Here I sit,
trying to write ‘You’ out of my system….
Again.
It isn’t working,
it never does.I push, I cover, I disguise…
I cloud ‘You’ with the presence of others.
All useless endeavors.‘You’ have inked me,
the heart of me…
indelibly.Thoughts of ‘You ‘
permeate
my existence.
Emotions…
15 i want to love you like
rain lilts to pavements;
be still.
tears are sorrow’s afterbirth
eaten. desist. we are
microcosmic and
you are as much;
but still —
silence sits aware.
beware thick breaths
and the heaviness
of humid things. moist
lacks empathy; judge
yet still
night encumbers black.
the discomfort of silence
comes from fear —
crouching the raw vulnerable
pressed against
the crushing weight
of words unsaid.
ever; still.
My tortured love we cannot do without-
Hemlock leaves
and the wind’s
loquacious tease
to fill up around our silence
and the chickadee
wont relieve
his chipper songs from
fragrant trees.We cannot be
comfortably alone
& that unsettles me.
Silk ribbon leaflets
inspired my heart at an…
17 The myth is dead
A young man runs his head
by touchscreen dreams
digital seams,
fantasies of unmarked bills, ‘cause
he wouldn’t know how to Google
the nearest rolling hills
tree huggers and potheads
get high and tap their phones,
lovers call themselves Romeo and Juliet
not killed by unlucky stars
but by credit card debt,
(Source: johnnypitt)
72 What if there’s no light at the end of the tunnel?
Then I should call it the world and build my nest.
What if you wake one day to find that God doesn’t love you?
Then we should part, like the sea, only to meet again.
What if everything you’ve built up doesn’t make a home?
Then I shall find the voice that settles me.
What if you’re caught not knowing the difference between blood and bone?
Then I will live, never again being afraid of the pain.
What if you wanted to believe, to believe you could be happy?
Then I’ll know that if I search, I will find it.
What if you wanted to be free, free from these earthly trappings?
Then there will be no binds that define me.
What if you just keep swimming upstream?
Then I will find my way back home to her.
What if you’re just living a dream?
Then I’ll dare to dream bigger, and raise the curve.
What if her ebb knew your flow?
Then synchronicity would taste so sweet.
What if there weren’t any inches left to grow?
Then define me by my grip, not what I cannot reach.
I’ve spent all winter waiting for this spring.
I say, gather your strength and bathe in the rain.
I’ve kept every river from spilling out of these veins.
I say, open your floodgates all the same.
I’ve been waiting for years for what you’ve come to bring.
I’ve been shedding my skin and dreading this day.
This ebb and flow won’t be the same.
Let the stars forever guide us.
No, it won’t be the same…
Let our words stand head above silence.
No, no, it can’t be the same…
Let our failures teach lessons, timeless.
Your ebb and my flow won’t be the same.
Let us divide these lands, poetic manifest.
____________________
A collaboration between:
Mike @ PoeticallyProfound [standard] and
Matt @ RaiseTheCurve [italics]
52 howdoyousolveaproblemlikemalia:
I wish I was a snake,
I want to shed off this skin.
I go home and I am a tourist,
I’ve become a stranger
to the body
I’ve grown up in.
I want to be like God,
I wish I didn’t have to exist.
I fall in love with distant cities
and they always fall in love with me.
One day I am going to OD
51 This skin is mine
to hide behind
and never to escape.I cannot breathe;
my sword’s unsheathed
to fight these shadow shapes.For when my heart
was torn apart,
I learned how words can slice;This flesh is mine
to hide behind,
and now I pay the price.
I love you roughly;
everything is altered
after I’ve had my way;
life gets messy, as do I —
something about dishevelment
is so easy on the eyessoon I’ll have you memorized
but meanwhile I’ll keep my cues
bent over in your corner—
I’d never pass up a chance
to mark how much…
43 fingers pressed, hard, on
a forgotten curve —
my own.
no one dared
to have their hands
stained with my imperfection.
no one. i’m still not
used to it, but
i should be..
So much pain but so beautiful.
manicured light
trimmed in shades
and shadows, french
romanticisms float
poetic in scattered reflections
amidst dead thoughts,
shed cold
and deciduous.
