The Web Poetry Corner
The Web Poetry Corner
Van Meter, IA, US
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Enough time has passed
for me to see the mistakes we both made,
but not enough time
for me to blame anyone but you.
The days have dragged,
becoming a continuous list
of dagger looks and fuck ups
committed on your part,
and with each addition
my joy grew.
I thought the feelings would go away
when I kept track of your imperfections.
I was blatantly wrong.
Bombarded by the need to string you back,
I gave in to the favors,
and screaming in self hatred
while I shamelessly scurried
to your every command.
Now the tape is over
and the last cord is fading into obscurity,
just like me.
But life in the shadows is easier,
as you watch everyone else
make their own lists,
ask their different favors,
and fuck up on their own time.
And how that time flies...
I could spend my hours staring at you
as we walk together
down the spring blown path.
Our steps are light
and we leave no shadow;
no murky debris of depression
is dropped as we pass.
The moonshine plays tag on your face,
brushing over butterfly soft cheeks,
falling over your eyelashes,
dripping over your lips
that quietly kiss the night air as you talk.
The fragile breeze laps at the cool calm
and barely touches your hair,
her sifting fingers soft in their reverence.
Your supple skin gleams
underneath the shadows of
the envious trees we walk beneath,
branches longing to caress the moistness
of vitality and life you contain.
I dance in the downpour of awe
showered upon what I call mine,
but jealous possessiveness seizes me
if any attempt contact.
The words that cross your lips are well planned
and handled with special care.
The ideas slide around your acrobatic tongue,
slipping between your teeth,
thoughts drenched in liquid genius,
before finally spilling forth
in perfectly tuned timbre,
raining gently upon my parched and worshipping ears.
I might bask in this glory for days,
my ears following the musical purity
found in your voice,
my eyes stroking the delicacy of your face,
my heart absorbing your tenderness...
but I am unwillingly snapped back into reality
as twelve tolls of the clock flood the protective dusk.
I tempt the elasticity of time,
stretching it beyond all limits
before I am wrenched from your side.
So within my forced stability I sit and dream of you
and the beautiful times you've given me.
The world is whirling the wrong way.
Everything is backwards and upside down.
The voices scream at her to walk on the ground
but everyone else is riding a lightning bolt.
Confusion has blurred all her straight lines
and chaos rages in her terrified eyes
as they peer around the dark corners in her soul.
Normality cannot cope with her
(Why is she screaming at the TV?
It's only a breath mint add!)
and she worries all whom she touches.
But there is a secret,
hidden in the eye of the thrashing storm
colliding with the tilted walls of her lop-sided mind;
though she is truly scared and ashamed,
she'll only admit such insecurities
to own someone's sympathy and attention.
Her tales, though [almost] based in fact,
are still gilded with reflective, yet misleading,
(second hand metals for second hand stories)
polished to near perfection through various revisions.
But there is one who sees
beyond all the smoke screems and barriers,
to her "true" self.
And yet, in his perceptiveness,
he is the most blinded,
for even as he stares into her eyes
it's his soul that he sees looking out;
and even as she glares into her mirrored heart,
it's his eyes that peer out of her reflection.
He has possessed her
and his only fault was kindness.
So amidst all the honesty and goodness in her,
there lurks the knowledge
that she is lying to the one she loves most
by the very grains of truth that she gives him.
Her honesty and goodness
are an act within an act,
evil within good within evil within good.
The conflict rips her
as her person melts and blends with iteself,
always adapting to match the moment.
She is dying to end the game
but selfless cowardice stills her hand,
because she hates herself less than she loves him.
Frustration enevelops her as she struggles
for the words to help him understand,
and frequent tears stand by.
The cacophony of thoughts scares her,
and the chords of music
that only she car hear clash.
In the end, she decides to ignore it all,
hoping all will resolve itself if she turns away.
Alas, she has forgotten this world spins backwards,
and every step forward is a stumble back.
So all directions lead to the one she wants most desperately to forget.
But he doesn't care.
And so she loves him.