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.

Groan

Birthed into black,
my head in a bag
unable to breathe
without feeling the
suffocation of your absence,
slowly spinning my eyes
backwards into the sky
where they cannot be
retrieved.

Raised on baby-bottles
filled with milked soured
by salty tears,
weaned by dirty pacifiers
and torn blankets,
with holes of your making
cut with the same scissors
that separated us
and my bellybutton still aches.

Grown and groaning
for the lost days
of light and fresh air,
your smudging hands,
and crocheted blankets
decorated with promises.
Offered to other
more fortunate babes,
that I will never be.

You ought to remember,
that I didn't choose you.

Embers

You are the whispers
of inadequacy and doubt
that seep into my cerebrum
and rearrange every ordered emotion.
It's like stepping into a library
and ripping all the books from the shelves
and leaving me there
to clean up your mess.
I have a million and one ways
to put you in your place,
to shut up that gaping mouth
and silence you forever,
but the havoc your secrets bring
is too high a cost for your speechlessness.
I repeat
"you're not worth it, you're not worth it"
and pray that my civility
will evolve into scorching embers
that sit on your head.

Your Bones

I live in the city, 

of your last known address; 

wandering the same streets, 

sitting in the same coffee shops, 

and asking the same questions. 

I wonder if it's your birthday today?

Sometimes I like to think, 

that when it rains,

we both wear raincoats, 

and when it's bright, 

we both wear smiles. 

Are our smiles the same?

I wonder if you would know, 

who I was if I walked past you, 

if you'd see your flesh and bones, 

your eyes, your nose, your mouth, 

or just another passing face. 

We may share many things in this city, 

but one thing we don't share, 

is a mutual knowledge of each other's existence. 

To you, I don't even exist. 

Seconds

This is another poem from one of my old poetry books. I wanted to post this one because it's so different from how I write now, yet I still love this kind of writing. Again, let me know what you think ! 


No vacancy, 
no place, no room, 
empty, yet full, 
turned away, like every other time. 
Lights off, dark halls, 
empty graves, hollow words, 
desolate, a place to call home, 
among the homeless and the fatherless; 
rest in peace. 
Far across from the corners of this emptiness, 
drawn from the black rivers, 
hung from the dead branches, 
are pieces of the puzzle, 
out of reach, undiscovered. 
Names and dates, 
faces and answers, 
fleeting. 
Ever so fleeting. 
Just like the time, 
now, now, now, now, now, 
You've failed me now. 
And now. 
fleeting...
and now. 

Hot Coals

Well excuse me
for these pent up words
and my long winded laments,
for I have forgotten to realize
that you hardly care.

And pardon me,
for mentioning these memories I relive
retrace, reveal, remember,
for it is only now that I see,
that you don't think of me at all.

And how can you sleep
with the knowingness of guilt?
and how can you dream
when I can hardly shut my eyes?

You're still stopping and blocking, and locking me up.
You're pushing and pulling, and holding me down.
You're breathing and scheming, and feeding me lies,
You're unaware, godless, and convinced of my demise.

But do you not know me?
Do you not know who I am?
You have not chosen some small child
or some silent lamb, so easily led,
but rather a conqueror so bent
on seeing a heavenly, divine justice.
You owned the hand that fed me,
and it is your poison I now reject,
And as my teeth sink further into your flesh,
I can muster up nothing that looks like regret.

Bike

Yes,
I saw you.
Yes,
I know you saw me.

Yes,
I ignored your existence.
No,
I don't feel bad for doing it.

You know where you can go.

Red Shame

Paint brushed cheeks,
Fire-engine red,
Counting stones on the ground,
Eyes averted.
Keep it up, keep it up,
Shame never worked so well!
You wonder what's stopped you,
From trying this before?
A sense of indecency perhaps?
You tell yourself no.
Words drip from your lips,
Casting a shadow,
Crushing your victim,
Building your pride.
Keep it up, keep it up,
Glory only lasts so long,
Pride won't keep you warm at night,
And soon enough,
Even cruelty will become boring.

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.