my youngest son runs his fingers through my hair it is long not wavy not straight a thick, dark, gleaming mass of unruly poof but he claims to like the softness and i feel his tiny hands grooming me gentle with love and sweetness these days are short soon he'll be of the age where this will be taboo inappropriate "gross" but right now he is my baby boy loving his mother in the kindest most simplest of ways.
Tag: poetry
Haiku for a fool
Her cries to the sky
Agonizing against
The aching goodbye
Too Much
Brilliant and glowing
A star
A Sun
And you,
blinking,
wandered towards the warmth
the brightness…
this was new
and for a minute
you were happy
But the heat
The sweltering heat
What once soothed
now scorched
What once gave soft light
Now blinded
It was too much of what it was
And not enough of what you wanted
Stars burn until they don’t.
And one
cannot hold jurisdiction over stars.
the rain
it’s raining and i miss you.
i wish you knew how extraordinary a thing that is.
the rain talks to me
softest pit-pat of drops against the glass pane
like
a gang of cats jogging across hot summer pavement
too quick to count
slightly silent
save for the rhythm
a staccato in unison
what a paradox
but it’s singing to me
and i think of you
your voice
(sweet songs kissing my ears)
your words
(drowsy mumbled love notes late at night)
and echos of
your laughter
(the happiest of dreams)
it’s raining and my arms feel empty
(where are you)
my hands restless
(i need to touch you)
the gnawing ache in my stomach
(i am empty)
my body is in a frenzied disparate hunger
one which cannot be easily sated
appeased
quelled
so
alone
i listen to the wind
whipping water
at my window
imagining
it’s you next to me
speaking to me
singing to me
whispering to me
instead of
the rain
Imprisoned
Pouring regrets,
mistakes,
guilt,
into this
rocks glass
*neat please*
it’s the way…
the road
to perdition
a constant
hell
of one’s own making
exoneration
is a
pipe dream
as lucidity fades
culpability
becomes
a
faint tendril
disintegrating into
the dawn
forgiveness
teasing
with the
rising
of the sun
self-delusion
as it
diminishes
returns
to the
blurred
and sloppy
self-loathing
as the
exhaustion
of BEING
becomes a dense,
thickened, hairy
weight
on the
soul
all that is left
for respite
is sleep
only to
repeat
on the morrow
Dominoes
The ones I loved
The ones I wanted
The ones I lusted
All could give a
flying fig
for me
a history of
chasing men
who had been
nothing but
back alley
beggar boys
sneakily dressed
in much
fancier clothing
just
(faintly squint)
a tiny bit
too large
for their
diminutive
frames
all whilst
my woman’s heart,
devotion,
and
hunger
had remained
far more feeling,
staunch,
and ravenous
And like dominoes
I kept queuing
them up
Each had
been
placed
and
balanced,
precariously
forming that tenuous line
of repeated
fowls and
heartaches.
the fickleness
of the foolish
a test of my
patience
Until I
came to realize
this was
far more trouble
than it
was worth
weary sigh
head tilted
my finger gave
the smallest
poke
to the very first
pip
and
The quiet rhythmic
clacking
soothed
the
*click
*click
*click
of each
falling into the
other
closure,
leaving
a flawless
mess…
a pile
of ivory rectangles
pieces
with no
discernible match
Gingerly,
with care
and reverence
I placed each tenderly
within the case
This was a game
I no longer
cared to play.
Final Vice
I rebuilt myself
I kept the good
Dropped
*an anvil thud*
everything else
Almost.
I gave up dairy
and the smokes
the bourbon
at late night dives
the wine
while vacantly
watching
the telly
pisssssing
away
time
No more sweets
snacks
mid-afternoon donuts
as breakfast
and lunch
sometimes dinner
stopped talking
to the sociopathic
ex
listening
to their
false promises
drenched in
candy covered
shit
The Fair weather
friends
Whom I’ve bled for
While they never
broke a sweat
for
me
I let go
of my past
the mistakes
the self-loathing
the doubts
the hammering anxiety
at the weakening
bark
of my being
I did all of this.
*improvement*
*progress*
*growth*
But there’s still you.
lightly
Heavily
subtly
Obviously
Tearing it all apart.
Time Stops For No One
I write to you…
“I am falling apart
My skin
is running loose
Can you see this?
I am getting old and it
is
showing
the lines around my eyes
they are so thin
and fine
the assassins of the
passing years
no longer
hiding
they have
been
adept
bastards
I have been running
running
running
Yet no amount of diversion
is keeping
time’s
patient
and skilled
murderous
taskmasters
at bay”
You read my letter
chuckle lightly
for
my vanity
is amusing
“We All Age”
There is no one
to hear my
whimpering pleas
I wither and wisp away
dust settling
on the
eaves
The Bottom
Drowning
Gasping
Swallowing gulps of
Desolation
I had a life jacket
Ripped it off
Was so
Constricting
It kept me from swimming
Who knew
I just needed to keep afloat
Now
Sinking to
The Depths
Eyes glazing
over
Pulse slowing
Heart faltering
I will never
See
The Sun Rise
or Set
Again
I did this to myself
Love (haiku #39)
Shattered Fragments Of
The Person I Used To Be
Love Isn’t Easy
But Otherwise Fine 