Strung

You play your game

from the other side of the wire

pushing every button, 

tying every heart-string into knots. 

Like a scheme you've crafted so carefully

you lure me back into the snares

knowing I'm not strong enough to deny you, 

or smart enough to let  you go. 

You leave me shamed, 

to nurse a heart that has betrayed me

once again. You show no remorse

as you look at me with eyes that seem so safe. 

We both know this won't be the last time. . . 

Sweet Dreams and See You Soon

My closing eyes are a warm hello,
Because I see you as soon as they're shut,
And I can't stop you from coming,
Not that I would try in the first place.
I miss your voice, and your stupid laugh,
Sending my heart into palpitations,
It's what you do best,
And what's more, is that you're oblivious.
I may only see you when my eyes are closed,
But as long as you're happy, it'll be enough.
I couldn't ask you for anymore.

Oak Avenue

It's raining liquid love
and pooling on the concrete
are the quizzical looks and hidden gestures,
falling from a broken sky.

The roof leaks on days like these.
Water on glass shards create a symphony,
drowning out the screaming,
covering up the cries.

A house underneath a heaven so high,
yet filled with the darkness only Hell could bring.
Even as the rain falls,
These walls will never be white again.

You couldn't wash away these stains if you tried.

You Never Learn

You never learn your lesson.
Making the same mistakes,
Taking the same missteps,
Leading you down the same paths.

You grieve once you hit the wall,
but you overlook your own folly,
that brings you there every time.

And you call yourself careful,
and you call yourself wise,
but I witness none of these things.

You're playing the same game,
spinning the same web,
trying to catch something,
only to throw it away.

You never learn your lesson.
Or maybe it's me that never learns. . .

Force-Fed

The operating table is cold,

as my head is pulled back, 

my jaw wired open, 

ready for your next move. 

You numb me of every feeling, 

so my emotions are rendered useless, 

and you begin your daunting task. 

One by one you shove the words, 

deeper down my throat, 

force-feeding the things I never said, 

until they come spilling out, 

flowing out, 

crawling out. 

And you continue despite your better judgement, 

and despite my pleading eyes, 

until you are convinced of innocence, 

and I am left with guilt that isn't mine. 

I hope you're satisfied,

because I'm not. 

Poet of the Month--June

Emily Dickinson--

 

For your musings, I have decided to include a "poet of the month" in my blogging. These featured poets will be ones that I personally adore and admire, and ones that I would highly recommend to avid poetry readers. I also ask that you would leave comments on these posts (as well as my other posts) with your thoughts on the writer, and favorite works  you may enjoy by them. I would love to see what you are reading and what you enjoy! Poetry is to be shared, for it's among the only ways to be truly honest. 

Emily Dickinson is an American poet who is known for her unconventional style and themes. She was born in 1830 and died in 1886. In her lifetime she wrote and published over 400 poems. The following is among my favorites: 

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.

                         --Emily Dickinson          

Landfills

Little hearts with expiration stamps

piled up in trash cans, 

lining the streets, decorating the corners. 

Before the trash man comes to call, 

the raccoons make their rounds,

pillaging the pleasing among these organs. 

Wastefulness at its finest, 

we dump the things most precious, 

as if they were disposable. 

And we ignore our godlessness, 

for what reason?

To eradicate every threat to narcissism? 

We throw it all away, 

Erase His face, 

and paint our own over top. 

The landfills can only hold so much depravity. . . 

Impasse

Yes--

No--

I can't and I won't.
Though I my heart may say otherwise. . .
I need your voice,
Need your laugh,
But I need your happiness above all else.
As much as I care,
I won't make you smile for long,
I won't make your heart race for long,
And when the stars leave our eyes,
We'll only have our resentment to keep us warm at night.
You already hate the core of who I am,
You just don't know it yet.
And if I said yes, I know you could never love me.
To say yes, would be to break my own heart,
We would never see the light.

But. . .

Fence Hopping

The dark can hold our hopes and dreams, 

Like the world in the hands of children, 

But when the sun starts rising, 

And the phone goes dead, 

Nothing can escape the truth in the light. 

I could happily run through the fields, 

Holding your hand like it's all that I have, 

But deep in my soul I'd know that I don't belong, 

Though I may convince you otherwise, 

I am unable to lie to my own heart. 

You can blame me if it makes it easier, 

Since I have let my words flow to freely, 

Let my heart wander to long, 

And if I had have been more careful with myself, 

Then maybe I would have been more careful with you. 

You talk about winning my affections, 

As if they are to be won and owned, 

But you'll take one hard look at the state I'm in, 

And you'll see, you'll truly see, 

This heart is to wild to be won. 

So this is what it's like on the other side of the fence. . . 

Still Here

Willingness is not the issue,
it's the morals that get in the way,
stopping the blood from flowing,
stopping the heart from beating,
Because if the path was clear,
We'd be at death's door.

Your charm is not the question,
you've been able to answer for yourself,
but it's the constant failing,
and the constant falling,
That is keeping us down.
Never will we rise.

My heart could have been formed and casted
by your own two capable hands,
but the defect in my design proves to be my greatest strength,
the strength in yours is what I see as a flaw.
We are mismatched, criss-crossed, and tongue-tied,
yet we are still here. . .