Poems, February 2010 - January 2011
What You Have
I guess you're done playing nice;
Now you're just keeping tabs.
Well, watch me all you like, honey.
I don't want what you have.
And what do you have?
A pinch of happiness and
a fistful of heartache?
A moment of tenderness and
nights full of bitterness?
I don't want what you have.
You can keep it.
Why should I kill myself trying to
get something that would only
burn me in the end?
I may be reckless, jaded, and broken,
but I'm smart enough to know
when to say when.
I don't want what you have.
I've lived that disaster,
in another life,
with another man.
I know what it's like,
the thrill before the crash,
thinking it'll all be worth it
right before it implodes.
One rollercoaster ride was enough for me.
So I don't want what you have.
You can relax, honey.
I've got my sights set on
something that's equally foolish,
but won't bury my world in drama.
I don't have the time,
the heart,
or the will
to want what you have.
Between Brick Walls
Cool, clear night sky,
Smoke lingering on the air,
Gravel crunching under my heels.
Your hands on my face,
Your lips on mine,
Committing your taste to memory.
My hand on your heart,
Tears of doubt in my eyes
that you are quick to chase away.
You tell me you love what
goes on in my head,
how you've missed me more
than I know.
I tell you I want to be more
than just your someday,
because our lives will always
be a mess and the timing will
never be perfect, but we can
work through it together.
Always friends,
sometimes lovers.
Proof that first loves linger.
Chess
You are a brilliant liar,
carefully crafting beautiful lines
that echo the desire
you see shining in my eyes.
No matter how hard I try to
defend myself against you,
I have always been easy prey
to that sly smile and those
sweet words.
It's a game we've played
for years - you getting exactly
what you want from me by
handing out false hope
and cashing in every favor
and second chance I give you.
And though I know this all
too well, I still find myself
your pawn every time.
Portraits in Winter
I sometimes wonder if I
could find God here,
if I could find myself here,
if I could find peace here.
But all I see are shades of gray,
bare trees, damp ground
covered in dead leaves.
Crows endlessly echoing the
harsh and muted gloom.
All I feel is cold,
the kind that takes root slowly,
starting in your toes and
working its way up.
I wonder if this isn't an
accurate portrait of God
or myself after all.
There's life here, but it's
uninterested, apathetic, indifferent...
I know why I come here when
I'm overwhelmed and restless -
Not to find hope, happiness, or peace,
but to find a quiet place to think
and set my darker thoughts to paper.
This place is a sanctuary dreary
enough for Poe.
And sometimes it's exactly
what I need -
A cold, unforgiving dose of reality.
Without
I miss: sleepy smiles in the morning,
Quick kisses in the kitchen,
Sitting on the couch with
your head in my lap -
running my fingers through your hair,
Falling asleep legs tangled,
back to chest, skin to skin,
That devilish smile when you've
got me right where you want me,
silencing protests with mouths, hands,
Feeling content,
Feeling like everything made sense
and we belonged right where we were,
Feeling like home,
You.
Intoxication
You taste like sin
and all the reasons
why I shouldn't
be here.
It's dark in my car,
save for the light
in your eyes that
I haven't seen since
we were thirteen.
With every breath
between us
I'm buzzing from the
nictotine on your lips
and the liquor in my veins.
And with every word
you say and every
kiss you steal
I forget why it is that
I shouldn't be doing this.
Later, when I'm away
from the intoxication
of your presence,
guilt will crash down
on me in waves
as tall as the man
who'll stand before me.
But right now,
right here,
in this place,
I am content to be
tangled up in you.
For Keeps
I will not go running into
the first pair of arms that
are happy to hold me.
And I will not read more into
these words and these lips
than what's on the surface.
I will not chase after daydreams
and wind up chasing you away.
You have always meant more
to me than some game of
cat and mouse we sometimes play.
And I will not make my same
mistakes this time around.
This time I play for keeps,
no matter which way I get
to keep you as my own.
Friend or lover, but never nothing.
Never fully without.
(Un)Truth and Consequences
A liar will always see
his own untruths reflected
back at him in the
eyes of everyone else.
It is a tricky form of
conscience, a way for
guilt to creep up and
haunt him.
The punishment for his
lies is paranoia - fear
that he will be found
out manifesting in fear
that his victims are
playing the same game.
As such, he will destroy
his relationships, and
himself,
by questioning every
move, every glance,
every word...
A liar's hell.