The great sense of passing through...

location: Home

mood: calm

music: Greyhound Bound For Nowhere - Miranda Lambert

I am consumed- sadly
with the thought of you
the things you said
that magic you do...
the way you'd touch my temple
amd kiss my forehead so sweet
It seems so far away now
the way we were back then
when you loved my ears
and I hated the whiskers on your chin
You'd pull my hair then black my eye
but at the end of the night...
all seemed alright.
I wanted to throw myself
down a flight of stairs once
and I remember you said something...
was that the time it was "you complain to much"?
I lived in this hovel
a hollow impersonation of myself
I got so good at being fake
I forgot how to be anything else.
I've paid my pound of flesh
What exactly did I get from you?
Put down, thrown out, used up?
Are those worth the moments you'd reach out and say
'Your ears are the most tiny, perfect things today"
Being alone, it's a scary thing.
Being alone, with no one else there
Part of me knows I'd be facing my greatest fear.
But how to escape, how to get away-
when you're oh so good at promising,
tomorrow will be a better day.

Tags: poetry

Posted at 11:48 pm | Link | Leave a comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend

location: Home

mood: confused

music: What About Georgia - Miranda Lambert

I am torn.
There are things I know to be true
and things I believe to be true
and then there is the hazy ground
where they all meet and nothing makes sense
You are that place
the life that lives in the deepest bone
pieces of me tied forever
to the idea of the had beens
and never coulds.
I'm waiting on a train
to take me from this place
give me back the day
when I could look you in the eye
knowing the truth lost in all the lies
Pieces of you will always be mine
and there is a hole in my heart
that just happens to be your shape 'n size
Our eyes have seen the same disaster
the love torn battle field
filled with teenage angst dirty bombs
and the graffiti coated walls-
a giant X over your name
still scrawled on the half
that is my wounded heart and broken pride
We grow up- leaving innocence
and the battlefield far behind...
we become well adjusted adults
capable of idle small talk about apartments
and the obscene price of foreign oil
Looks never linger long between us
for the fear of we'll see
all the ways we lost track of all the things
we said we'd be...
we just can't face the memory,
the things we've seen
our battle scars hidden by expensive cars
and diamond rings, we are not the Revolution...
We've become our own worst enemy.
So take my hand and we'll run real fast
down to the creek bed to wash away
the years in between goodbye and hello again
be reborn on that rivers edge
my soul comes squeaky pinky clean
with the way those green eyes look at me
And I'm sixteen again, in love and wild
with my hair in my face and laughter on my lips...
If only it were that easy to go back again-
but you've got your life
and I've got mine
and our time is lost somewhere in space-
where wildflowers grow...
and forever never fades to yesterday.

Tags: poetry, verbal vomit

Posted at 11:46 pm | Link | Leave a comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend

location: Home

mood: contemplative

music: Our Song - Taylor Swift

First love fades to shaky shades of gray
but does it ever really leave?
When I sit here laughing,
sharing the joke and names we held so dear
theres a flicker of that flame-
and though it burned me a million times
I'm drawn like a moth to candle light
the way your voice unwinds something
hidden, pent up, and denied for so long.
I see you, every inch of your perfect imperfection
and I forget the pain, forget how to place the blame
We said it best today,
we've seen the death of the dream...
But in the embers something burns
something nameless- though not all together painless.
I just want to understand.
How long can we do this dance?
I'm not getting any younger-
and you've got two left sweetly fumbling feet
Is it the safety net I'm wanting back?
Or do the love lights still linger
between two battered hearts that never knew better...
My heart beats in time to this rhythm I can't explain
my limbs aching in that familiar way
Tears bubble in dark eyes, there isn't exactly a reason why
Why didn't you come back when I was on my own two feet-
sure of the places I was going and knowing all I wanted?
Why are you here now, when I'm torn between homes-
and the idea of all that might have been
with our bittersweet broken love affair.
First love fades to shaky shades of gray
but does it ever really go away?
Tags: poetry

Tags: confused love, poetry

Posted at 11:42 pm | Link | Leave a comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend

location: Home

mood: awake

music: Loose Lips - Kimya Dawson

“Tell me everything, soup to nuts”
you say it simply, sweetly
as I fold myself into your arms
and let the tears come,
rosy cheeks streaking black
I let down my defenses
I tell you all the things-
the things I never let myself say.
The heartache pours out of me
and it puddles on the floor-
smelling like whiskey and
old James Dean movies.

You were my answer to everything
You were my heartbeat-
the breath that leaves my body,
as you kiss me dizzy
under starlight...
Your hands around my throat
The parasitical pedestal of perfection
I dangle from, you leave me to choke-
on all the things I’ll never be
and even when I let myself believe
you weren’t the nightmare
you always turn out to be

Things are always better in my memory,
with your slick backed hair-
and that stupid skinny tie,
your lips on my skin, cover me in lies
turns into all the ways I let you down
all the times I wasn’t around.
Zombie girlfriend, fried on the inside
trapped like a worm at the bottom of a bottle
tipsy and sick, my wrists I slit-
all to make you happy
all to find a way to make yesterday
the better day- it can’t ever be

Tell me I’m good
Tell me I’m great
Tell me anything-
give me one more chance
to just stare at your face.
Tell me you love me
Tell me I’m wise
Tell me I’m ok-
at least most of the time
validate me, even with the lies
Just tell me every thing-
from soup to nuts.

Tags: poetry, verbal vomit

Posted at 11:34 pm | Link | Leave a comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend

location: Home

mood: stressed

music: Back to Black - Amy Whinehouse

‘I love you’ he says
‘It's good to know someone does.’
It’s half of my reply, the other part dying in my lungs
‘I seem to be going through friends like cigarette butts.’
‘I’ll always be here, you know’ she promises
‘It’s all fucking lies’
My traitor heart cries, keeping me hostage-
to a loneliness that settles in my bones
and keeps me from the people loving me most
‘Have faith, hold it tight,’ my hypocritical self claims
What do I know about faith?
I’m the one who coined ‘hope is the drug they feed us’
it was my signature tagline, tattooed on my heart
too tender from loving wrong and living inside
self loathing found at the bottom of a vodka bottle
and a half pack of cigarettes.

Tags: poetry

Posted at 11:31 pm | Link | Leave a comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend