You Used To Be Someone...
I worry the ivy swallowing
Large stone buildings on campus
Is representative of how your essence
Seems to envelop me and keep half the truth,
Like half the sun,
From my eyes.
I'd like to believe that it is not so voracious;
That rather it clings desperately
To rough grey stones,
As I do to hope
That your hands will find me again.
Walking past the library faces,
There's no mistake those stain glass eyes
Look pitifully down on me,
Neck cold in a deep red coat
With no scarf;
Wrapping my hands around a hot chocolate
For elusive comfort.
It's commonplace-
It's the way everyone looks at me-
Unsure of how to help,
Wishing I measured my time
On their clock of ideals.
Half in a daze,
Half alert,
Moving along the dirt path
Without leaving any footprints.
No "hey, hello;"
I was never there.
Flecks of rain dampen my wisps of hair,
And the willow tree reaches out
To caress my face.
The sidewalk and I
Are the only colour beneath the gloom.
It tells me excitedly of projects,
Meetings, and free food.
I can't hear it advertizing anymore;
I've got to figure you out.
I've got it!
You used to be someone…
But now you are a chalk lover
Scribbled on my pavement face;
Cry a little and you'll just drip away.
You are prince charming doodled on the shore;
Reduced to a toad, and then gone,
With one determined wave.
You are a piece of clichéd poetry-
Not the good sorts that hang immortally in the stars-
Not John Donne in the purse
Of hopeful girls.
You are just terrible poetry,
And I can hardly remember a time
When you were ever anything more.
Large stone buildings on campus
Is representative of how your essence
Seems to envelop me and keep half the truth,
Like half the sun,
From my eyes.
I'd like to believe that it is not so voracious;
That rather it clings desperately
To rough grey stones,
As I do to hope
That your hands will find me again.
Walking past the library faces,
There's no mistake those stain glass eyes
Look pitifully down on me,
Neck cold in a deep red coat
With no scarf;
Wrapping my hands around a hot chocolate
For elusive comfort.
It's commonplace-
It's the way everyone looks at me-
Unsure of how to help,
Wishing I measured my time
On their clock of ideals.
Half in a daze,
Half alert,
Moving along the dirt path
Without leaving any footprints.
No "hey, hello;"
I was never there.
Flecks of rain dampen my wisps of hair,
And the willow tree reaches out
To caress my face.
The sidewalk and I
Are the only colour beneath the gloom.
It tells me excitedly of projects,
Meetings, and free food.
I can't hear it advertizing anymore;
I've got to figure you out.
I've got it!
You used to be someone…
But now you are a chalk lover
Scribbled on my pavement face;
Cry a little and you'll just drip away.
You are prince charming doodled on the shore;
Reduced to a toad, and then gone,
With one determined wave.
You are a piece of clichéd poetry-
Not the good sorts that hang immortally in the stars-
Not John Donne in the purse
Of hopeful girls.
You are just terrible poetry,
And I can hardly remember a time
When you were ever anything more.