"wiltering" poems
08:59am
i observed
from the corner of the room
coffee warmed lips
and muddled thoughts
the girl who walked in
chatting easily with friends
i watched her decay
into the girl
who walked in
laugh a little too loud
eyes a little too sad
i watched her decay
she walked in alone
a warm smile that didnt match her eyes
no friends
no laughs
she wore long sleeves that day
i watched her decay
into the girl
who walked in
laughter smothered in her own mind
no warm smile
isolated
skinny bones
i watched her decay
until it was too late
she no longer walked in
at all
like wiltering, decaying plants
you mostly catch them
when theyre too late
to save
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 7:13 PM UTC
snapping fingers sound in your eardrums, the overwhellming sense of hands snaking around your hips and feather like touches across your eyelids. the feeling of overwhellming static of feet upon pavement and the waterfountain filled with sewage water and splashing across skin too yellow, filling up with acidic gas, traveling to your eyes. screaming, screaming, screaming, to make the snapping stop. snap, snap, snap. filling up to a point of no going back. red is not a pretty color upon my wiltering yellow skin once made so beautiful and covered in a garden of ignorance made for a womans lips to taint dark enough for anothers to bruise
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 11:18 PM UTC
mirror mirror, i fooled you all
felt you, feel, before your very fall
i wrote your name with upon my skin
let you feel the blood within
and with my tears that fell awry
it wrote your name
against a white brittle sky
i wrote you of fortune, and misery alieved
my own private passion was worn upon my sleeve
i cried a thousand words from my bed
and in their ink they wrote
a story we'd wed
and it wrote how we'd founded a world untrue
it wrote how i was a knight not worthy of you
it wrote a nightime of lessons unlearned
and it wrote a passion of times untermed.
I cired from these tears
as i stabbed at my breast
these words i had wrote
so clearly across my brazen chest
under my left clavicle
under my heart
i wrote in the nightime -
'til death do us part' -
and i picked at the blood upon me
so honest and so true
and every drop
was blessed, with an ounce of you
for no matter no what
for no matter your name
i still would feel your loss
your rebuttal, your shame.
and i cried ink stained tears across my cheeks
and i wandered your loss
not in days, not in weeks.
And still as i write this with digital pen
i wonder if i am me not now, but then
my lovely, my wonder
my wonderous show
of how you showed me love so
long ago.
I sit with a pen and i wonder what to write
my ink blots are messy
and such a distaneful fright
that even i, as a woman
might seek light from the night.
I whispher sweet nothings to myself
as i cry with a teardrop so selfish, so rare,
and i mean as tho i cry, from a world, so selfish, so rare.
My nothing, my everything
my world end in sight
i long for you, play for you
each and every night.
Though i know you have left me
half starved, beaten and cold,
you have left my darling with a wiltering soul.
All i did was try to love you
that was never enough
and what might it take for you
to feel
my love?
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 4:57 PM UTC
My emotions are like a flower shop
You admire the beauty of the flowers up front
That you hardly notice the wiltering ones at the back
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 3:55 PM UTC
Dont complain
Of a wiltering garden
Full of weeds
If you never tended to
Or watered the seeds
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 2:40 AM UTC