Rules: Be honest. If you have a critique post it. When your done post your poem. It does not have to be your own, it can just be your favorite poem. I'll go first
You remember when I told that I’d not be growing older
And the curtains on my window kept the days from coming
My spine is fixed to the bed in knotted twine-
And oak where you spoke my name-
I creep in stone fixtures at the bottom of the stairs
I sing in broken melodies to moths inside your hair
But still the days grow shorter
As I speak like a child, with my ears pointed at the door
Like a cat at the lap of his master,
Searching for a noise I cannot catch
Smokestack butterflies caught in my throat
Tangled in pink webs of blood
Hung like wings upon your coat.
You can take what I leave
For I don’t need a piece
The fallen leaves are curled upon the porch
And my broken throat is dried and parched
My voice is ripped across the roof and hanging
Ever closer to the floor
You can go if you need
I won’t follow where you lead
The lines in the sand
And the footprints in the mud
Are drawn to this door, and no longer
And where the garden used to grow my tiny fists now slumber
And the stones upon the pond are breaths I never took;
Fires I never doused from your porcelain head
I can’t be bothered to think about the things I never thought
Pushed through the windmill
Down the stairs
Into an apparition’s maw
Slowly tumbling and caught-
Pierced with requisite fear
With every breath I drew
Picked the apple far too early
And now it’s turning blue
I don’t remember where you live anymore
And yet I feel drawn to the lamp on your porch
Even when I don’t believe in you, I can still feel you
That chills beneath my bones, it kills my thoughts
I’ve stared down the sun until it left my sight
And the night was cold and black- but still
I’ve shouted cold blood at the moon
And spit my lungs in dismissal
Yet still the morning tells me that it’s time to go to sleep
That it could tie me to a leash
But never really keep me
I don’t walk through the snow in my head
I float over it
I don’t try to find your house anymore
And the streets are emptier than my hands
My eyes are never open
And I never understand
Why relationships in life are such a bore.
You remember when I told that I’d not be growing older
And the curtains on my window kept the days from coming
My spine is fixed to the bed in knotted twine-
And oak where you spoke my name-
I creep in stone fixtures at the bottom of the stairs
I sing in broken melodies to moths inside your hair
But still the days grow shorter
As I speak like a child, with my ears pointed at the door
Like a cat at the lap of his master,
Searching for a noise I cannot catch
Smokestack butterflies caught in my throat
Tangled in pink webs of blood
Hung like wings upon your coat.
You can take what I leave
For I don’t need a piece
The fallen leaves are curled upon the porch
And my broken throat is dried and parched
My voice is ripped across the roof and hanging
Ever closer to the floor
You can go if you need
I won’t follow where you lead
The lines in the sand
And the footprints in the mud
Are drawn to this door, and no longer
And where the garden used to grow my tiny fists now slumber
And the stones upon the pond are breaths I never took;
Fires I never doused from your porcelain head
I can’t be bothered to think about the things I never thought
Pushed through the windmill
Down the stairs
Into an apparition’s maw
Slowly tumbling and caught-
Pierced with requisite fear
With every breath I drew
Picked the apple far too early
And now it’s turning blue
I don’t remember where you live anymore
And yet I feel drawn to the lamp on your porch
Even when I don’t believe in you, I can still feel you
That chills beneath my bones, it kills my thoughts
I’ve stared down the sun until it left my sight
And the night was cold and black- but still
I’ve shouted cold blood at the moon
And spit my lungs in dismissal
Yet still the morning tells me that it’s time to go to sleep
That it could tie me to a leash
But never really keep me
I don’t walk through the snow in my head
I float over it
I don’t try to find your house anymore
And the streets are emptier than my hands
My eyes are never open
And I never understand
Why relationships in life are such a bore.