please cut the fucking grass Poem, by tyler wyatt, at My poetic side

even the money can’t buy this feeling

it’s getter rarer by the day

and with each passing hour

my bones beg to be stroked

by someone willing to pour out their love

sweet water in the vase of my heart,

needs filling before it cracks

and if it shatters it will cut me apart

until i bleed the colour that i crave

that same flavour from when i was 16

but without the sour aftertaste

i don’t know if im capable

i’m able to fall easy but let go as fast

i don’t know if im able

i’m wanting to bite more

not willing to put up a fight anymore

on the days where darkness comes to play

within the fields that have overgrown

i’ve been meaning to cut the grass

for i can’t see what’s hidden around me.

Comments +

pearlsofdew22 January 29th, 2022 05:12
Lovely words
Paul Bell January 29th, 2022 05:42
So, once the grass is cut, and you can see the woods for the trees, I foresee good times ahead. Now, just to find someone to cut the fucking grass.

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please cut the fucking grass