Category: poetry

Doormat

She knocked on my door like she always did

Ghost like

Nothing to do, why not hang out with a friend

She knows I don’t see her as a friend

We pretend

I tried to quiet my heart

Unable to stop it’s talking when she was near

She just wanted sleep

She could have gone home

She could have done something more productive

Alas, here she is in my bed sleeping

I play the music loud to drown out my heart

She can’t hear either

Me liking her makes no sense

We’d never be compatible

Then I watch her breathe

How peaceful she looks

I watch as she takes a breath

Follow the flow of oxygen

In through her nose

Symmetrical with her lips

Always slightly chapped

Like how she’s always slightly hungry

Down her long tanned neck

Her chest moves with life

Always sighing in sleep

Then she wakes up blinking at me

Caught

She stares into my eyes

Forcing me to fidget

She has an amazing person

I try to remind myself

We’ve been friends for long

Not love, just infatuation

Memories

When we said ‘I love you’

As friends

Next to her gravitational pull

I have pictures

My lips her kneck

My lips her thighs

My lips between her

She’s just a friend

I’m just a doormat with a bed

One that always says ‘Welcome Home’

 

 

How to Feel

I tried to grab her

All I got was air

She left the way I knew she would

What to do?

Now that the light is gone

I’m here empty

Is this how an empty husk feels?

Forced to exist

Having no reason to

Not wanting to

You woke up though

Seize the day, is it?

Your purpose in life is not to die

Even if that is all you are thinking

Mine

I called her my wife

We only knew each other for two short weeks

I probably sensed it then

We were from the same cloth

 

It was rare to see me without her

Her without me

In her car, eating food, walking anywhere

I told everyone that she was mine

 

We never dated

We were just always together

All those lesbians eyeing her could go to hell

I claimed her

 

I lost her though

She told me the truth

I was the only one that had nothing going on

Crying on my bed she tells me of her ex-girlfriend

 

She gave no inkling

Nor any promises

It was just my selfishness

They broke up. This changes nothing

 

She lays on my bed

Hands above her head

An invisible rope around her wrists

She deserves a punishment for straying

 

I tell her that she’s mine. She can never get away.

 

 

 

 

 

Gone

She had wrapped herself for me. I did not open it on the day. When I came to retrieve her next day the ribbon was untied. Someone had stolen my present. Was it more that she ran away?

Blue, Bird

One son named Blue and a daughter named Birdy. I’ll tell my son every day that the world wants to see him cry and sing. He will roar and breathe fire letting the world to see his strength. I’ll tell my daughter that the song blackbird isn’t her life story. She will fly meeting many people to learn from. Absorb the confidence, patience, and strength of our ancestors. Learn more, strive for more and people will see your name and color in a different light. I will tell them this because I never grew my strength, I want for them to find and cultivate theirs. To show the world that wisdom and kindness go together and shouldn’t be considered a weakness. That we never really grow up but are able to slowly make the right decisions. That I love them, that they are mine, and I will always cheer for them. I won’t tell them that they are special, that’s something they need to find out themselves. My dear bluebirds I set you free in a dark and cold world; my light always pointing towards warmth and peace.

The Drowning Child

There once was a child born underwater. Her mother felt it safer and a better way to grow her. She lived her days watching her mother and all else walk over her. From where she stood neither way of living looked better. Her mother was sick and kept the extent of it from her, by the time she found out her worst nightmare was upon her. She knew there’d be people wanting to save her, but she wasn’t so sure if they really wanted to help her. The death of her mother made her pull herself further.  Under the deep blue filter the people looked smaller, were they just ghosts of what was offered?  She questioned if these realms were even for her. So many people arms outstretched above her, still, she just continued to swim down under. As she saw the helping ropes and good blessings she started to realize that she should have never even bothered. Every day is a horror that she cursed these poor people hoping to see the drowning child to touch and comfort. She never learned and didn’t want to, still, she felt bad for the people above her. She should try to live like they, she thought often. She was never able to get past horror. She’s still down under the water filling it with tears and salt hoping to choke her.

Nothing

Nothing. Me, life, dreams, beauty.

Ears, mouth and sighs. Nothing.

No skills, no faith, no time, no feels.

Nothing, wanting more, fear.

Not happy, no one is. Nothing left. Only fear.

Nothing.  Fear. Life, death.  Difference? None. Last step.  Death.

Nothing. Me. Nothing. Death. Freedom.

 

Adulthood

It kind of feels like you’re still five years old and you get thrown into a fire pit

No warning that there is such a thing that could hurt so much

No rules on how to get out of it

Just burning

While in this fire you will meet other people who are on fire

Their fire seems less hot and easier to deal with

You try to learn their ways only to have it backfire

You wonder why no one taught you any of this

What was all that education for?

What were parents, teachers, and professors for?

They stand there soaking wet as you burn

All the while saying how proud they are

“Proud that I’m dying?”

“We went through it. You’ll be ok”

Forget this system of misinformation

 

 

 

Only One

I hate how life feels like

A dog on a treadmill chasing after a steak

Pretending that we all know what we are doing

Judging others only on what we can see

Is it wrong of me to see everyone’s beauty?

Is it wrong of me to see the unnecessary?

I would much rather enjoy life

It must have been manufactured by a lunatic

It doesn’t have to be so hectic

What if you are the type of person that just wants to exist?

Why is that so wrong?

When you try so hard to get somewhere but you really didn’t get anything at all

Am I the only one?