while i rode the appaloosa-
cool like - little joe
do they make you hum
a sweet song like i do?
sitting on your spanish saddle
booted to skeedaddle
when i beat the buzzer
while buzzards circled-
beneath a purple sun
you came that time
when i rode
-on the blue mesa.
r ~ 9/24/14
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 3:10 PM UTC
I am tired of being an empty shell that you find beautiful & eccentric.
I am tired of being a trope made by authors and directors.
I am like war and peace and not like a tissue paper you made me out to be.
I am tired of being your favourite shade of red.
I am tired of being a brush stroke, when I am the entire painting.
I am tired of being pinned to a pedestal.
I am tired of my existence and my name being relative.
I am tired of being a zany sidekick to the male protagonist in the movie that is my life.
I am tired of you thinking that I need help stilling the edges of my narrative, who longs for a tether or a buoy to keep her from flying off or sinking down.
I am tired of being told – unconventional, different and other such synonyms by boys, that I am not like other girls as if they are a disease and I am magic.
I am tired to be known as someone with wacky quirks and idiosyncrasies.
I am tired of being Alaska Young.
I am tired of being Sam from The Perks of Being a Wallflower.
I am tired of being Tiffany from The Silver Linings Playbook.
I am tired of being tagged as Sam from Garden State.
Or even Marla Singer from Fight Club.
Or even an Amelie or Penny from Almost Famous.
And every Zooey Deschanel character.
I am a Clementine.
I’m a Sylvia Plath.
I’m a Dorothy Parker.
A Maya and a Margaret.
You see, I am well versed
in death and in silence.
I have my interests and I am like all of the above. But I am “like” them. I am not them.
I am me.
I am scared now.
Scared of boys claiming to be wrapped in barbed wire
but is really a caged petting animal in the zoo.
I am tired of boys who thinks romance is a Hemingway novel.
But, most importantly I am tired.
Tired of men not falling in love with me
but instead falling in love with the idea of me.
Nomoreokaythankyouplease.
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 3:22 AM UTC
I have yet to manifest all I am,
Like the prolonged discovery
Of a well known secret.
Here's a free grand tour
Around here special guest,
I would very much like it
If you stuck to my side
Like a sidekick.
I, the heroic tour guide
Of so many surreal wonders,
And darling oh my--
The setting sun sat beside
Two bottomless candles whistling.
Before you knew it,
Their identities were indistinguishable,
In their fervid resplendence.
Frank motives are held back,
Control is so fallibly crass.
What would happen if the
Suppressor were to collapse?
We would expand,
Like we toiled for.
Originally written 2/27/11
Revised 10/19/14
(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 6:49 PM UTC
buy me on the black market like the instability I am.
watch me hurtle through negative space backwards,
the planet-wide catastrophe of a sun-sized storm in me.
Call me Carbon-14.
it’s the latest piece of my galaxy-sized identity, another chemical
small enough to wage nuclear war.
you’re witnessing my radioactive decay,
the deterioration of everything I used to be into
everything I might be,
a kind of reaction that happens when one of my ‘downs’
becomes an ‘up,’
no aces up my sleeves or full houses of face cards in spades,
but I’ve got straight sevens,
protons neutrons electrons, carbon to nitrogen.
beta decay, the mass production of passive procrastination;
second in command, sidekick sidetracking heroes.
Call me Nitrogen standard 14.
watch me decay into the air that you breathe,
seventh most common gas in the Milky Way galaxy,
keeping things fresh and stainless like my steel armor,
try and make me combust but I’m fireproof, bulletproof,
balanced and on my toes in a defensive position,
fists raised for the fight that you’re going to put up.
my axis is more stable than yours. step into the rings of saturn,
ring the bells to start the rounds, champion takes home the stars,
wraps orion’s belt around their waist and buckles it tight with nuclear waste.
everyone loves an underdog story, but only when they know,
positively, that the underdog will win.
with you and me, it’s a 50/50 on who exactly has the upper hand
and who exactly is going to win, but I’ll make bets with the elements around me,
the carbon that I used to be hashing out 20’s and oxygen
claiming she’s not one for gambling.
baby, you’re in my lungs, you’re in my corner of the ring.
she’ll slip in a 50 like my chances, and I’ll pretend that I don’t notice.
phosphorus is too fiery to root for me,
he’s more of a heavyweight believer than me.
Call me contagious
when my knuckles bloom across your jaw and knock away
all of your sensibility, stability, bruises like moons
as the mirror shatters every reflection of who I used to be.
Call me Carbon-14, but know that I am radioactive,
actively changing, reigning champion of breaking perceptions,
and you’re just the impression of the death that I’m carbon-dating.
Dec 27, 2015
Dec 27, 2015 at 11:43 PM UTC
The fairytale was my life.
But the story itself wasn't mine.
Placed in a town
In a time of kings and queens,
Princes and princesses,
I was a commoner.
The palace was my dream
but not for the money,
obviously for the love.
I saw him everyday,
Stealing food with his adorable monkey sidekick,
Swift and sly,
He was calm and kind.
We greeted from time to time
With the simple eye lock
And a sweet smile.
My heart danced for hours on end
Yet he'd have forgotten me by then.
It didn't matter-
He knew I existed,
That was what was most important to me.
I watched him graciously live
The scary life.
Risks of being caught
But he laughed it all off.
I begged for another word
As I followed him in my only clothes,
Stalking after him but only to get a glimpse
Of the poor prince he meant to me.
I dreamt about him every night
Even if our eyes only spoke-
Even if his eyes only said one word-
Even if that one word was
“Hello.”
But after days of analysing him,
Figuring him out through everything but words,
I was caught off guard-
Our eyes didn't catch each other anymore.
He forgot I existed.
He didn't acknowledge me.
He didn't smile at the least.
But the closer I got and I could see-
His eyes were blind.
There was someone else.
I saw him wishing for the world,
Wishing for her,
Thinking about her.
Wanting to be with her.
Needing her.
To say I was broken was an understatement.
He changed.
He followed into the palace,
He stayed there for long,
I barely saw him.
He changed from me into them.
He became a prince.
She accepted him-
It was still romantic.
He rode his flying carpet into the night
The same night I saw the stars as his eyes.
He looked at her with his heart,
The same way I hoped he looked into me.
He gave her more than the magic lamp ever could,
The same way I wished on the moon he could give me.
His love was in his heart.
My love was in my soul.
He dressed up for rags
Getting ready to accept riches,
Wishing on a genie,
For her and her heart.
Feelings broken I realised he had fallen in love.
He was Aladdin
He was never mine.
It was clear as the sky;
I wasn't his Jasmine.
Aug 24, 2015
Aug 24, 2015 at 5:48 PM UTC
im a shell of a lighter baby
not used for the flame but for the pretty picture on the side
im a scaled down turnaround mama
watch me do it again
im a defiant defect sister
you dont know the metaphor youre messing with
be my sidekick confidante
match my song and dance
pray for bread and butter
they never had a chance
entranced by all the little lines
anything for some piece of mind
im a knowitall grassfire honey
turned around by the wind
im an everloving choo choo train
believing the things you say
im a lost and broken soul sweetheart
give me tape or give me death
Dec 20, 2011
Dec 20, 2011 at 5:59 AM UTC