Mine-ish

Am I allowed to
Miss you, though you weren’t quite here?
But you were mine… ish.

Advertisements

Growth of April

The old oak tree,
In all its infinite wisdom,
Sprouted out
Of the ground,
Just like everything else.
It began a seed,
Hopeful and full
Of energy, of future,
Of life.

It grew and it grew,
Happy little shoot,
Its path clear as day.
Soon enough, it stopped
Growing on its own,
And began to branch out.
Little did it know,
That young oak tree,
That it was diseased
And spreading
To every branch, twig and leaf.

The old oak tree,
In all its infinite wisdom,
Stands tall and alone.
Its branches are twisted
And its bark is gnarled.
What an ugly, awful, old tree.

The Liar

I feel it for days
In a million ways
But the outburst won’t come.

I feel it for weeks
As I lie under sheets
But the outburst won’t come.

I feel it in the seconds
When I’ve just learned a lesson
But the outburst won’t come.

I feel like it lies
When I look in your eyes
Because the outburst won’t come.

I think it’s a liar
Because I do feel the fire
But the outburst won’t come.

I think it beguiles
Because I love that smile
But the outburst won’t come.

I think it deludes
Because it’s stronger than blues
But the outburst won’t come.

I’ve felt it for years
But there are no tears.
The outburst just won’t come.

Collision Course 

Halley’s Comet comes around
Whenever he wants.
He visits the Earth,
Says hello,
And Earth smiles back,
Always.

Halley’s Comet comes around
Makes Earth feel loved,
Makes Earth feel special,
Until off he goes again
And Earth remembers
She’s just a weird rock.

Halley’s Comet doesn’t ever stop;
He won’t be tied down.
Earth is too constant,
Too stable,
For Halley’s Comet to stick around.

Should Halley’s Comet decide,
That the Comet life isn’t for him anymore,
He might circle back to Earth
And settle down
But let’s think,
How well could that go?
Boom.

First of the Month

It’s not even one of those
Deafening silences
You hear (or don’t) so much about.
It’s more like
A muffled mumbling,
Constant,
Frustrating
Because it never makes its way
To the surface,
Never gets louder
And never dies out completely.
It’s like seeing everything in watercolour
But not in that
Pretty William Blake style,
But simply for the fact
That it’s so fragile.
It’s barely there
But at the same time
It’s there all too much.
It’s just an incessant
Irritation
Irritation
Irritation
You get stuck on.
Everything kind of fades
Even more than it already had
Because the only thing in focus
Is how fucked up you are
And how much you hate yourself
For the things you did or said
Last week,
Last month,
Seven fucking years ago.
Who knows which incident
Your brain will choose to fixate on today?
Who knows?
Who knows?
Who knows?
Unless I tell them
It’s not really all that clear,
Because “high-functioning suicidal”
Is a thing, you know,
And it’s scary to know
That at any point
If I lose my willpower,
Like I have done before,
I could just let go
And be
No more.
No more.
No more.

Bloom

I was always a daddy’s girl.
Sitting on your shoulders
I was a princess
Ruling, under you
A sea of faces smiling
Up at the electric sky
And I was so excited
After all,
The sky was on fire.

I was always a daddy’s girl.
One day I grew up,
There were things you couldn’t protect
Me from, heartbreak
And bad decisions.
You were fading
While I was blooming
But neither of us noticed that
To each other, we were timeless.