Shrapnel

Cradled by fists
rather than palms,
wide open to hold
my little red heart,
your love only a tool
used to silence a crying child
used at the right moments,
used, just like me.

Fishing wire and tackle
litter my memory of you.
Kodak memories
shoved into a dismal childhood
making a minefield
out of my head,
knowing that at any moment
my innocence could become shrapnel.

I excuse you,
rationalize for you,
stay silent for you,
let your actions speak for you,
and you ignore me,
forget that you know me,
stop from loving me,
and, like a coward, blame me.

If you never touch me again,
it'll be too soon.

Salve

There's no salve for these cracked lips
raw and burning,
and never perfectly healed.
I sleep and don't speak for hours,
as each cut seals over,
and I forget, for a little while,
that I feel any agony at all.
Yet when I awake,
and try to mutter the smallest phrase,
the smallest cry,
or muster the smallest grin,
my sores tear open,
and I am not longer so forgetful.
So it is,
when I part my lips I receive nothing
but stinging pain and chagrin.
Wincing in despair that no one can quel,
untouchable parts of me that no one dare defy,
the very gates to my soul,
besieged and overtaken by
pain, that is dull but ever present,
pain, that subsides, but never leaves,
pain, that seems menial, but is never far from my mind,
pain, that when expressed, never receives aid.

And that, my friend,
is incentive enough
to keep my mouth closed.

The Title of this Poem is Used Three Times

What on God's green earth

makes you think it's okay 

for you to finally be a decent man 

when you were despicable with me? 

Your praises sound like rocks 

falling into an empty well, 

hollow and spent 

like every other word 

you ever spoke to me in love. 

You're the faulty clutch 

that has me stalled in the middle 

of a busy intersection 

scrambling for a running engine, 

but left to collide 

with cars on all sides 

as soon as the light turns green. 

And do you not remember 

the endless months 

that you dragged my heart around 

like an unwanted dog

stuck to your leash? 

I remember the green grass, 

the muddy fields, 

the concrete playground 

and every other place 

you brought me to. 

What on earth, 

makes you think it's okay 

to finally be a decent man, 

when you were only a hurtful boy 

with me? 

4am Honesty

I find it painfully funny
that I haven't spoken to you
in weeks now
yet you still have this way
of making me feel worthless.
Just hearing
of every uneven story,
every feeling you lied about,
makes me want to break
all my own rules,
just to raise hell.
But it doesn't make sense,
that this little green monster
lives inside a heart that is set
on moving on,
because I want to move on.
But I remember how we began,
innocently enough,
but your god
just couldn't make it work.
But now,
you seem to be sure
that a slighter,
lesser, shadow of me
(all pride aside, I swear)
is more than enough
for you to initiate something?
For you to use every tactic
and good relationship sense,
that I taught you?


Oh, Please.

Something Beautiful

Everything in my line of sight
is a slightly broken reflection
of what was once so beautiful.
My dull eyes used to shine,
with a joy that you inspired in me,
And my empty hands used to hold yours,
with such light and honest hope,
but now all I have are the memories.
The tiny snap shots of our story
that never had this end in mind.
There's no rewriting, no reliving,
just the one comforting thought:
that if I look at something beautiful long enough,
then maybe I'll remember what beauty is.

Twenty-Two

You say I've changed
I say you haven't.
Honestly, I think the latter
is more tragic.

You feel a sense of bitterness
when none exists.
And you're taken aback
by my wavering attention.

What did you expect?
After you ran me into the ground?
And what did you want from me?
When I already offered all that I had?

You can't be that oblivious, can you?

Freckles

Your hands to the sky,

you reach for the moon, 

fall short in the stars

and then throw in the towel. 

You're only as good as your next lie, 

calling the shots and taking the names, 

you love this kind of control

when you can dictate all emotions. 

As your promises fall through, 

I count my blessings, 

because being bound to your word 

would cost me my life. 

I honestly don't care enough anymore 

to give up a damn thing for you. 

Up

Pull me up, pull me up,

Because this is bottomless

and undetermined. 

I don't like surprises, 

and I don't like questions 

so the longer you leave me, the faster I fade. 

Pull me up, pull me up, 

from the ground I can't gain, 

and if you feel like being merciful, 

I could use a little compassion. 

Do you feel like loving today?

Or is it a burden you wish to cast off?

Pull me up, 

unless you plan to repeat this process, 

then in that case

don't waste your time. 

I wouldn't want to cause you to make the same mistake twice...

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. . . 

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.