Post by xunpredictablel on Jan 24, 2012 11:12:17 GMT -5
hopefully this will be more than just a series of poems.
1. the first silence
.
i want to drink up every bit of
liquor at the foot of your bed
telling you stories of world war
cronies hiding in my head.
gulping cold coffee the next morning
to get rid of headaches and regrets
leaning in to your curly hair just to tell you
i had to go.
reaching out in syllables to whisper
reasons why i couldn’t stay
though i loved you so much
i just couldn’t find a reason to stay.
rather, there were zillions
like how the world wars dissipated
and hid under white blankets and rugs so
i couldn’t see them anymore
but the exhaustion of miles just
wrenched my heart and ripped it
from the wires holding it up.
gulping gallons of cold coffee
because i don’t care enough to
put it in microwaves and hot lava
hardwood floors around the house.
listening to sad music with some kinda beat
so maybe i can crawl out of bed
hair like the ring
and sit at the foot of it
like i used to
when you gave me the sun.
/
/
2. stolen glasses
.
and then there are the cigarettes that
stain fingertips
ashtrays with remnants of your cigars
lingering scents of your clothes.
i never knew you but i can see you
everywhere, by the grill where the sleeping
bag lies. tapping your feet as if
your time is wasted. launching into go-
mode as soon as your cigarette
drips from life.
all that’s left are the ashes.
your hands are always so busy
running around in circles and
there is no time for a blonde
little girl with giant
blue eyes looking up at you like
you are the hole that she has
been searching for her whole life.
there is no time for a blonde
baby girl with shaking fingers
holding cancer sticks because she
doesn’t know what else to do.
lays in sunlit beds that shake like earthquakes
when you pass. lonely, lingering underneath
the warm sheets so she doesn’t have to
wake, to see you typing away at computer
screens and running away in
sneaker-shoe heart streaks.
when you can leave a wake of laughter and
desire in your path,
crumble into her arms and let yourself
go for once, let yourself
love and not think it is a waste.
reach into the blankets and pull her
from her coma sepulcher, comfortable
sleeping death. hold her for an instant
let the fire revitalize
and then let her drop
watch in slow-mo
like she is a doll
porcelain shatters
red tear drop questions
pop from eyes and
explode so that it rains for a moment.
and then you run again
frightened of the way her
voice is in the wind, trembling.
a siren’s lost wanderlust surrounding the red
dew drops on the
lava hardwood floors.
1. the first silence
.
i want to drink up every bit of
liquor at the foot of your bed
telling you stories of world war
cronies hiding in my head.
gulping cold coffee the next morning
to get rid of headaches and regrets
leaning in to your curly hair just to tell you
i had to go.
reaching out in syllables to whisper
reasons why i couldn’t stay
though i loved you so much
i just couldn’t find a reason to stay.
rather, there were zillions
like how the world wars dissipated
and hid under white blankets and rugs so
i couldn’t see them anymore
but the exhaustion of miles just
wrenched my heart and ripped it
from the wires holding it up.
gulping gallons of cold coffee
because i don’t care enough to
put it in microwaves and hot lava
hardwood floors around the house.
listening to sad music with some kinda beat
so maybe i can crawl out of bed
hair like the ring
and sit at the foot of it
like i used to
when you gave me the sun.
/
/
2. stolen glasses
.
and then there are the cigarettes that
stain fingertips
ashtrays with remnants of your cigars
lingering scents of your clothes.
i never knew you but i can see you
everywhere, by the grill where the sleeping
bag lies. tapping your feet as if
your time is wasted. launching into go-
mode as soon as your cigarette
drips from life.
all that’s left are the ashes.
your hands are always so busy
running around in circles and
there is no time for a blonde
little girl with giant
blue eyes looking up at you like
you are the hole that she has
been searching for her whole life.
there is no time for a blonde
baby girl with shaking fingers
holding cancer sticks because she
doesn’t know what else to do.
lays in sunlit beds that shake like earthquakes
when you pass. lonely, lingering underneath
the warm sheets so she doesn’t have to
wake, to see you typing away at computer
screens and running away in
sneaker-shoe heart streaks.
when you can leave a wake of laughter and
desire in your path,
crumble into her arms and let yourself
go for once, let yourself
love and not think it is a waste.
reach into the blankets and pull her
from her coma sepulcher, comfortable
sleeping death. hold her for an instant
let the fire revitalize
and then let her drop
watch in slow-mo
like she is a doll
porcelain shatters
red tear drop questions
pop from eyes and
explode so that it rains for a moment.
and then you run again
frightened of the way her
voice is in the wind, trembling.
a siren’s lost wanderlust surrounding the red
dew drops on the
lava hardwood floors.