Tuesday, August 30, 2011

I can't come home until I'm a failure in no one's eyes but my own.

Moving was hard,
But staying seems harder,
Especially with all the pieces I left behind.
And people need me now,
More so than they did then -
Now, when I can't come be the shoulder
Their tears shed on
And the kind ear their problems spill out to.
So I send wayward spies to watch over
The ones I love
And cherish
And wish I could be there for:
Girls like me, who need girls like me to tell them that it DOES get better,
You just have to hold on
Until I come home
And can show you first-hand that things change.
But right now, I can't,
Well, they haven't.
Not for me anyway.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Invasive thoughts alwaysalwaysalways attack at nightfall.

I wish I could find the words
But I can't:
There are none.
And I used to be able to paint
When I couldn't speak;
Now my canvases remain blank, barren, off-white
Because no color can touch language
With deafening silence standing ominous guard
At misestimation's side
While the ghost of communication
Looks on with increasingly defeated eyes.

How can two people claim to know each other
When neither of them know anything at all?

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Leaving; return date TBA.

You asked me to choose, and I did:
It was just about everyone but you.
I chose my past, because it hurt a little less;
I chose my friends, because they were the ones who were there.
I chose to leave, because staying meant memories everywhere
And I had picked the songs that would drown them out long ago.
Myself, because I finally deserve better;
Him, because he did too, even just for the short time we were together.
Everyone else, because with as many people as there are in the world
They can't all be just like you.
Anyone else, because I'd rather start from scratch,
With someone completely new,
Than keep lying to myself about
Everything to do with you.

Monday, August 22, 2011

Less of a poem, but more thought than rhyme portrays.

Thirst doesn't fade,
But the alcohol runs dry
And this is the third night in a row
That I've purposefully gotten fuzzy
To drown out the memories
Of you, not him:
Because you're my current demon
And you don't even know
That you're affecting me like this.

I don't like to partake in excess,
But the drinks keep flowing out of this pitcher
And I'm real pretty
When I laugh with the power of
Liquid confidence coursing through my veins.

On the flip side,
Trick side,
Honesty goes away
When sobriety edges it's way through
The inebriation.
And I'm scared of myself when I'm sober,
So alcohol's more of a friend than you;
Especially when you make yourself a toy.

You'll never know any of this,
Unless you find where I hide my secrets.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Just go then.

I'll keep playing games
So you can keep pretending that you're the winner
But being scared doesn't qualify
As coming out on top:
It just keeps you grounded,
Stationary, 'fraidy cat terrified of the terrible
New World
And the greener grass that might be there
(because there's a chance that it really isn't better on the other side).

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

So we let go.

And they're just words, I know,
As well I know I had no right
To ask you to say them
But I needed it -
To relax
To breathe
To let that last inch free
Before ecstacy.
And yeah, they're just words,
But words are everything
When they have to be.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

There used to be stars in Hattiesburg and I keep staying up late hoping to see them again.

We fell asleep with hands intertwined
But I was thinking of something else
So I forgot to capture the moment -
Because thinking of something else is the one way
To not think of you
And that's not weird, no matter how many times you swear it is.
Sometimes I let my guard down though,
Like in the mornings when the sun comes through the blinds:
It makes your eyes sparkle and
The lighting makes your face look more welcoming than ever...
I guess this is the one place to which I can sing your praises
When I can't open my mouth to be more than a bitch any other time.
I get aggravated easily, perhaps you've noticed,
But it's only because I still feel as if
I'm not entitled to like you
Quite as much
As I do.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

I grasp straws.

I crave the truth, need to know what's going on inside your head,
But I pretend it doesn't matter:
I play it cool, cucumber-esque
And you don't say anything
Because I don't ask the right questions -
I'm afraid I'll hear the wrong answers
Even though I'm not sure I know what the right ones would be.