I want to write for you what I had promised,
I want to write for you of that dream.
I want to pour my heart into my words for you,
But I can’t pour meaning from a vacant vessel;
The vessel that I gave up when I foolishly lost you.
- Anne Boleyn (via larmoyante)
Forget it, ok?
Forget me; us, the past; then.
Sometimes I don’t care.
I annoy myself
In my existence, every
Day, yet underneath
You started a joke, and that joke was loving me.
The whole world started crying because it couldn’t be.
I now realise how quickly those tears turned to laughter,
and how I might have went on seeing hope for ever, ever after.
Roses are red,
Violets are blue;
You live in Michigan
But I still love you.
I belong to you by Lauren O’connell
I incorporated some of the lyrics to this song into an incorporation poem a few weeks ago, but I can’t get myself to post it, because it might just be one of the most significant things in relation to the situation that I have produced.
Its cold outside and the snow’s been falling
But wherever I look I hear your voice calling.
You whisper in my ear, you pull on my hair,
You fix me with a melted brown stare.
I’m not used to this, sitting here feeling all grown up,
Moisture in my eyes as my heart swells up.
Hair tousled around my head,
Crumpled sheets on my teenage bed.
Knees tucked against the desk,
Untouched Fs with a place on my chest.
Words left unsaid that rest on my tongue;
I know if I start I’ll wish I hadn’t begun.
They burst and they pop,
Climbing the stairs, I want to scream at the top.
I want us to be evergreen,
Not a just a dream like it has been.
I want to be beautiful to only you,
I want you to have my body, too.
This, such a strong desire to share my blushed red skin,
And only you I want to let in.
I no longer long for an exotic capture,
All I need is your rapture -
In the sun, by a lake
Just smiling for our own sake.
I’ll wait if need be,
Maybe one day you’ll find a way to me,
Crossing such a long way across the water,
Make this suffocating gap a little shorter,
Turn me on with your arms, bare,
Grasp my wrists in your warm Cuban snare,
Whisper to me in your accent, mellow,
Lay me down on a feathered pillow.
Talk to me sleep with your knowledge and sense,
Maybe this will happen, some time hence.
I’ll still wait.
Lightness at the end of darkness;
A hand reaches down into the nest.
It pulls at the memories, the good ones, from where they rest,
Pushing into the past and dreaming up a new cast for the future.
A rescue starts unknown,
In a primary school, age six,
You where there for me,
Whenever they threw sticks.
Sticks turn inside out and my insides twisted too,
But one thing was always constant -
That thing took the shape of you.
An eagle, an owl, a bat,
A friend, a sister, all of that.
A summer, a week,
I thank you for the fact that you stayed.
I am grateful that you’re never hateful,
You’re honest and you’re true.
My best friend,
Both the hand and the light were you.