"unshared" poems
A rainy dreary Halloween from 2006.
Candlelit late night
bedroom phone calls.
Your dream about a train ride and mushroom farmers.
My dream about hidden cities.
"I want to feed you ****** and a muscle relaxer and **** the **** out of you"
How long has it been Now?
Too long maybe, some lines are stretched too thin, through waiting and longing, love and lust and the once closest of friendships,
Stretched like Taffy till nearly gossamer strands wound meandering miles of complex life events and other unshared memories.
A too familiar voice.
Echoes of "I want you to have the perfect blow job"
Spaces in conversations that would have been empty if not for the most contagious laugh I've ever heard.
One not matched before or since.
Can you live in the past and long for the future? Is it greedy to desire more of something that was already so sweet? I don't tell anyone about my dreams now. Candles sit on.the shelf primarily unlit.
There are no more secret cities.
No mushroom farmers or train rides
But there are still threads
Stretched like Taffy but woven like a tapestry.
Across time and distance.
Made of memories.
All you'd have to do Is tug on a thread.
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 7:18 PM UTC
Vulnerable is what I am
When I let the real me outside
It's not safe, sometimes, to be so carefree
Should I risk hurt, or play safe and hide?
But people who love me keep asking me
To open my heart up to them
I don't know why that's so uncomfortable
I guess vulnerable is not what I am
The few times I've worn my heart on my sleeve
My words never came out right
So I've practiced being less vulnerable
And kept my real thoughts out of sight
People keep saying to use more words
But I fear I'll be misunderstood
Maybe I won't express myself right
Or I'll say way more than I should
Words, I've found, are containers for thoughts
I don't know why I sit here and hoard them
When I store them unspoken, my thoughts sit unused
Unshared—a container unopened
It's a little like having a pantry of food
And keeping it all to myself
Food's meant to be shared, and if it is not
It helps no one—just rots on the shelf
And that's how it is with my words kept inside
If love doesn't share them some way
My thoughts stored inside these containers called words
Can spoil and turn bitter someday
I used to complain that people didn't understand me
And for that I would silently resent them
But the silence, I now see, is of my own making—
If they don't know me, it's because I haven't let them
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 1:29 PM UTC
Never the popcorn
for a story untold,
little victories alone
that never unfold.
Never any applause
for a story unheard,
all the joys of day
and yet not a word.
Never saccharine sweet
the story unshared,
so chatter aloud
and let no one be spared.
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 5:49 PM UTC
Here I am, drunk again.
So long friend.
I can't recall how many times I tried to reach you. Or how many time my student became the teacher, but I'm drunk again.
Remember all those bottles left unshared.
Got my brain in a snare.
Remember how I tried to care? But I'm drunk again.
Tip the top til it topples over, this stables staggering, are we sure it's sober?
No, no, November was waiting but we're still just debating. Am I drunk again?
Killed you with water, drownd you with tomorrow's sorrow.
But we're you listening?
This fires raging but still contained. I promised I'd stay sain, if only to show you.
If only to hold you.
If only I was sober.
If only you would stop smoking those sick clovers.
But I'm drunk again.
So long friend.
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 7:21 PM UTC
Unshared memories,
is there anything that’s worse?
Unshared memories
separations final curse
Unshared memories
highlights of yesteryear
Unshared memories
bring to my eyes another tear
Unshared memories
of us dancing in the rain
Unshared memories
just one more “never again”
Unshared memories
of the way we used to laugh
Unshared memories
become the painful aftermath
Unshared memories
at least no more with me
Unshared memories
now he’s where I used to be
Oct 24, 2010
Oct 24, 2010 at 1:58 PM UTC
NAY! swear no more, thou woman whom I called
Star, Empress, Wife! Were Dian's self to lean
From her white altar and with goddess lip
Swear thee as pure as her pale breast divine,
I could not deem thee purer than I know
Thou art indeed.
Once, when my triumphs rolled
Along old Rome and blood of roses washed
The battle-stains from off my chariot-wheels,
And triumph's thunders round my legions roared,
And kings in kingly ******* golden bound
Shook at my charger's foot, past the hot din
Of Victory-whose heart of golden pride in wound
Most subtly through with fire of subtlest pain-
My soul on prouder pinion rose above
The Roman shouting, to an air more clear
Than that Jove darks with hurtling thunderbolts,
Or stains with Jovian revels-that separate sphere,
Unshared of gods or man, where thy white feet
Caught their sole staining from my ruddy heart,
Blazing beneath them; where, when Rome looked up,
'Twas with the eyes close shaded with the hand,
As at some glory terrible and pure,-
For no man being pure, a terror dwells
Holy and awful in a sinless thing-
And Caesar's wife, the Empress-Matron, sat
Above a doubt-as high above a stain.
Nay! how know I what hell first belched abroad
Tall flames and slanderous vomitings of smoke,
Blown by infernal breathings, till they scaled
Thy throne of whiteness, and the very slaves
Who crouched in Roman kennels wagged the tongue
Against the wife of Caesar: 'Ha! we need not now
And opal-shaded stone wherewith to view
A stainless glory.' In that day my neck
Was bound and yoked with my twin-Caesar's yoke-
Man's master, Sorrow.
I know thee pure-
But Caesar's wife must throne herself so high
Upon the hills that touch their snowy crests
So close on Heaven that no slanderous Hell
Can dash its lava up their swelling sides.
I love thee, woman, know thee pure, but thou
No more art wife of Caesar. Get thee hence!
My heart is hardened as a lonely crag,
Grey granite lifted to a greyer sky,
And where against its solitary crown
Eternal thunders bellow.
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Eyes popping
in distant stares
I wonder if a soul inhabits the pair
red hair, bombs,guns
and drugged?
The second killer nowhere to be found
but was seen yet disreguarded and most unaware
of the eye witness reporting
Why cover the details?
Something fishy lingers in the air
Something remains unshared
Motives so unclear
but I heard holmes had an obsession
with mind control
The neuroscience student
that spread so much pain and fear
conspiracy surrounds like a think cloud
like Sirhan Sirhan
The scenes shrouded in mystery
yet similiar
Ever heard of the illegal CIA human research program
Rockfeller Commission?
Did you know he had a Neuroscience University?
Fishy indeed
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 11:53 PM UTC
Before the flight takes off
Before our ascent into the skies
Before I'm unplugged from the grid
Before I'm temporarily disconnected
I think about what I'll miss,
If the flight never landed.
I think about the goals unfulfilled
People unmet, sights unseen
Words unsaid, tears uncried
Emotions unshared, pain unfelt
Fights unhad, hands unheld
Stories untold, lives unlived
But most of all,
I think of you.
And feel
Hope.
Mar 26, 2023
Mar 26, 2023 at 2:28 AM UTC
At the moment when I woke up in the morning, the dim light was on to my room and I saw the beautiful things in yours, at that moment I found my soulmate.
They are still there even when I let them go.
The more I think about how beautiful in somethings are,
the more they are always beside me.
The space in my mind always gives them a chance to stay, and yes, they will stay.
The hardest part of letting them go when you couldn't notice them.
They are too far for you to reach because your heart always guides you in the way that will be able for you to pass.
Sometimes you know about it, but you try to ignore it.
I realized that the beautiful things in yours should be followed,
but you are always in silence,
so the voices in my head carry me to things that hard to understand and it makes construction in my human being to love you with great expectations.
"Is this what happened?", I asked myself.
But the loneliness in me answered that something unhappy should be not unshared.
It reshaped them all into my anxiety.
But suddenly, the voices in my head asked me,
"How's your day?"
"Did we see the same most unexpected ways?"
"I wish you loved me as you love the journey of your life,
please stay calm, I was listening to you."
That was a beautiful goodbye.
Sep 9, 2021
Sep 9, 2021 at 1:24 AM UTC
Pained words
Heard at night,
Words rewind
Replay
Repeat, overlay
Become twisted
In the middle of the night.
Pained words
Twisted in the morning
Heard, back turned,
Nothing but empty tears
Pained words
Unshared
Interested and
Harmless.
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 6:54 PM UTC
368
How sick—to wait—in any place—but thine—
I knew last night—when someone tried to twine—
Thinking—perhaps—that I looked tired—or alone—
Or breaking—almost—with unspoken pain—
And I turned—ducal—
That right—was thine—
One port—suffices—for a Brig—like mine—
Ours be the tossing—wild though the sea—
Rather than a Mooring—unshared by thee.
Ours be the Cargo—unladed—here—
Rather than the “spicy isles—”
And thou—not there—
1.6k
Is this
How we
End?
Does our
Relationship
Crumble
in the
Silence
of no
Words?
Do we
let our
Dyad
Breathe its
last breath
alone
in the
Night of
Unspoken
Thoughts?
Do we
Let our
special
Connection
Break apart
in a
Noiseless
Dirge?
Is this
How we
End?
No words-
Only the
Unspoken
Goodbyes
in the
Void of
Unshared
Thoughts
and wants?
Do we
Die
in the
Stillness of
Nothing
Spoken and
Dreams
Broken?
Is
This
How we
End?
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 3:29 AM UTC
Cold, unfold
with just a second
I taught myself to crawl,
Pure, uncured
with just a minute
I learnt from every war,
Tears, unshared
with just an hour
I forgave, but never forgiven,
Found, unsound
with just a day
I appreciated life like rain.
Dec 4, 2011
Dec 4, 2011 at 10:15 AM UTC
As crazy as it might be
This callus is a beautiful thing to me
What's an ego to go unbruised?
What's a heart left unabused?
I didn't get this hardened shell
From concrete, glass, or fires of Hell
Why dwell on the knell you gave my cerebral gel.
I'm under someone else's spell
My palace with this Alice
Unshared with such malice
As what gave me this callus
It should be just now, us
I can say with a sense of pride
I needn't abide by a bride
Whos the great divide on each side
Without intention, will break my stride
I won't be denied
This emotional high tide
This woman which I confide
My side, a guide astride this distance ride
This callus thick of scorned love
Glad you're not what I'm thinking of.
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 2:18 AM UTC
I've spent what feels like a lifetime
trying to ease my way into an English world.
The world of Chaucer and Eliot
and vocabulary only Merriam-Webster knew.
I declared a major.
I don’t know if it really matters anymore,
because when it’s dark
and the campus is empty
all I can feel are the forgotten words floating overhead like stars,
whispering for me to go home,
rectify the official white papers.
Become something else;
become anything but this.
Become who?
Someone who can’t feel anything
but the weight of the leaves
as they crunch under the lilt of their laugh?
Or the one who cries outside their advisor’s office,
because they read something so beautiful
yet still so small,
an unshared treasure?
Why write? Why speak?
I don’t know the answers to either.
Because when you are writing, you are speaking,
and one is almost as good as the other.
But when the words get caught in the back of your throat
and your feet are blocks of concrete,
unable to move
or think
or feel —
Is writing any better?
Will writing save the invisible,
or the insignificant
or the unheard?
The ones who disappear?
I've spent what feels like a lifetime,
trying to force my face into the light
and take a major that isn’t really mine,
dashing off poorly executed poems and flash fiction,
grasping for something that might work.
But in the end it’s nothing
and I am still just as
lost.
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 10:31 AM UTC
The most beautiful smiles come sometimes with tears,
The deepest feelings can come with distance.
The distance between me and you
cannot be measured in miles, or kilometres, hours of travelling, nor in any other unit invented by mankind;
it is measured in feelings and thoughts,
in dreams and longings
in "wish you were here" messages sent at 2:32am from a drunk heart who has forgotten the touch of a kind warm hand
it's measured in unsaid words and unshared laughs ,
in skin that has not been touched and tears that have not been wiped
in mental blocks caused by a picture you can't stop staring at
in mad driven souls screaming the same name endlessly
in hearts beating fast at the sound of a ringing phone,
it is measured in empty arms
in lonely walks at night
in the morning coffee poured in only one cup and tables for one at the restaurant
in cold beds
sleepless nights
in eyes that don't meet
lips becoming dry because of the absence of that special kiss.
It is measured in never coming true wishes.
Such a long, painful, distance between me and you
I will always be able to reach you
only with the fingertips
of my mind.
Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 3:57 AM UTC
Promise me, Maiden. Promise me you care
Promise me his Hand is Well-Strung and Fed
Promise that Dad's Serving Letter is there
And I Promise that my Fealty is set
If these Turning Events will make me Strong
And become the Hunchback allied to you
The Borgia Venom melts; It won't be long
For Sorrow to accept the Better Truth
Riddles apart I am Serious in Theme
About your Magic Craft I can't Compete
Hearts cry with laughter; His Smile justly seen
With Shifting Paradigms he is Complete.
Secrets Unshared, it is better as known
For a Child like me to know if he's grown.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 2:25 AM UTC
Were there things of I scarcely write,
Flesh-bound secrets: my darkest plight.
Unaided heat and aching skin,
A howling instinct come from within.
Such carnal longings... my guiltless crime
But none do know my mind sublime.
Left to myself, I twist and turn,
Frustrated flames in which I burn.
I feel the madness course through my veins.
I pull my hair; frustration reigns.
From my bit lip and furrowed brow,
Aroused, I ask myself "how now?"
In vast bedchambers, I lay alone.
My mind basking in depths unknown.
My toes curl tight and nails dig deep
for nowhere will my wetness seep.
I groan quite softly, left unappeased.
Such torment stands eternal tease.
Just one is tangled in pillows and sheets,
Trembling of wanting and unshared heat.
All over my skin the goose-bumps rise.
Perhaps a beast you'll find in my eyes.
What secrets be there in my physique,
Hidden within an element mystique.
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 12:00 AM UTC
Little girl, your deepest fears have
Nothing on me.
Speak to me of your angst;
It's a miniscule bug to my foot.
Our pathetic misunderstandings
Are egos fighting the memories of
Each other in themselves.
Love is ***** and diamonds.
I love you prematurely when I
Sense spring on your
Skin. It turns me on beyond myself.
So let's just argue,
If that makes you feel as alive as you
Should beneath the hands of my
Unshared attention.
Little girl, your fears have nothing
On me.
I eat insecurity like sushi, wasabi
Memories of idiots telling you
You were never meant to write or
Be written of.
Grab yesterdays with the sticks of
Now-man's hands
And toss them over your shoulder
Like salt after some you spilled.
Your deepest fear is as shallow
As a puddle.
I've shouldered ten times your
Weight, without love.
Watch me now.
You need not set a foot.
I carry you like the sky its stars.
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 8:37 PM UTC
Human hearts are full of;
golden sunflowers
negative space
sunken ships
empty wine glasses
sleepless nights
deceased relatives
cobwebs
empty promises
unshared secrets
regrets
and the fingerprints of those
who
have
broken
them.
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 3:49 PM UTC
there are seven billion puzzles
on this third rotating planet
each one has their troubles
in this world that we inhabit
these seven billion mysteries
hold secrets left unshared
they all have their histories
but their futures make them scared
and these seven billion riddles
leave you speechless, without answers
with pieces missing from their middles
we're unconscious of their cancer
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 12:21 AM UTC
I thought ...
But now I know
And it's crystal clear,
Thoughts are all they'll ever be.
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 3:56 AM UTC
As fast as ocean sweeps the bay
legs of crescent carry away
a sea of wonder won't reject
the sweetest moons you collect
in the palm of your hand soft as peach
slender spine strains to reach
the sun in the sky too far for advice
on speaking to creatures fragile as ice
because the sweetest girl, dear Josephine
shielded by blue instead of green
has a smile painted upon the wall
off the museum fortress she dare not fall
because the places you venture will seem
only to exist before in your dreams
never so lonesome as an unshared bed
cluttered with thoughts of remorse instead
slamming doors in the old broken home
cover the windows high with stones
when travels far and wide resume
remember your home is always the moon.
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 10:45 PM UTC
*walking daily during my diurnal preamble ramble,
my city-street-eyes are well trained to tread careful,
for numerous are the hazards, but fewer the delights
always on the lookout for the itinerant penny,
I skip a heartbeat and a step, when eyeing a
shiny penny brightness lying in a concrete crack
no longer wonder how came it to be discarded,
who would willing part with such man made beauty,
a shiny penny, methinks, omen for a shiny, brighter day.
but let me share.a secret, relying on your honest discretion,
such pennies collected never ever abide for long in my pocket,
honor bound to redistribute direct, lest I deem myself the lesser
for shiny things unshared, become dulled, outcasts, unbecoming,
‘tis in the shining, value lying,
the things we share, shine best, including ourselves…*
Mar 25, 2023
Mar 25, 2023 at 4:17 PM UTC
There were three men
These men were friends
They played, they worked
They spent their lives
But in their age
And pockets empty
The three men agreed
To do something naughty
The three men did
Near succeed too
But a man-like monster
Did stand in their path
Little is known of the three men now
Except for their friendship and plot
But it is said by the young and old
One lies here
One lies there
And one flew away
Their lives unshared
May 3, 2010
May 3, 2010 at 5:14 PM UTC