regret

Hole

Folder: 
2019

a lot of things are wrong with this picture.

I am not a girl in a hole.

a memory spilled over your city.

can’t make it out alive

so do you want to catch me again

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 8/14/19

From 300 writing prompts

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Cold

I was quite a fool,

And I regret it everyday,

My lack of fortitude,

My lack of industry,

It pains me to think of it

It's true,

This isn't something,

That has much use.

But I must let it out

 

Each day passes with a certain coldness,

Not a chill,

But an iceberg,

Along my spine,

Splintering out into each and every muscle,

And a heat,

Inside my chest,

Confusion in the mind,

Chaos in the body,

The worries, oh the worries.

They fill up my mind,

Taking with it all the oxygen,

It feels as though I'm going to faint,

But I somehow arrive momentarily,

At a calm,

A melancholy calm,

Somewhere,

Resting in the darkness,

There is some warmth,

Some hope,

Some Forgiveness,

It isn't strong enough to fend of the pain,

But just strong enough,

To be noticed,

And oh what a joy it is,

To feel something in me,

Somehow,

Has not given up on me,

It still cares,

Its love is unconditional,

It is beautiful,

I feel blood rush to my cheeks,

A soothing release up the back of my neck,

Thank you.

Whatever you are, holding me together,

Loving me when no one else will,

Thank you.

I will wait out this terribleness,

Until I can feel your embrace once again.

 

 

 

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Solitary night

 
 
Solitary night
 
tears of dissatisfaction
 
choking on memories
 
a torrent as the dark presses in
 
Searching, seeking
 
the long-awaited slumber
 
of each miserable, useless regret of yesterday
 
Yet, afraid to face the uncertainty of tomorrow
 
 
 

Ripping

Folder: 
2018

If we were perfect

I don’t know

how long

we would stay.

 

If I was fearless

I would tell you everything

you need to hear.

 

I want to repeat repeat repeat

until all the tears are a drought we can’t fix.

 

I want to open the gates

until I am no one you ever wanted.

 

If I was a voice

I would want you to hear it.

If I was a hand

I would want you to hold it.

If I was golden

I would wish it all away

but instead I sit here

ripping all the paintings from the walls

louder and louder

making us quieter and quieter

and I am your bulldozer

until you have nothing left to feel.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 2/27/18

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Let me see you again

Pretty face

Affable and sweet

Accept my invitation

Take the adjacent seat

 

Talk to me about your art and studies 

The music you love 

All that you find funny

 

And in our limited time together, consider my regret

I never told you about your eyes

Your beautiful hair

Or your apparent intellect

 

That when you left me that day, you never left my memory

That I dreamed about you since the day that you met me

 

That I suppressed my feelings, for fear of rejection

And I pushed them so far down, I forgot where I had left them

 

I will remain fond of you, far from when I leave

And in my absence I hope that you still think about me

I hope that you think about the laughs we shared and the connection I seeked

 

I hope that you turn my way, when you're looking for a friend

I hope that you still trust me

And let me see you again

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wondering

Folder: 
2017

wandering

with you

wondering why your lips are chapped

I think

I could tell you

it’s not a crime

if you keep it

 

(I know I

for one

have tucked that kiss

in too many pockets

and I wouldn’t want it

to be different)

 

wondering why

all these days

I spend with you

go by too fast

when you see no future

and the haze keeps all of us quiet

 

wondering why

I’m still not shivering

so close to you

 

wondering why

you can’t see

this beauty this mess

why no one gets tired

of being around you

 

wondering why

it is so damn easy

when I’m alone

to picture

him loving you

 

wondering why

I am not the one

who gets told

I am too easy to talk to

 

maybe

I’ve answered now

why you are the magnet

and I am the poison

 

I curl myself around you

I’m sorry

I keep trying

I will never be enough

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 10/31/17

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Gambling

 

A spectre exhales in the empty casino.

Binary digits caught in the corner of the eye,

F R  A   G   M EN  TS of a past regretted,

Compression of a future long gone.

 

A profile stalked in the mind, and the twist in the gut that kept it there.

 

A reminder of desperation,

An echo of obsession.

 

In a moment the world falls apart and a penitent psyche fractures into a formula of whimpers,

3.14 with hopelessness recurring in clenched digits that beat ineffectually at an immutable equation.

New faces and old friends scroll alike behind the dank glass of a solitary fruit machine,

Never double, never triple, never four, nevermore,


Always her.


Four in a row of a scowling face that once smiled back when the machine was new.

 

No lights flash.

 

No jackpot sounds.

 

No coins paid out.


Just the solitary clunk of faces that refuse to settle, juddering in and out of position.


Clunk.


Click. 

 

Click.

 

I sigh and insert another coin.

 

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Spend

Folder: 
2017

I still hear the echo

of that time I said this is my heart.

 

I still hear the rush

and the pounding I won’t ever tire of.

 

I still spend money

and hours I can’t help but count.

 

I still feel more than I would like

and toss myself into hallways

 

and drown in crowds

with too many faces I will never know

 

the problem with separating my eggs

is carrying all the baskets.

 

I am choosing

these baskets

I am hooking them

over every inch of me

until I drag like I’m made of stone.

 

When I think I taste bitter

your eyes tell me you’re worth it.

 

We are all just looking for people

we won’t regret spending time on.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 9/29/17

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The Bouttonniere and Corsage

Folder: 
Poems

I'm walking by a place,

A place that has lost its reason to walk by.

Now I look at it with a somber face and a heavy heart.

I do recall the times i was here,

the joy and cause I had to visit here.

But its not those reasons that make me low.

Not the nostolgiac talks or even the cause of the past that weighs on my soul.

It is the joy of then, and lack of it now that brings me low.

The smiles that were, the smiles that aren't and smiles that could have been

The smiles that could have been.

 

Now instead I walk falsely,

to make light of what weighs heavy.

To make light of what weighs heavy.

I hold my head a little higher, stand a little straighter,

work a little harder; work a little too hard.

Joke a little more, laugh a little louder and smile,

Smile a little too much.

To make light of what weighs heavy at the place I'm walking by.