Like steam to
my bathroom mirror
you are becoming
fogged over…
And even when I
try to clear your haze…
there’s only a
temporary exposure.
Category: My Poetry
11:45pm
Pitch black
and quarter to twelve,
we walked on the beach
barefoot on shells.
Stars guided
our path to low tide,
the oncoming waves
slowing our strides.
We stood there together
in the frigid ocean breeze…
pausing to take in
all we couldn’t see.
Dust
Sometimes I feel like
I am as insignificant to you
as a dust particle
floating through the air.
Then for a brief second
I glimmer from the sun…
And you notice me as
abruptly as I am forgotten.
Erased
Sometimes I wish I could
wipe away my memories of you.
Like writings on a chalkboard.
Leaving nothing behind but
fine white dust
and faded broken outlines.
But I know that even if my mind
could somehow be erased…
I’d still remember
every part of your face.
Declared
How did it feel
when your mind left your body…
and you were declared dead.
Those stunning green eyes
once filled with life…
now hidden by those
black, fixed pupils.
Your every orifice
now holds tubes…
only to preserve
what’s left of you.
But not for you.
For someone deserving
of life…
or perhaps a second chance.
Now we sit here…
listening to these constant,
sharp, monitoring beeps…
my paperwork completed.
Soon the harvesters will take you
for your last salvageable parts…
like crops in a sterile field.
Brain-dead… yet still very much alive.
So was it worth it?
That one last fucking high?
Outnumbered
Over time
my flaws
and faults
seemed to overpower
any and all of
my strengths
and successes...
And I began to
feel hopelessly
outnumbered
by myself.
Boxed
I feel like we all try
to fit ourselves inside of a box.
A simple, square, basic box.
A box where we fit,
try to fit,
or pretend to fit…
But anyway we look at it
it’s still a fucking box.
So are we supposed to stay
inside the box we wind up in?
Or do we work our hardest
to get out of it?
Directionless
During the day,
I have a map.
A crisp, well designed,
detailed map
which I may drift from,
but soon come back to follow.
During the night
I have a compass.
A rusted, cracked,
loose screwed compass
which I try to follow,
but the magnetism is off.
So West becomes East,
and North becomes South...
And I'm left spinning
the full 360°...
Directionless
and lost
until morning.
Cleansed
After the storm clears
and there’s nothing left
but dew…
The dissipating clouds will
let the sunlight peak through.
A golden glow
will cast its’ way to
the ground…
Creating an amber filter
upon all that surrounds.
And as the raindrops
evaporate off the
window panes…
The day will carry on
with all that remains.
Steaming
Tonight I stood crying
silent tears in the shower,
my anger and sadness
mixed in with the water.
When I stepped out and dried
myself off in the mirror,
my eyes held emotions
that couldn't be clearer.
They held the hatred for him
for all he did upon me,
and the pain from grieving
for the girl I used to be.
AO Poetry 
You must be logged in to post a comment.