MysteryGirl
07-13-2013, 08:22 PM
Untitled
My hands are tired.
From f*cking with,
the tension between us.
Do you remember?
My lover. My friend. I took a walk tonight and I felt like I was seeing everything for the first time. The city lights reminded me of the glisten in your eyes and the bright gleam of your smile. The children playing reminded me of your innocence and your sweet sweet happiness. The adults shopping reminded me of the things that I realize, now, that you never took for granted. Myself included. The darkness reminded me of the nights we stayed up together and you leaned over on my shoulder and cried and I held you — until I knew you were asleep and I rested, too. It also reminded me of the nights whenever it would storm and we could hear the rain so hard outside and the lightning was barely noticeable outside of your curtains. But we talked about it, anyway. You shined a flashlight on the wall and we made puppets and talked about who we were and why we wouldn’t change that even if we were given an extreme amount of money. Then we talked about money and it’s lack of importance to us. Then we talked about our importance to each other and the flashlight went out. The rain stopped. And we created our own.
All these things reminded me of you, and I didn’t know how to erase it.
Crossroads (Haiku)
Is this the
end of dreaming?
Broken luminance
I went west and north and I still couldn’t find you.
I went south and east and I still couldn’t see you.
You lived here in a photograph, with no regrets.
You lived here surrounded by a photo frame,
without sound.
And I still can’t shake this feeling that you’re still here
close to me — in this crazy lane or Abbey Road.
I need to know.
Are you still my light?
Pieces (of you) on the floor
Everything I lost looks so different now.
I appreciate it from an outsiders view.
Before, these things didn’t matter much.
It was just normal because I was used to having it.
I was used to having the control to start and quit,
and abuse it and use it and think about it and wonder
about it.
But now that I don’t have it, it just seems like a vague
piece of nothing that was taken away from me.
You’re even prettier with guilt stains
on your dress and cobwebs
over your soul.
My hands are tired.
From f*cking with,
the tension between us.
Do you remember?
My lover. My friend. I took a walk tonight and I felt like I was seeing everything for the first time. The city lights reminded me of the glisten in your eyes and the bright gleam of your smile. The children playing reminded me of your innocence and your sweet sweet happiness. The adults shopping reminded me of the things that I realize, now, that you never took for granted. Myself included. The darkness reminded me of the nights we stayed up together and you leaned over on my shoulder and cried and I held you — until I knew you were asleep and I rested, too. It also reminded me of the nights whenever it would storm and we could hear the rain so hard outside and the lightning was barely noticeable outside of your curtains. But we talked about it, anyway. You shined a flashlight on the wall and we made puppets and talked about who we were and why we wouldn’t change that even if we were given an extreme amount of money. Then we talked about money and it’s lack of importance to us. Then we talked about our importance to each other and the flashlight went out. The rain stopped. And we created our own.
All these things reminded me of you, and I didn’t know how to erase it.
Crossroads (Haiku)
Is this the
end of dreaming?
Broken luminance
I went west and north and I still couldn’t find you.
I went south and east and I still couldn’t see you.
You lived here in a photograph, with no regrets.
You lived here surrounded by a photo frame,
without sound.
And I still can’t shake this feeling that you’re still here
close to me — in this crazy lane or Abbey Road.
I need to know.
Are you still my light?
Pieces (of you) on the floor
Everything I lost looks so different now.
I appreciate it from an outsiders view.
Before, these things didn’t matter much.
It was just normal because I was used to having it.
I was used to having the control to start and quit,
and abuse it and use it and think about it and wonder
about it.
But now that I don’t have it, it just seems like a vague
piece of nothing that was taken away from me.
You’re even prettier with guilt stains
on your dress and cobwebs
over your soul.