Poems wither by my desk
Like dying stars they crumble and fold
And I find it peculiar
As I roam through metaphors and escapades
How every rhyme seems made for you,
And every story seems written for us
Even though I don't think you want them to.
A heart bares truths only visible to the mirror
And I tapped into it and found silhouette after silhouette.
So I took my poems and carried them
Like a face carries tears that were meant for someone else
And lay them to rest in the fireplace
Where new stories would arise
With the ashes
Of a silhouette.
They ignite. And so do I.
Voices whisper as night turns to morning
For sleep is a luxury I rarely receive.
And my hands are empty, but yours might not be
So I pour myself some coffee
And hold the cup just a little bit longer.
Will you ever love me?
Will I ever let you?
Or will the scarecrow scare the leopard?
You always said "we should do what we fear"
Now I'm drowning.
So thanks for that.
"I'm this close to living a life alone filled with hate" you said.
And I am close to living a life without living.
What if this is just the second worst day of your life?
And through the second verse
Of a song long lost in metaphors and memories
If it's reasonable to doubt.
If it's reasonable to trust a mirror,
Or if losing her will be worth it.
"I wish there were a God so I’d have someone to scream at" you said.
And I wish there was a Devil I could kiss goodnight.
Because I got a feeling God would be the one
Out all night
Pulling pranks and paying for tricks under OPEN-signs.
No, the Devil is the comfort of moonlight that I seek
Whose breath smells of coffee and cigarettes,
And in his heart a poem that lasts the longest of days.
I'm this close to living a life alone filled with hate.
And I am close to living a life that comes with living.
And you told me what I always wanted to hear.
And then you didn't.
Coffee is cold, but not as cold as an afternoon.
Maybe this is just the second worst.
"Kiss me and it will release me" I'll say.
but never reveal me.