I came home
to sharp green heads
peeping from the
dirty allotment of Time-
where I sank my sorrow
to rest.
Unattended fields
yield no crop-
but there is no mistaking
the colour that
betrays the brown
of my
abandoned mud.
My loss I cannot reap,
yet cannot leave to die!
I want it so badly
to revert into the ground
before that’s where I lie.
In my dreams we kiss and love
And in my nightmares
I wake up.
In my thoughts you’re close and near
But beside my aching flesh
You are not here.
Will there be a day when
This torment ends
In my whimpering soul,
Or am I now
But half of a whole?
This is just a silly lovesick poem along with the product of my attending life-drawing classes!
Talk to me about anything
Except what could have been.
For my mind is crawling with
False memories of you and me.
You took me to the prom, and
Told me I looked prettier than
All the fields that had ever
Soaked beneath and through our naked skin.
Our hands, tied together, would pirouette
With every kiss I would never forget.
I pressed every petal from every flower
You gave me so they would not rot.
Talk to me about anything.
Except what was not.
Here is a poem about change and how death isn’t always in body. (Still a work in progress!)
I grieve not
For bone and skin
But for the deceased mind
Once held within
A fickle façade
Where my love
Had been.
Who parades your body;
And in the meantime
Discarded its beauty
Leaving it for dead
Like you left me?
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