Poetry Burns

Archive for December, 2012|Monthly archive page

Content.

In Uncategorized on December 4, 2012 at 3:19 am

I can’t write when I’m happy – I’ve decided.

I am walking on clouds, or is my head floating above them?
There is nothing to complain about, essentially.

Without any angst, the words fall flat.

Uninspiring.

Piss me off!

Then maybe I can write something good again.

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Frail

In Disenchantment. on December 4, 2012 at 3:03 am

In my memory you’re blurry around the edges.

Your features are softened by the affection that is now just shadows.

Seeing you, it’s not how I remember.

You’re frail.

What happened to you?

Is it you or my memory of you that time has been so cruel to?

I hope I never forget the feeling I had when I turned to you.

Your palm on my thigh, making me cringe.

“What was I thinking, coming here?” I ask myself.

I have to say my peace, then I can leave satisfied.

Whatever you said placated me, I am sure of myself now.

Everything in this life happens for a reason.

Chosing the path I followed, just got me to where I am today.

I am happy writing about your memory.

Content knowing that there will be no future with you.

I hope that you can be as fulfilled as I am one day.

In the past we’ve hurt eachother.

It’s time to grow up.

Maybe one day we will pass on the street, you pushing a stroller and me holding the hand of the one I love.

We can smile and wave, knowing we got where we are with eachother’s help.

Made You Look

In Disenchantment. on December 4, 2012 at 2:17 am

“I liked your poem, it moved me”
Didn’t know you could even feel.
Those words made it all so clear, what I needed all along.
To know that you could taste even a fraction of my spite.
Makes it worthwhile to know,
I must have done something right.

Testing myself.
I passed, you failed.
It’s justification that I’ve waited years to feel.
I can focus on what’s tangible to me.
Now you’re just a ghost; a memory.

Watch me as I leave your life.
“Stop blowing up my phone,” I laugh as I grab the doorknob.
When I get to my car there’s already a text,
“I’ll never stop”

It’s cute, I say.
It’s flattering to know you still want me.
This life I’ve built for myself is too valuable to throw away for you.
I always suspected it, now I know it’s the truth.