My own thoughts slay me.
The torment of the lonely
Are long past memories.
On the other side of the mirror I drown,
But they can’t see me.
The black pitch consumes
Everything in totality.
When love left me
The fallacy of normality
Was shattered utterly;
A couple walk by in the rain
And kiss passionately …
I stare keenly;
Suddenly, I am overcome with envy.
Tag: poem
-
-
Black waterfalls flow over white silk pillows.
Through sweet honey you speak to me.
Without heels you stand at 5’4″ naturally.
Glistening rivers in mid spring are your skin;
Your eyes are a revelation of the heavens.
The contour of you neck is beautiful and feminine.
Your silhouette takes away my breath;
On that night, we became one under the light of the stars …
From the crown of your head to the soles of your feet you are adored.
Let us lie together so I can eagerly whisper, mi amor.
Words can’t be spoken of deep love and sincere emotions.
The flow of your sensuality is like the movement of the oceans.
You are my comfort; you are my warmth.
Without your presence and your essence I am lost.
Sing me a beautiful song, and let me rest my head
In the ataraxia of your arms.
The softness of your skin is akin to endless rose pedals;
Your scent, white gardenias in early summer.
In our lives we have both suffered
But have now found healing in each other.
I have had many lovers, but you are like no other;
Your understanding of my character is a natural wonder;
The way you read me is certainly uncanny.
Through loving brown eyes is how you see me. -
She finally found herself after the turmoil and the tears,
Though the process of her healing would take several years.
Her heart was delicate, but the people she trusted the most never protected it.
In fact, they were the ones who tried to break her spirit.
A stark lesson in the realization that the ones you love, don’t always love you.
The lowest point in her story was when she recognized that it was true.
The heartbreak she must have felt places the reader directly in her shoes;
Seeing the coldness of the world through her eyes and those sleepless
Nights she wailed and cried, is enough to make the reader cry;
Even more so, is the fact that she was abandoned
Even though they knew that on that faithful night she could have died.
Her triumph in the late chapters served to be an emotional roller coaster.
I have a feeling this is just the beginning, and her story is far from over. -
With an affectionate touch and passionate kiss
The subtleties in-between finally rose to the surface,
Revealing true feelings of love in glorious bliss. -
We were dancing and I went to get drinks;
Your oratory moved me, and I liked the way you think.
I looked back at you, and you smiled at me.
To the bartender I said loudly,
Double shot whiskey, a bottled water and a vodka cranberry.
Upon returning I couldn’t find you;
Perhaps another enticed you.
Did you go to the restroom?
I walked around looking for you with a slight frown;
Another three songs came on, but you couldn’t be found.
Perhaps you left abruptly because you didn’t like me,
Or the music was too loud?
Oh well;
Bartender! Double shot whiskey, another round! -
Is there redemption to be found in suffering?
Is there nobility in enduring incessant pain?
Can darkened eyes see blue skies through constant rain?
Are we not mortals set in our ways?
Do we not dread the end of days?
Do we not work our fingers to the bone
And apply for loans with interest to be repaid?
In the totality of our lives as the ninety nine percent, are we not slaves?
Do we not have dreams that are unseen?
Do we not weep for ourselves in the four walls we dwell?
Are babies not born into a polluted world of living hell?
Do we not live on the edge risking our lives to feel alive?
Do we not indulge in vices to escape our own minds?
Do we not self medicate because conventional therapy offers no escape?
Have we not prayed and prayed to see nothing change?
Do we not try to hide our pain from the eyes of our children?
Is there a magical pill to a new beginning?
Are we condemned to a fiery lake for our constant sinning?
Do we not hold back tears when in the company of our unknowing peers?
Have we not battled and battled the torment of irrational fears?
When it is late and we remain awake, do we not contemplate our fate?
Do we sometimes not break from the heaviness of the weight?
Do we not constantly mentally write and rewrite our own eulogies?
In each other do we not find beauty?
Do we not remember first kisses in the sunshine of the summertime?
When I see her, do I not see an angel in my mind?
Through the storm will I fall in the field or will I survive?
Does the vengeance in my blood manifest in my son’s eyes?
In our listlessness do we still look to the skies?
In my plight am I misunderstood?
Do I hold back my love or give one hundred percent as I should?
In the loves I have lost, would I change the outcome if I could?
If I had the power would I resurrect my mother?
Do my weaknesses reflect the genetics of my father?
In my pursuance of success, should I even bother?
Is the world rife with decadence and are the years becoming stranger?
Have I become a recluse with unjustified anger?
From the beautiful sentiments I relayed, does she not remember?
In the affects of my childhood do I continue to suffer?
If it doesn’t kill you does it really make you stronger?
Can the moments of peace be made to last longer?
Can two or three small yellow pills cure chronic insomnia?
What qualities in particular make a good lover?
Did the chicken come before the egg, or is it the other?
Should I have stayed, or should I have left her?
Am I both a victim and a survivor?
Do I protect the appearance of vulnerability with a gruff exterior?
Do I approach the advent of adversity in a rational manner?
Are people with cogent minds better orators?
Is marriage better than being a perpetual lover?
Was it the allure of the exterior, or did I really love her?
Did I say something regrettable in my anger?
Are the questions pertinent? . . . I wonder. -
In a nutshell his life was a constant hell.
Reread carefully, if you have somehow
Missed the purgatory of his story.
-
And now that the hour is upon us, let us love each other once more
With the purest of hearts and the sincerest of kisses.
In the blinking of an eye, let us rekindle what we thought we had lost
And recapture the letters of love and all the misses.
We had lost each other in the wind, but now in these precious moments
We begin again and find the sacred intimacy of our origin.
In the calm before the storm, let us hold each other once more
And find our secret place of warmth on the wings of the archangels,
Touching all the worlds and guiding us through the light of heaven’s door.
I will love you and cherish you my angel, now and forevermore. -
The autopsy of a broken dream is started with the collection of the scattered pieces. The scene of the final tragedy must be reconstructed and seen through the eyes of the afflicted. The genesis of malady must be traced back and seen clearly; see the hope of the heart and its failed audacity. Glare upon pain in its rawest form, and with astuteness write down your observation. The thoughts of the oppressed must be dissected with precision. To properly conduct the procedure, the dream must be placed in a sterile environment completely void of contaminants. Notice the scarring of the organs denoting internal turmoil. They must be weighed as studious attention is paid. Record the various weights, and make general observations of its final state. It was beautiful in its formation but short in its realization. If you have to, step away briefly and ponder the beauty of what could have been, and then start again. The dream did not have any friends, so at the ceremony you will be the only person to attend. Make sure it is treated with dignity as it appears to sleep peacefully. Remember your duty and maintain professional reputability. At your own discretion, try to visualize what it couldn’t see, and in your memory remember what it wanted to be.
-
Incessant sorrow overtakes
With quiet tears the tormented contemplates
What on the other side awaits
Intimate Compositions 