So, after listening to Renegade suggesting I posted this for public consumption.....here is a poem I wrote tonight. I'm curious to everyone's thoughts.......good/bad/indifferent, whatever.
XO,
Bam
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right now
wet paper are tender bruises
when you commit them to broken
memory, when you counted
on the commitment of the platform
to never be weak by monday's thunderstorm.
what do you do when it's pouring?
I love the feel of rain on my face
but it's the lightning and the thunder
that scare me. I never remember
which comes first.
'words can't hurt you' may be true
if you play in shallow pools.
it's the emotion behind them that spills oils
you can't erase with hard liquor
or a replica body with hair in your eyes
thinking you won't know the difference
if you just try.
what are names
but identifying pronouns
of words personified
in your own personal Oxford
you are my run-on sentence
because i talk too much
and i give you ellipses
because we have no ending
and I don't want us
to be imprisoned by clauses
what do you do when you're still lost
after you ask for directions? do you
keep walking, waiting for something
you would have missed, if you hadn't
taken that wrong turn. I would have missed
the nice guy sweeping the sidewalk,
telling me I was going the wrong way,
sure I was pissed
for not knowing my way around
but I believed
his "you're welcome"
he was kind enough to not
let me keep going further away
from where I had to be.
I wonder what else
he would have known the answers to,
if I had asked. maybe
he would be able to tell me
why I keep walking around your block
without being able to go to your door
and grip your doorframe
while telling you everything
crowded in the stairway of my mind.
those run-on sentences,
those incomplete thoughts,completed
with nothing but my heart in slices
saturated in being avoided too much and too long.
so you won't shut the door
and say it's nice to see you but
I can't see you right now,
without knowing the truth that we both know.
