One year, seven months later; the clocks have stopped moving. I sit and stare and contemplate, but nothing makes sense, no matter how much I think about it.
i don't bother with sticks anymore,
i rather prefer the stones; hard candy light and your face glaring into the window pane. i wanted but a single scoop of your mind, just a thought, a fragment, a anything.
i stumbled across my fingers, daintily playing on your stomach. what was mine, was mine, was mine. and you had all of me, so what did i have?
you bumped me to the back of the line and i sat there, staring through the wall and wondering what i had done wrong.
my soul doesn't sing anymore; these coffee grinds leave my mouth with a taste like [you] and i can't escape any longer. i told you i wanted to be invisible, that i wanted to be lost, forever. i told you i wanted people to walk right by me, and not even notice me standing there. i warned you that i was horrible, that i would scar you and break you, and then destroy myself for disappointing again. that scraping feeling in the back of my throat tears me in two and i feel alone , if just for a minute.
i stand, watching the scales tip and my eyes begin to dry. the water in them has been forced out too many times, and now i can only close them for fear they will crack open and i will have nothing, nothing left. you find out that i have walked too far, and the scab inside you peels back again. to everything that i've erased, and shoved behind my band aids, to the 3 AM phone calls, the toilet, the sink, the box in the bathroom. to the notebooks shoved inside the walls of my closet, to the packs of marlboro reds scattered under my bed, the empty vodka, wine, whiskey, bottles behind my door, dirty clothes and things i never meant to keep, a box of ticket stubs and books that i'll read over and over again until my eyes hurt, just because they remind me of you. the mixed cds, the ones i made after you left, before you left, and when you hadn't even thought of leaving. to-go coffee mugs and cans of red bull with the tabs pulled off, to the socks that litter my floor like a second rug, the shoes hanging from my closet ceiling and your face, plastered on every available space that only i can see.
i hide so many things behind these unwilling hands, and so the cliche is true; and i do not want you to know what i really feel, for fear you will not understand.
i do nothing of what i say that i will do, and i only pretend to miss you; for how can you miss a ghost?
[#15-let this go]
Author notes
i don't know what this is.
but it is probably the best of me that there is at this point.
i'm sorry it's not better.
too early, not enough caffeine, writers block, and well...just life block. :/
to note, i didn't edit this at all. i just wrote, and didn't re-read or look back or take anything out...so it's probably about the worst poem in this contest
haha,
good luck to everyone else.<33
In a list
A contest entry
- the best of you. by petrichor.
700 points, ended March 8, 2008, 15 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
alkshdlakhadasd.
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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this is sad darling =[
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this is good.
i think it's bad that you didn't go back and edit it or whatever, i mean you still have the time. but that doesn't doubt that i think it's an amazing piece, just seems a bit lazy in my opinion
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i liked the third paragraph the best, because I can relate to it so well, it really pulls on your heart strings. i liked the feeling of array and discarded objects in the fourth paragraph, usally people just make it cliche but you didn't over do it and i thought it worked really well.
very good images in here.
<33
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i know it may seem...lazy, but that's how i wanted to write it.
i just wanted to see if i could write from nothing and have it come out as...well, something.
we'll see
good luck judging, i read some other entries and i know it won't be easy, there are so many talented pieces in this contest.
have fun!
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Really sad and beautiful, sheer honesty.
This is abolutly amazing sweetheart.
Much love.
x
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dude. pleasssse be kind and shh ! how can you say this is the worst poem??
you need to read this; all the description and heartache are unique and just... i dont know. you knocked the words right out of my head & onto here & im totally telling you that you've got the most beautiful mind on this site.
ily bby
♥
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what are you talking about!? this is amazing dear. I could feel it all coming through each word. baby, I loved it!
and could relate oh so well...
"the mixed cds, the ones i made after you left, before you left, and when you hadn't even thought of leaving. to-go coffee mugs and cans of red bull with the tabs pulled off, to the socks that litter my floor like a second rug, the shoes hanging from my closet ceiling and your face, plastered on every available space that only i can see.
i hide so many things behind these unwilling hands, and so the cliche is true; and i do not want you to know what i really feel, for fear you will not understand.
i do nothing of what i say that i will do, and i only pretend to miss you; for how can you miss a ghost?"
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