I shall not, I say.
Shall not for every breaking day.
I shall not.
But if I may,
Perhaps with pitied eyes
You'll look on my disgrace
And with tempered regard
For every day I did proclaim.
You see, it was with honest intent
That every shall not slipped
Stubbornly from this tongue.
But he, oh he,
With sweet lips
And sweeter words,
Is the shall I will regret,
And the shall not
That would haunt me to the grave.
Thursday, March 9, 2017
I feel the tendrils creeping in
starting to erode, with tiny little pin holes,
my glowing paper lantern heart.
But this puckish trickery makes me doubt
the subtle dips, the gentle downward tugs.
I’ve walked this path before, ignoring all the signs,
until white walled halls had to pull me back out,
when I was so lost in my abyss
that bloody wrists and a mouth full of pills felt like hope.
Swore I’d never befriend grey, can’t-get-out-of-bed days again,
yet I can feel that draw seeping through,
so close the hairs on my arms sway and rise.
I have fought bare knuckled brawls
with bruises secreted away
from every pitying, bless your heart eyes
because I don’t need their pity
just like I don’t need yours
These scars are mine
These scars define me
I’m proud for every punch I gave back
for always rising when they knocked me down
for waking when they knocked me out.
I fought back, I always fight back
So, keep your damn pity and go to hell
Tuesday, January 24, 2017
Her voice rises and falls,
a sultry swell that seeps
into every corner of the dark, smoky room.
She becomes the embodiment of desire,
the personification of longing.
Oh, luring siren help us forget
the ennui of life outside this song.
If only for a moment,
remind us how it feels to fall in love.
Monday, January 23, 2017
When I am gone, and all that remains is dust,
I give you my sincerest gratitude
for rainy lullaby nights and the crisp rays of dawn;
For dandelions, birthday candles, and falling stars
to whom I entrusted all my deepest wishes;
For airplane tickets and full tanks of gas
pushing me forever forward.
You showed this heart what it means to be alive
with every infatuation, intertwining intimacy, and shattering end.
For every tumble that scraped up my knees
you taught me how to stand,
and to never hang my head in shame at the fall.
For every fissured, cracked heart,
you showed the strength in the mend.
And I overflow with appreciation for that spark,
whether it was a dim glow or a raging wildfire,
that kept my fingertips reaching for dreams.
So, Life, please accept my offering of thanks
for the breathtaking beauty of this world
and the generosity of a heart with which to view it.
The expectations of yesterday
were too heavy a burden to bear,
and this love buckled under the weight.
All that’s left is the crumbling cement,
found in secret looks of contained longing,
and a flickering electric touch.
Muscle memory keeps us swaying.