I am tired of pretending I am okay
Drinking until I can't feel
So numb I don't believe life is real
You and I were summer rain
Pure with every intention, lost in every reflection
Understanding every misunderstanding
Every misconception and every game of discreet love
Sheets of fluttering madness
I buried the past and now I can't wash away the dirt
I hold my thoughts in empty hands
So bare, fruit when it rots to the pulp
They were so hopeless and empty
So hopeless and empty
Then I felt the heavy shudder of life
Thoughts weighing me down
I drink the milk of your love, moon spilling
Come back to me, I owe you
Drapes of bitter seed
I never liked how your lies tasted
I had to spit the truth out for my own good
For so long I felt nothing
No rapture, no bliss, breathing a nameless pain
It was by chance I found hope in a river of dreams
And I woke to see the sun rise, meeting the orange horizon
Pink flushing cheeks and paper cuts
I had to survive your lies
The agnostic bell-like waves in my ears
Words I can't bare to hear
I only ever wanted us to win
I couldn't surrender, you know how stubborn I am
With steel teeth and an unmoving mind
You know I have reason to talk, but you make me feel cheap
So I brimmed with, not so much hate, but a certain resentment
Delicate, I found it overwhelming
I spilled from my judgement, the part of my mind
Which knows right from wrong
And I know I said some things I regret
But I still love you, that kind of love is unconditional
We love the good parts and learn to accept the reality
We can't always have our way
We make compromises and appreciate the moment
In monologues and ultimatums
False promises of changing for the better
When we are no better than we were yesterday
Because there's always another moon and sun
And that kind of love is unconditional
Because there's always another moon and sun
There's always another moon and sun.
- Author: Jordan Cash (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: July 19th, 2021 18:16
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 21
Comments1
It is both beautiful and frightful that dark experiences, or at least the imagining or recollection of them, commands so much of your work. I think I'm looking forward (for your own good?) to you actually BEING OK. You are an enigma in the best sense of the word. But don't stop moving forward.
It's not necessarily that I don't have happy times or moments, it's more just that I find it cathartic writing about the blueness of life. Just have to get it out of my system, I guess. X
I hoped so... needed reassurance... I guess. (-:
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.