"unforgivably" poems
you swallowed prunes as if your life depended on it, and to your mental state, they were better than any gateway drug or needle implanted into your muscles
the rough exterior cracked and ripped apart your lips unforgivably; tearing down your esophagus with the force of a peach pit
you rubbed dried apricots onto your skin as if that could cure you of all your sadness; as if it could take the need to get away and drown yourself
until you were buried deep into the soil and there are flowers nestled into the crooks of your bones and you tasted of sweat, ***** and tears
when at night you sit on the edge of your bed contemplating life or death between sobriety and a drunk that lingers for days on end clinging under your nails
and to all the people who roll their eyes at you and say ‘you’ll get over it’
tell them to **** themselves; tell them that when they see apricots, they see sunshine, but you see death to infinity and beyond;
you see all the broken promises that were whispered into the knots in your back
you see the lily pads of roses that dripped with regrets and words that were never said
words that gripped your lungs like a vice in the back of a car
when you thought of love, you thought of apricot kisses rubbed against your lips;
of rolled up aluminum foil
of lighters drained of their fluids in a week time
of the close to boiling water that invaded your personal space and reached the tip of your nose
and of peach kisses from Georgia that dug its way into you; promising another day
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 1:20 AM UTC
there's this 1945 jacket that i have, this military-grade thing, and it has these white paint splatters on it from probably 1968, or at least i hope that's when they're from. i like to think this jacket that i have has seen the revolutions i missed, on the shoulders of a soldier that i knew in his white-haired days, whose nose is feminized on my face--it's too big, but it's his, and so i like it there--and who learned to walk a second time without flinching, whose goodness never needed flowered language, and whose goodness i take with me where i go. and then on the shoulders of a soldier's son whose legs hyperextend like mine, who falters unforgivably and breaks what he loves like i do, and who also loves wine and music, and who loves the best he can. there are all these pockets in this jacket that i have, and these rows of buttons that take forever to line up, and a little tiny hole in the elbow, and strings all at the wrist. i pull the strings like i pull up grass and i pick at what's healing and when i was a little girl i wiggled my baby teeth before they were ready to fall. i forget that 1945 was a long time ago and every string i pull is one string less for the next soldier, or soldier's son, or soldier's son's daughter who tries. one string less for the next revolution, one string less for the picturebook wedding, one string less for the girl-on-the-side. but this jacket that i have, it's still stoic, and it's still good. the soldier that i knew in his white hair is good still from where he is, and i can still see his blue eyes in mine, and i can still see that the soldier's son loves even though he falters, and so do i. i try to pull out fewer strings, and i try to be a soldier--a good soldier--i always try.
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 11:28 PM UTC
The only thing I can tell you with absolute certainty is that love is inescapable.
Love will find you. Find you naked, shaking in your darkest caverns clinging to heartbreak and faded polaroids with trembling hands. Find you locked up in towers fortified with fear. Find you upside-down. Find you alone once again walking the streets at one in the morning praying for street lights to fade behind you. Find you standing before tombstones or ice cream trucks or a preacher man. Find you hiding from your mother or God or both. Love will find you.
Love will take you. Take you to the place you parked your car that night and noticed for the first time the way their skin in the moonlight had the unspoken power to shatter your own. Take you through the annals and ventricles of your heart and peel away at the scars like super-glued band-aids. Take you to the hills and home again. Love will take you.
Love will bind you. Bind you to your family like the pages in the cookbook your mother used to prepare your favorite meal. Bind you to the girl who makes you shake when she's cold or the boy with eyes warm and clear blue like hot springs. Bind you to yourself. Love will bind you.
Love will break you. Break you down to jigsaw puzzle pieces your grandparents attempt on Friday nights, hands shaking with arthritis, and leave you incomplete. Break you away from your callused convictions and shove a blunt fist into your softest spots and leave you covered in scratches. Break you the way earthquakes break buildings or alcohol breaks families and bones; unforgivably, irreparably. Love will break you.
Love, desperate and strong, simple and tenacious, fiery and fierce.
Love will find you, take you, bind you, and break you.
And you will not escape.
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 12:14 PM UTC
You are his personal entertainment
His guilty pleasure.
Nothing is hidden from him.
Everyone fears him not because of the stories that are told about him but
because he's knows your secrets,
He SEES them.
All your 'secrets'
All the ***** sins that are unforgivably unforgivable
those ***** little deeds that you've committed,
he knows all of them.
He watches from the darkness, he is always close.
Have you ever wondered about your shadow?
How it moves slickly by you?
Is it really 'your' shadow?
Come a little closer, i'll let you in on a tiny secret........
Its Him.
The darker the shadow the more secrets he has against you.
The more power he has over you.
He taunts you to do more evil so you wouldn't forget who holds the reins on your life.
Every one has two sides the good and the bad
its only a matter of which side you play with the most
its only a matter of who always aims to sit on top of the nice list
or who plays with the evil in the dark more..
Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 11:32 PM UTC
One day
I'll write poetry that
does not echo in his honor,
or shatter hearts like his hands
so unforgivably did.
But unfortunately,
and as misfortune may have it,
these words still breathe for him.
May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 9:43 PM UTC
i was fifteen; disoriented; drunk on shame and a little *****
violated; infringed upon me like a school yard bully
waiting to pounce upon his young victim
i was dressed in white, a pure vacancy
with every drink i was unknowingly inviting the lion
making a bitter den for his carnal disposition-resentment
a secret-i never promised to keep it
we share blood! a casualty, unforgivably forgotten
i wasn't able to bear the weight of his words any longer
needed to relieve the tension building up in my somber, fragile, bones
my apprentice was a slender, silver blade
and i unlocked the beasts' crate-allowed him to flow through the wound
like rain-underneath the bright streetlight on a december evening
looking for anything to help me forget
but the beast i set free, the beast was me!
with that final laceration i desperately looked for the thread
the thread that could stitch my hand back onto wrist
but time became syrup-slowing and sticky
and the moon shone on my left limb, wrongful display
i reach for my pulse. drowning in the cold
in my note-i should have apologized to the maid
for having to clean up
all my pain
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 7:36 PM UTC
Who is worthy?
How do I know?
I see so many others
That I know deserve
Only the best.
So why do I not.
Why do I see myself
As something less?
Am I wrong?
Am I bad?
Did I sin unforgivably?
Is there even such a thing
As unforgivable?
I forgive all,
Except for myself.
What different trait
Do I possess?
Is it just inevitability
That we all hate ourselves?
How do I learn
To let my wrongs go?
To accept the past
And be okay
With having a future?
I say it's time,
Time to love.
Self-love.
Unconditional.
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 11:42 PM UTC
Somebody please tell me why I miss someone who has hurt me so much.
Unforgivably and unlawfully has he treated me – and demolished my life with his icy touch.
So why do I miss him with this ache in my stomach and with tears in my eyes?
O why O why? When he caused my childhood’s demise?
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 7:05 AM UTC
Every man
I have ever
Loved
Admired
Or even
Respected
Has in some way degraded me
Unforgivably.
This is why I prefer to meet them in passing,
As shadows with hard fingers and
Leers
Or as ghosts with an extra tip
For the pretty waitress.
I cannot love
Admire
Or even
Respect them
If I really see their faces.
So I don't
Look.
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 6:43 PM UTC
Playing a harp
with no strings
I swear I hear beautiful music
it seems derivative
unconscious tussle-trap
you sit
reclined at 75 degrees
in a chair made from
the most bleached bones
they were promised earnestly
you seem to love me
you do.
I always tell too much,
I am very good at poker, but
I cannot lie about things
when they tend to matter,
the cards are pretty with
rounded corners and
red shapes (not like the actual
Heart I keep muffled under
my shirt, overwrought metaphor
that it is)
I've learned to
hold them flat
against my chest breathe
slowly
not like the ocean
I have swallowed my eagerness
tasted chalky salve
hoped it was medicine
weathered electricstorms
conjoined love and self
(which was the point, once,
and i think will be the takeaway
when this is all over)
lost poetry lost you
become stoic but warm
a man
instead of
wounded still I fear
I always smile a beat
too short
lately,
you always know,
It's not fair,
and we could talk later
I could see you around
but neutered love
still is Love.
Unforgivably so.
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 2:05 AM UTC
You walked me through the gardens,
Past the pot-heads,
Fuming from their ears,
I see roses,
Remember the roses,
Beside you,
Keeping my hands,
Locked within themselves,
The stone monument cold,
Unforgivably firm,
"Show me"
I refuse,
But with time,
Present my scars,
Stifling tears,
Anchored by your arms,
Watching white roses,
"I'm sorry"
Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 3:20 AM UTC
Cyclical consumption stops here, friend,
One second has opened these eyes,
to everything new, to constant change,
and since many could not give her the time of day,
I once met a lady.
She made this heart’s pulse fall
upon eyelids, as she slid in closer
to tell her secrets, burning words to lament
this unforgivably stained memory,
some use it for revenge ,
but others don’t have such luxury.
Fear of the Ultimate Rejection,
became self-absorbed just like everyone else,
just not as clever or witty.
Constantly referencing the outside,
determining if it will help me.
In total limbo zones nothing changes
too drastically, till it’s time to leave.
Am I Ready?
May 14, 2011
May 14, 2011 at 7:17 PM UTC
Singing songs
Of promises and perhaps probabilities and possibilities
Unforgivably forgetting
The selling of your soul and its forbearance.
Provocation upon provocation.
Do not make me promises.
Do not cut open your veins to show
How you bleed my very soul inside you and outside
Do not love me more than I can love you
Let me be so sane
Do not gift me a piece of your soul so raw and blisteringly breathtaking
Luminosity unparalleled and the strength of the womb of a dying sun
For I shall sell even my soul
Rub off my existence from each scrap of nothingness
Rein in my existence to the void
For I shall not stop searching the vastness of this universe situated in my twisted mind
To bring you the most beautiful of sacrifices just to show
What you are to me.
Provocation upon provocation
Upon the existence of life
Of rationality
Of stories old and new
I love you
As much as I can with this hollow temporary shell
On a spinning ball of rock
For an infinitesimally small a moment
I love you
As much as any being of stardust can
And more
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 1:36 AM UTC
I feel like a *****
I say a lot of really unforgivably cruel things
To myself
All day
Everyday
It's been years since I have spent a day
Not muttering insults at myself
But they are all true.
I can't decide if truth or kindness should win when it comes to hurting myself emotionally.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 2:37 PM UTC
You said I was so sad because I didn't love myself,
that if I weren't so
pathetically
unthinkably,
unconsolably,
sad
I would find myself with a friend or two.
I think you believed it
I think you thought it over and over in your head..
blaming
angry
accusatory
repetitively
carving out space for it behind your eyes
so you would never wonder
If my despair was not self inflicted…...
that perhaps I was crying because I loved myself
as I loved you,
and her
and all of them,’
and I thought I knew you
and her
and all of them
as well as I knew myself
And then she changed,
you changed like all of them
and when the curtain fell I was
pathetically
unthinkably,
unconsolably,
hurt , alone,
and still in love with myself
and wondering why I was not good enough for anyone anymore.
good enough to be in their presence
to be in their hearts;
to be carved behind their eyes.
I cry because after all that you
pathetically,
unthinkably,
unforgivably,
blamed me.
Angrily
assaulted and
accused me of existing
as less than
And reminded me
daily
I was alone.
Maybe I’m not sad because I don’t know myself.
I am sad because you don’t
I am not sad because I don’t know who I am.
I am sad because for you it was not enough.
I am not sad because I am lost,
I am sad because I no longer have a place to call home.
the only time I am disappointed in myself
Is when I allow myself to admit
That I miss you.
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 2:03 PM UTC
When the ocean broke,
I asked if the hurricane current in our mouths would disappear.
She told me “Hopefully never.”
I asked her why
and she replied with “because this will be the only chance
we can swim unforgivably under thunderstorm skies.”
I haven’t touched the sand
scratching the rocking boat in my throat in two years
for fear of throwing up seaweed I keep telling my friends is courage.
They call it whiskey breath and cigarettes.
I call it being misunderstood. I
forgot what summer skin tasted like
but I can remember the smell of sunscreen and her hair.
It’s a sunburned scar everyone winds up leaving on my shoulders,
they tell me to always apply spf 50
as if it’s my fault I’ve only walked on eggshells for 23 years.
No one likes a person with capabilities of expressing how they feel.
It’s like taking a shower with a tshirt on, a layer of
an outer skin that’s entirely not mine changing the
hue of my pink skin to a shade that’s “flattering” for my “figure”.
When I was a little girl the only thing I wanted was to
run wildly through the jungles of red thread carpet naked,
completely aware of how obscene I would look but **** I was fierce,
shy around everyone but myself,
unapologetic for the romance conducted in my head,
I should have ran an orchestra, leading the rhythm of my soul around the bones of Little Me.
It would have been beautiful but instead I let the
pieces of my spine
break in sprinkles dusting cupcakes
I would throw away when no one was looking.
It was like I was afraid of the thick frosting sticking to the walls of my
throat like peanut butter,
or words when I’ve lost myself in the theory and potential of someone
I desperately want to love.
The only time you accept yourself is when there is someone else
holding you at night because your breathing is matched with
someone who doesn’t understand why you reached for a
cigarette in the first place.
I do not understand myself.
And that is entirely okay as long as I am laying naked,
under July sun,
covered in Long Beach Island sand screaming I am sorry
for the little girl I had been and how very different I am now.
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 12:28 AM UTC
usually words s p u t t e r,
but your
dilemmas
make me
unforgivably...
speachless
Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 3:14 AM UTC
I would like to take a moment
and thank all my brothers
and sisters
that have died before me
those who died
sliding down my mothers throat
racing towards her gut
and their own deaths
those that went right
instead of left
and left instead of right
as we swam and raced
not knowing anything
of anything
to all those that died before me
and after me
And apologize to all the children
I will never see smile
those that died
in my teen angst tube socks
and crust stained sheets
those that died
wrapped in paper towels
and on tissue
and toilet paper
and tossed in trash bins
trapped in latex graves
and swirling and twirling
down the drain
May god forgive me
for living without
Republican wisdom
and law
and legislation
what unforgivably shame
to not make sure each
and every single one of you
did not go to waste
But not all hope is lost
Republicans are working hard
on new laws
and new legislation
and new prayers
first they will secure you
a womb in women
willingly or unwillingly
teen or adult
consensual or ****
and then to be fair
(because we can always
trust a politician)
they'll be writing
and passing laws
to make sure
we don't casually enjoy our *****
without making sure
not one of you is wasted...
Dec 7, 2017
Dec 7, 2017 at 8:25 PM UTC
I...
I was...
I was wrong...
I wasn't...
I wasn't... framed
I killed... an innocent
Man...
Man...!
Man?
That's what's done it!
That's what put me to suffer...!
Man!
I shouldn't be mad at harming...?
I killed millions of innocents...!
Innocent men!
Ha!
But that makes me...
A guilty man...
Guilty...
But...
Why was I framed...?
No.
Why did I THINK I was framed...?
Why...?
I was wrong...!
UNFORGIVABLY...!
WRONG!
Aug 19, 2017
Aug 19, 2017 at 8:25 AM UTC
I was framed...
I was framed by...
By a lunatic
I was framed
I WAS FRAMED! I WAS FRAMED AND NOW I SUFFER
Endless suffering...
Endless...
There is no end...
None...!
I need...
I need to strike...
I need to finish this FOOL...!
Come...
Come to me...!
Come to your DEATH...!
Let me show you...
What happens...
When you mess...
With ME...
This...
This is unforgivable...
You are dead to me...!
You will never be...
Forgiven...
Aug 18, 2017
Aug 18, 2017 at 8:46 PM UTC
She was unforgivably beautiful
in a way that killed his heart
every time she walked past
and he fell to silence
and lost his dreams
and died inside the shy moments
that overwhelmed him
in the presence
of her unforgivable beauty
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 10:38 AM UTC
There’s a ponderous reality,
Really,
That knocks about
On the door in front of me,
The one labeled Home.
Glaring,
Daring me:
Yield.
I ruminate
Berating myself in
Dramatic parades of
Of gashes
Seeded deep
In haphazard running
Of a careless heart
Causing too much scarring
To relinquish
Control
Of a new breath.
But then again
I look
At that page
Where not enough words
Scribe how I feel
It’s indescribable
Nothing left to write
Because nothing’s missing
Misery’s been cast out
Squabbling the scramble of my attempted grasp
See, it gave me comfort for so many years
I find misery in not having it
Mostly though, I feel the drop of you
Holding my head
Spiraling down
Into the lush of you
The embrace that
Have your eyes
The ones that are blue
Flirting with grey
The ones that look at me
With such adoration
That I think you must be
Staring through me
Until I realize
I am the dead end.
I am yours,
Don’t you know.
Unforgivably yours.
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 7:02 PM UTC
It was unforgivably uncomfortable,
The prying gaze of the Sun.
It felt like a million eyes staring
Without blinking censuriously at my soul.
Stripped of pride with nowhere to hide,
I felt naked, wrapped in her fury;
She spoke sternly without pity.
Her words pierced my skin like arrows
Poking at the very core of my sanity;
I raged with sadness, helpless, drying.
Till Night came in shining armor:
To save the day.
© Layiglover
Jun 27, 2019
Jun 27, 2019 at 6:27 PM UTC
Of thee I read
Of thee I write
Of thee I dream
Shamelessly and unforgivably true
‘tis all dictated by every fiber
—of my being
Feb 10, 2023
Feb 10, 2023 at 7:48 PM UTC