"unthought" poems
(Part 1: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/738250/almond-eyes/)
Come spring, she leaped across the grassy dune.
In her ageing almond eyes, fresh wisdom strewn.
Unthought of now- he who had once been her all.
In a forbidden forest, a smiling lean buck stood tall.
Come summer, standing afar she did quietly spy;
Studying his ways from the curious corner of her eye-
How chilled he liked his water, how green his grass…
A polite little nod if ever he happened to pass.
Come monsoon, away she cast the lessons of the past.
Throughout their graze, on him her gaze.
Playful fights they feign; adorable moments in the rain.
She’d fallen tame; her clumsy hooves not to blame.
Come winter, cold truths in the icy winds blew her way.
Her lean, smiling buck wasn’t really hers per se.
He smiled much the same at myriad doe and antelope,
Yet, in her shivering heart flickered the scantiest of hope.
Come fall, she finally forsake her futile trail.
Turned her back with a swish of her bushy tail.
Beaming with sheer joy, she hummed a halcyon tune twice over.
For bucks would come and bucks would go, but the river’d go on forever.
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 3:41 PM UTC
A boneless,soft,small flesh,
Most beloved to God,
A truthful tongue,
Most hateful to Him,
A lying tongue.
It is the sharpest thing on Earth,
Can be deadly,
Pierces deeper than the spear,
Leaving scars forever.
It is the most difficult thing to control,
Think before you leap.
Like a ferocious lion on the loose,
It will wound someone,
So put it on a leash,
Reap its fruits.
The most powerful and dangerous weapon,
Explodes with expletives,
Lucid and sweet, a lullaby,
Can take you to great heights,
Bitter,vulgar and full of deceits,
A heart is wrung,
From a pedestal you fall to doom,
It is the taste of your kind and tender heart,
Pours speeches full of grace,
A medicine that heals,
A balm that soothes.
An evil heart,
That spits fire and crushes spirits.
Lastly it is the companion of the lips,
Seal and zip the lips so no unthought words escape,
Imprison the tongue with the teeth,
Lest venom pours out,
To break strong bonds, and powerful relationships
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 7:32 AM UTC
I stood in line
to be weighed
in the bathroom
of the nursing home
Anne crutched herself
behind me
you haven't
got a chance in hell
of winning
that chocolate bar Kid
she said
I've seen more meat
on a butcher's pencil
stuck behind his ear
might win
I said
might fly
she said
the kid in front of me
got on
the green metal scales
and the nun
moved the weight
along the top
not you Malcolm
she said
the kid got off sulkily
I got on the scales
and the nun
moved the weight
I looked at her
black and white
headdress
her pinched features
not you Benny
she said
I got off
and walked away
Anne awkwardly
got on the scales
holding herself
on her one leg
the stump
of the other
hanging there
best so far Anne
the nun said
told you Kid
you didn't
have a chance
guess not
I said
as she crutched herself
along side of me
not to worry
if I get the choco bar
I’ll give you
a quarter for being
a good friend
no other
in this **** hole
gets a look in
we went along
to our rooms
come in Kid
she said
I hesitated
come in
I want to
ask you something
I stood swaying
uncertain
what if
one of the nuns
comes along?
what if I don't give you
quarter of the choc bar?
she said
I followed her in
to the girls dorm
no one else
was there
just she and me
she closed the door
with her backside
right Kid
I want you
to do me
a favour
favour?
I said
sensing uncertainty
hit my gut
yes I want you
to sneak along
to the kitchen tonight
and liberate
some biscuits
liberate?
I said
biscuits?
yes you know
what biscuits are
don't you
those hard things
with cream in the middle
or chocolate
on one side
I know what biscuits are
I said
but what do you mean
liberate?
take some
from the big tin
they have
on the shelf
in larder
take?
I said
you mean steal?
steal
take
liberate
whatever word
you want
to use Kid
what if I get caught?
don't get caught
but what if I do?
Anne sighed
sat on the edge
of her bed
I thought you
were someone
I could rely on Kid
not some cowardly custard
yellow belly
I looked
at her leg stump
sticking out
the other leg
reached to the floor
if you're really good
I’ll let you touch
my stump
she said
no need
I said
I'll try tonight
sneak down
after lights out
good Kid
she said
she took my right hand
and lay it
on the stump
and held it there
it felt warm
and soft
she let my hand go
good huh?
wish the rest
was there
she said
off you go
and don't get caught
I nodded
and backed out
of the room
seeing her cover
the stump
with her dress
and smile
see you
I said
you bet
she said
I walked away
thinking
of the big steal
of biscuits
unthought through
by my 10 year old brain
as yet.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 12:49 PM UTC
Oh! pleasant exercise of hope and joy!
For mighty were the auxiliars which then stood
Upon our side, we who were strong in love!
Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,
But to be young was very heaven!—Oh! times,
In which the meagre, stale, forbidding ways
Of custom, law, and statute, took at once
The attraction of a country in romance!
When Reason seemed the most to assert her rights,
When most intent on making of herself
A prime Enchantress—to assist the work
Which then was going forward in her name!
Not favoured spots alone, but the whole earth,
The beauty wore of promise, that which sets
(As at some moment might not be unfelt
Among the bowers of paradise itself )
The budding rose above the rose full blown.
What temper at the prospect did not wake
To happiness unthought of? The inert
Were roused, and lively natures rapt away!
They who had fed their childhood upon dreams,
The playfellows of fancy, who had made
All powers of swiftness, subtilty, and strength
Their ministers,—who in lordly wise had stirred
Among the grandest objects of the sense,
And dealt with whatsoever they found there
As if they had within some lurking right
To wield it;—they, too, who, of gentle mood,
Had watched all gentle motions, and to these
Had fitted their own thoughts, schemers more wild,
And in the region of their peaceful selves;—
Now was it that both found, the meek and lofty
Did both find, helpers to their heart’s desire,
And stuff at hand, plastic as they could wish;
Wcre called upon to exercise their skill,
Not in Utopia, subterranean fields,
Or some secreted island, Heaven knows where!
But in the very world, which is the world
Of all of us,—the place where in the end
We find our happiness, or not at all!
2.9k
I'm in the here&now;
or on a ***** street busy with indifference
daylight falls over
like an iron curtain
and my caged dreams
suddenly claim
their seed innocence
I thought I met you
on unpredictable roads under my skin,
in the splitting of one second into another,
in the empty spaces of the atoms,
in the breath of the night
into the unthought known
or some promise, untaught
I’m holding here
my exhausted smile
me and a flower lady
holding unwittingly
a water lily
redeemed
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 11:31 AM UTC
.
*One day at a time
swings the pendulum;
only love awakens senses
too ephemeral to be restrained,
like the magic of a phonograph stylus
in a vintage vinyl groove
and the sensual touch
of skin so new
It's not easy to watch
a flock flying away
in the distance,
seeing the expanse beyond
reach of a wandering mind;
heed distracted
by the slow sway
of the treetops hypnotic careen
Doves dive on feathered canter,
silent as the winged wind,
broke free from the gravity
befallen the weight
of the world
Looking up wondering
beyond the sky,
the passing clouds
crawl across
palliating the dusk hazed horizon
Synchronicity transcends across
an immeasurably deep river chasm,
into a wordless abyss
ensconced unthought
between
here and there
Silent silhouettes
glide across
the valley void below,
wings to the sky
and, if you listen to a moment breathe,
you can hear
the silent peace .............
you can feel the prevailing wind's direction
blowing through your soul*
Jesse Stillwater
December 2017
Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 2:40 PM UTC
****** **** such a tragedy.
Between kin bloodlines abominations of unrighteous unity.
Speak loud and spare not, victims stop keeping it hidden.
A sin so scandalous so forbidden.
This secret is the reason for some insane things.
Punishment on our Nation it brings.
Stop the transgress it’s time to progress
to detest the ugliness of ******
The sin of ****** put out from us such wickedness
Crimes within the family.
Outcry why oh God why.
Emotions cry spirits die.
Survival with scars somehow.
Child kept secrets at least for now.
Innocent sweet nectar just taken.
Abused shattered then forsaken.
Inwardly hating the humiliation.
Lingering curse. Bound to be rehearsed.
A bloodline search, unthought-of curse our generation.
How can we cleanse this crime from our nation.
Child **** such outrage of wickedness.
Such a corruptible trespass.
Men lusting after little boys. Using them as ****** toys.
Outcry iniquity. Loss of innocent purity.
Killers of purity, thieves,
bandits doings malicious things in secrecy.
Abused children in mind body and spirit.
Hear their voices silently cry who’s close enough to hear it.
Legal laws. Often with flaws
Putting children in harms way.
Hard to prove it allowing perpetrators often to stay.
Courts judicial systems poor outcome.
Criminals getting counseling with their worst still to be done
It’s a unhealed spiritual condition.
Warriors do our best to rid ourselves of this affliction.
Wrongful unthinkable vexation.
Impure affections of ****** connection.
Between the bloodlines.
Children with Children sexually learned crimes.
Scares of a lifetime.
People wake up let us not be blind.
I beg you I pray.
Let’s do more to protect our children in any way.
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 2:15 PM UTC
butterflies love the blood,
tumbling about in bellies,
whisk it away, the way we pray,
a bird being carried by a breeze,
lifted essence, manifested,
heart shade, finally, at ease,
signal came through,
translated to
sharpened claws,
unclenched jaws -
unthought it all while sober -
*you came as ocean, as breeze,
as birds, as leaves,
as hues and blues,
sunshines and moons,
and you left as you pleased,
opened my mouth wide to cry for you,
praise you,
love you, raise you above
what I've said in silence,
unbreak the trust I betrayed in private,
you came as hearts, as people I've known,
and stories never told, as whispers,
as hugs, and as kisses,
as melodies, repeatedly on my brain, as so,
absent of you,
I came to know you:*
butterflies love the blood,
dying slowly from the greed,
whisk it away, the way I pray,
would ask for your forgiveness,
but I know there is no need,
I feel you in the leaps
of knowing when to regret,
and when to let it be,
summon the tides stronger
aside dying suns, each day,
each night I pray for you to call upon me,
like you did when I was your favourite color,
pray for you to love the me now, and be sure of no other,
so if I adjust the pitch,
tune the sounds to form around
your wisdom, or pretty eyes,
maybe the melody will reach you again,
if not for love,
lost at sea,
then for truth,
and maybe friends we'll be,
no longer eclipsed by rumors
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 4:13 PM UTC
The poet tries
with her words
to create something new
something hitherto unconsidered,
unthought, unspoken
She rakes the dirt for language
that is inimitable and rare
Fighting her way out of
prosaic platitudes
Searching deliriously for
a sharp-edged jolt of ingenuity
that will
awaken and inflame
In this great pursuit of something
clever
to say,
she overcompensates,
birthing a few stanzas
of exaggerated hogwash that inspires
more dismay than satisfaction
Out the window
her poem goes
A little crumpled ball of melodrama
and stale cliché
Then the poet sits in silence
smoldering with displeasure
wanting nothing more than
to finally write something that
works
It is when, radiant with disappointment,
she relinquishes her fantasy of excellence
that the true
poem begins
With rosy wings and
eyes like screaming bullets
it sails forth to proclaim
to declare
to profess without apology
or contrition
the wildest truths of her
soul
It is out of this realm of
deflation and defeat that
true originality is bred
Just a murmur at first, just a glint,
but listen, listen as
it swells into an exquisite roar
and watch,
watch as it rises from
the decay of the past
to flare
in a new light
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 8:36 AM UTC
silence was improvising in my eyes
in this tender fog between one moment
and this moment
and I could see the old love approaching
to invade me
to intoxicate me
with its hypnotic violence
this love like a fossilized wood in their gaze
came to visit me
again
with so many faces
so many whispers
it was as if angels had descended
on the barren land and
with their unthought hands
were tenderly carressing
the old bones unsung
what else could have I done
than
open my eyes and dream
the palimpsest of forgotten dreams
forged in the greatest intensity
of all the fleeting moments
in which
they blinked
(I need to shelter my heart from
the silence of decaying leaves
from the violence of life destroying
itself)
Nov 30, 2022
Nov 30, 2022 at 7:28 AM UTC
Not long ago, the writer of these lines,
In the mad pride of intellectuality,
Maintained “the power of words”—denied that ever
A thought arose within the human brain
Beyond the utterance of the human tongue:
And now, as if in mockery of that boast,
Two words—two foreign soft dissyllables—
Italian tones, made only to be murmured
By angels dreaming in the moonlit “dew
That hangs like chains of pearl on Hermon hill,”—
Have stirred from out the abysses of his heart,
Unthought-like thoughts that are the souls of thought,
Richer, far wilder, far diviner visions
Than even the seraph harper, Israfel,
(Who has “the sweetest voice of all God’s creatures,”)
Could hope to utter. And I! my spells are broken.
The pen falls powerless from my shivering hand.
With thy dear name as text, though hidden by thee,
I cannot write—I cannot speak or think—
Alas, I cannot feel; for ’tis not feeling,
This standing motionless upon the golden
Threshold of the wide-open gate of dreams,
Gazing, entranced, adown the gorgeous vista,
And thrilling as I see, upon the right,
Upon the left, and all the way along,
Amid empurpled vapors, far away
To where the prospect terminates—thee only!
1.7k
A raging river
of conscious thoughts
breaks my minds dam
rushing
Love
(pain)
AllThoseDaysGoneBy
flooding
all I am
sweeping away
the present
pouring me into
the vast ocean
of all my
unthought thoughts
still to come
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 6:01 PM UTC
A desk covered in art
witty and weird.
A play for which I've a part
minor and mundane.
A car that I cannot drive
broken and bruised.
A flood that I can't survive
sinking and soothing.
A hairstyle I can't percieve
longish and loopy.
A dress sense copied by many
perfect and quiet.
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 8:38 PM UTC
Deep in my bones
In the webs of my soul
Dwells an experience of something much bigger
Hidden rhythm trickling through the flood of love's eyes
My heart melts as realizations collide
Spiraling through creative mind substance
Harmonious abundance
The back of my head
The seek in my bead
My dreams unfolding as we dance with the dead
Feeling the wait of heartache and dreams fade
The seems break
Drowning in words unthought
Language of the mind untaught
Heart strings pulled by moon beams
Seal the reams of each page
Writing away each wage
Are we awakened by our purpose?
Is it love that assures us?
Tip toeing through plastic gardens as not to awaken the true self
Searching the ground for what we know we put on the highest shelf
Maybe it was to keep it sacred
Perhaps by falling into falling out we chose to ignore our highest selves
Shocked by our desire to understand the depths of hell
As we fell attachments released and real ceased from our grasp
Choosing to relinquish with deadly sap
Stuck in this head throb our heart knows and time clocks us out from this doubt
We let it go
We let it go
We let it go
Oct 19, 2012
Oct 19, 2012 at 4:27 AM UTC
Under the weight of sins all collective
Seeking from guilts deep,refuge divine
Forsaking daily conscientious angels hearty,
Rushed in multitudes I to Gods Almighty
On mountains highest and valleys deepest,
Heeding not,his part am I,in me He is and
I but am a pilgrim, from death to birth last,
Every instant, in moments each till eternity
Bonded divine,here or there,in time and space.
Rendered incapable were they all,mute
Under the burden heavy of my sins unthought,
Watching impassive as the mountains fell
The rivers rose,very earth in fury collapsed
Swallowing,burying my sins for a beginning anew.
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 5:19 PM UTC
I’ve always meant to sit by the sea and write you a letter
I would acknowledge the setting
(maybe of the sun and the tables outside a restaurant)
I would try to capture the sun-soaked skin and those visionary
sparkles of the sea
Which exist only between blinks
I would try to capture them for you.
I know I'll never send this, there is
No coffee cup beside me; no seagulls
are chirping within my reach
The only saltwater streams down my cheeks
Without the idyllic canvas is it worth anything?
All love gives me now is
the stabbing and wrenching of my heart.
I wrote a letter last year
after tossing and turning.
It's much too late to send
Dead ink on a Christmas card months past its
expiration date
never left the box in my shelf
You never broke your promises, you never kept them either
So what example was I left to follow?
I wonder if I would recognize you
through a stethoscope.
Did I lie?
If I cannot remember I don’t expect you to.
I wonder if your mind ever wanders far enough
(mid-song, mid-tossing and -turning)
to reach me
to write me a letter
Another that you’ll never send
...or perhaps they are all unwritten
even worse; unthought
I wonder if you would recognize me
through a stethoscope.
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 3:08 PM UTC
It was a woodcut in our high school history text, Unit 4
Beginnings of the Modern World, that so disturbed,
from the Nuremburg Chronicles depicting the burning of the
Jews, flat perspective,
faces of the victims among flames, in no particular agony, not
especially Jewish,
during the Black Death 1/3 of Europe died 1347-1351 alone.
Although
you die together you die alone.
Earlier that week, I had attended our 6th grade's performance of Fiddler on the Roof, thinking
Coltrane should have recorded Matchmaker as a bookend to
My Favorite Things
but as the play darkened
with the town's absorption into the diaspora, democracy
yet unthought of and rule of law a fig leaf for authority
Jasper, who played Zero Mostel, delivered his line well to
the effect
you're just doing your jobs while wrecking our lives.
Anyway, nothing like that is happening here, is it?
The gardener planting tomatoes, the gravedigger finding skulls,
there is so much life a little death won't matter.
Jasper
was a beautiful ham,
big as Zero.
A friend posed
this question: must all states be melting pots like the United States?
I said yes
not because they should but since
it's inevitable. Let labor flow like capital!
America was the last word of the play and brought a tear of pride
to my eye.
Immigration, exasperating argument re the Other.
How many's more than enough? 9 billion, a rational,
real number that exceeds or we're convinced
is within the carrying capacity of the planet.
Climate change is the new Black Death.
I like the Amerindian body type and face mixed in with the
European, African.
The irrepressible economy rolls out reams of logs, ores of
elements, bags of ice, fields of rice.
Embargo. The moon stares, bare, full of interstellar space.
Better a cold shoulder than a visit from our military.
The crazy Nazis must have felt themselves extraordinarily
compassionate toward the mother, earth, the goddess,
history, or some such abstraction and, thus, acted on a
fraction of all they did not know.
Selfless soldiers just doing their jobs guarding the border or,
on the other hand, collecting ****** for the burning of the Jews.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 6:58 AM UTC
Flattered heart of the unthought
Flattened cases await departure
A mount of unused garbage
Tragedy in fuelled ignitions
Digging slowly to make sense of the mess
Accumulation of desire in haste
A hoard of heaped cotton and canvas
Looped in discourse of cages
A sleep to mask the heated moment
After a dawn the mountain blurs
Impending progression,dashing hopes
Receding rope, a destined pit
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 5:46 PM UTC
Until I lose my voice
and no one listens
the unsaid words of love
will accumulate
inside me,
and will appear on my face
like the flashes
from an electronic sign
whose bulbs have all blown
except for two or three
intermittently appearing
like a code
that no one but you
understands.
Until I lose my mind
with no one's help
the unthought thoughts
will accumulate
and be sacrificed
like my greatgrandfather,
an Isaac who wasn't spared.
And I, an Isaac who was,
was born under the sign of the ram,
to be sacrificed in other ways.
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 6:49 PM UTC
this is an excerpt from a very long, (shudder) private poem about a dinner party with visiting friends, up from Memphis to celebrate their birthday in NYC.
Unplanned, I gave them all gifts without hesitation from an unusual collection of mine that they were admiring.
When questioning my unexpected generosity, by way of explanation, I jokingly said
"there is no room in my casket."
~
*sweetly thanked for the unexpected gift,
the poet replies comically,
"there is no more room in his casket",
for even these, small trifles
later in the quietude of
late night contemplation,
comes a greater realization,
the truth was unseen
in his offhanded remark,
now, gives him pause and cause
to capture a greater revelation
there is insufficient room indeed,
for accompanying the poet on his finale,
an uncharted encore voyage akin to
Tennyson's poem of
the famed voyage of Ulysses -
thoughts yet unthought,
a few thousand poems,
that time forbade completion,
all must yet reside beside and inside his soul,
timed-released escapees
from the real yet artificial limits of
physical deterioration
these,
be his boon companions in arms,
his banded-brothered company,
purposed for inspiration,
his lasting re-actualization
so plentiful, indeed,
there be no room in the casket,
for the merely beloved,
beautiful physical objets d'art,
they too must give way
to the natural law of
"unto dust returned"
but poetry*
never dies
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 2:42 PM UTC
maturely premature thoughts preexist inside
waiting to explode and marvel
at the symmetry of our meetings,
asymmetrical
incongruities.
unthought veils bearing everything
mysterious. magic rarely happens
when eyes open slowly for the
first time. life hatefully
spiteful, vengefully
insipid, unknowing
uncaring,
who cares, time
lost,
repent,
recant,
re-imagined revisions,
systems breaking human
conditions, connections. see
past the humanity,
inanity and insanity are deliberate
malfunctions- there is beauty
inside every action, movement, and
word.
torrents of half thought forms cascade
over fickle answers,
responses to help your quest. yet
in the same ****** breath you say
‘you’ve thought too much;
imagined
enough-
excuses are all
you need’ while
i cry to you in silence,
you’re missing the beat, the
form, the aspect and motivation
of the intellect that you
so silently yearn
for in your verbal
abuses.
this will only get you so far before
you see as i see
or not at all
Jun 18, 2010
Jun 18, 2010 at 3:45 PM UTC
I can feel the tension even through the ***** speckled glass seperating us.
Unsolved questions and answers linger in the lane between us; captivating and enthralling us.
It's funny how we knew each other so well.
Then suddenly, we knew nothing.
Maybe you hated me or maybe I just assumed without ever taking you into consideration.
Either way, it's a moot point now.
We stare at each other like deer caught in headlights; scared to look away.
It seems like an eternity has passed when I finally start to react.
That's also when I become aware of the tear rolling down my cheek.
My lips start to form themselves around your name and all too suddenly the light turns a murky green, signaling the lonely drivers and passengers to drive off; to move on.
As we leave each other, my mouth forms a semi-smile hoping for forgiveness; hoping for one in return.
It's too late.
You're gone now.
Just another car in a lane driving off; driving away from me.
Maybe it's for the best.
Perhaps there was things left unspoken and unthought of.
I guess now we'll never know.
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 8:32 PM UTC
How do I thank the one
to whom I owe my entire existence?
From the smile I share, to my wavy brown hair,
to the blood flowing through my veins
To thank her fully I think I'd need
each one of a beach's grains of sand--
one for every bit of love she's shared
lifting my soul from frequent despair.
Though that still wouldn't be enough
I'd then need every star in every galaxy
to then shed light on her beauty
and even then they'd be a pale analogy
So I call on the oceans and the seas,
who have separated many, for generations,
on how to cope with the distance
and how others survived such separation.
When we're apart you must feel idle,
alone, and often unthought of--
but truly you're a lifeline, that to me is vital;
therefore, never discount your worth for a second.
So I apologize for the sleepless nights,
spent waiting for me to come home and those spent worrying,
and sorry for leaving your nest so suddenly,
even though you'd wished you could stop my flying.
But I thank you, for never thinking ill of me,
and for nurturing who I turned out to be,
and for unconditional love, though I'm unworthy,
and most of all, for being my mother, and ever so motherly
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 1:03 AM UTC
When the day blooms and the light streams
Through the handcarved cracks
Of consciousness it inspires infinity.
The boundless light and undiscovered
Colours of the morning draw even
The birds to serenading, for the
First time, and for the hundredth.
I feel as if I am breathing sunlight.
As if I could raise my hand and weave
The wisps of clouds between my fingertips,
As simply as I lie here on the ground.
It is easier to dream when the sun shines.
At times like this I like to live in daydreams.
I like to dream myself into possibilities
As yet unsubstantial, even previously
Unthought of. I like to be unmade, unwoken,
Confidently lost amongst the scenes of
My mind's creation.
In the labyrinth I can find confusions,
Emotions, revelations unexpected.
But I always find hope.
A hope that keeps the sun shining.
And when days grow dull and wintry,
Spring blooms behind my eyes
As daisy petals and puppy ears
Melt through the rusted lock of memory.
To place me barefoot in the grass
On an immortal sunny day.
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 9:14 PM UTC
Why do I feel like this?
You used words like swords for years.
I took the pain because I cared.
Then you deserted me in search of greed.
I found myself better without you.
I smiled more
I laughed more freely
I didn’t look in the mirror for flaws
I didn’t think about how to please you
I didn’t think about you at all.
then you walked back into my life
I felt insecure
I felt used
I felt angry
My list of dislike had grown to levels unthought of.
Yet I want to salvage the pieces like a shattered vase.
Super glue those misshapen shards together
like some pale shade of what was,
to save something better left broken.
Your smile is ice shards in my heart.
Your touch like electric shocks on my skin.
Your eyes like summer skies gone by.
Your words like razor blades.
Your kiss like poison.
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 1:04 AM UTC