Tuesday, February 16, 2010

working it out poetry style.

:take it back:

a dream is a wish your heart makes?
allow me to vomit on the very thought
i dream of goodbyes
of past loves
of loves never had.
a dream?
a nightmare.
my mind want me to believe it is a dream,
my deepest fears at center stage.
losing those i love,
or want to love,
or never being loved at all.
cinderella can take back her song
and her happy ending dream,
because i don't live in a fairy tale,
and princes don't right on horseback,
or come into the save day.
and this screams of bitterness,
and i may be a strong independent woman,
but that doesn't mean a thing,
i want a happy ending
like any girl in a frilly dress
with stars in her eyes.
because i need to average out
my hello's with my goodbye's
and figure this out,
because i have to live this.
day dreams and wishes my heart make
only carry me so far.
but is there any cure?
any other answer to this bitterness?
but to dream...
to hope...


:something had to remain:

all that stands is an empty chimney
allowing the wind a place to sing
it's somber
chilling song
whipping pieces of ashen firewood
down and around
echoing its tale
of life and death
and nothing more
carrying the message
of existence in its expanse


:silence of no:

i never expected you to say yes
but i wasn't anticipating a no
or should i say
a lack of response,
so many of these words
i spout off are about you
perhaps now they'll cease
now that you've finally let me know
by your silence.
the silence of no,
the ending no,
the no that will resound forever
in the space i cleared for you,
in the cracks you created.


:24 years late:

You have never told me truth
but live life as if no one else matters
am i any different,
from the man at the corner liquor store
that you should owe me anything?
any effort
is 24 years too late,
yet still,
the pain lingers,
when i should expect nothing
because i have been given nothing,
i expect something.
even just a small acknowledgement
that i matter...
because i do matter
i matter to the people who matter.
i matter to the woman who took your place,
she stepped in
and loved me
with a love you will never understand
a love you could never grasp
a love i don't even understand,
to love like that you have to give something up,
and you never will
you will just be a woman
a woman 24 years too late.


:on beauty:

beauty is carried
in a raised head
in eye that look at the horizon
not at their owners feet
is it not better to suffer the pain of falling,
then to lose the beauty of the sky?

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