Tuesday, October 25, 2016

I've tried

I've tried to forget you
believe me I have
on one night stands
and long romances
in a junkies fix
and alcohol induced chances

I've taken the road to nowhere
and boarded flights i can't remember
I've slept away the days
and spent days without sleeping
I've cried my nights to sleep
and I'm done weeping

but I can still remember the smell of your perfume
the silk of your caresses
the sound of the wind as it carried your voice
and the whisper of my heartbreak
as you left me

I've tried to forget you
believe me I have
I've lost myself in Paris
but the grey of it's skies
reminds me of the day we met
and I've walked the olden cities
but their pops of red remind me of your lips
and rain of your diamond blue eyes

I've come to realize
I can't forget you
 I will always love you
because I always have
but sometimes love is not enough

I know your looking out the window of some city
thinking of me too
I know that flower that came yesterday was yours
I know you've tried
like you promised your would
that you've tried to forget me

But I also know you can't

dangerous addiction

Love is a high strung feeling
always humble always willing
to let down it's guard

a mist over the city
a veil over your eyes
a pillow
to muffle the cries

love is a glorious beauty
and beauty is a dangerous addiction
that seldom ends in anything
but heart break
and blood
that taints your soul

it's a warm sensation
like gentle inebriation
that clouds your every thought

Love is words said late into the night
as she walked out the door
and you called her a whore
our of spite and sadness

it's a string of 'i'm sorries'
and rings over a summer breeze
because it's an addiction
like cocaine running through your veins

because your trying to
but never reach
the first high
everyone remembers

love is glorious beauty
and beauty is a dangerous addiction

it's wrong but it's all right
because she's your muse and your her goddess
and it's all madness
love is hope and despair

life's ironic aberration
instilled in sedation
and clear blue eyes

Thursday, January 7, 2016

Like coming home

"it was like coming back
almost like coming back home
but not quite
There were bits and odds missing
here and there
it was exactly how I remembered
the mirror in the living room
and the piece on the mantle
still the same wallpaper in the  game room
and the same stillness of the place
perhaps it was that
that made me so uneasy
that the passing of the years
had seemed to skip this house
I had left and
and I could not fit back into this loophole
only the roses had dwindled down
since my grandmother passed
it was them who felt
the loneliness
them and no one else
no one until me
until I walked in"

No we're not the lucky ones ~

Aren’t you the lucky one?
She asked, truly believing the question was a compliment
Never expecting the outpour that awaited

No I don’t think I am
I don’t think any of us are
We’re the ones that have to live with loss
With that bitter emptiness of loosing someone dear
With disappointments and failures
We’re the ones always trying to make it seem like we’re fine
Because we have to
Because everyone expects us to be stronger than we are
No we’re not the lucky ones
We live with tears brimming on the edge
With broken hearts and lonely nights
We’re the broken ones trying to patch up everything else
We’re the ones that have to continue on whatever legacy we misguidedly believe
We’re the ones fights for every kind of equality, ones we didn’t even know existed, knowing we will never see them until we’re gone
We’re the in between generation, the halfway generation
The one where everything moves so fast and is gone so quickly
That you’re not sure if you’re ahead or behind
We’re the ones with unreachable expectations
That we have set on ourselves
From others
We’re the tired ones, exhausted from all we want and all we do and all we haven’t reached.
But we can’t stop, won’t stop, that’s called quitting
And we don't ever quit
We’re the ones stuck in some sort of fight to break glass ceilings and concrete walls
I’m not sure how it all started and I’m not sure where it will end
No we are not the lucky ones
We’re the ones that dry our own tears
And never let anyone see us cry
Because strong women don’t cry
And we have it all
So everyone can say we’re lucky
But that’s just how myths are created, is it not?