PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

She tells me stories of spectacular sunsets on the southside of Chicago

Silhouttes and shadows of citizens showcasing subtle signs of satisfaction on the suburbia streets

She scribbles me scripts of how hard the breeze seems to blow

When the Windy City whispers my name and knocks her off of her feet

She sighs sweet sounds of salvation through her telephone and the long distance lines and eventually into my ear

But all she always hears is static as an expected and repeative reply

Even if I were to sever the stiches in my lips and spill out a sentence, the only thing she would ever hear

Is the lone wolf's corrupted and contagious battlecry



I convert my body into a makeshift map for the world to see

My veins are the streets and I tragically trace the route to redemption with a rusty razorblade

The rainstorm in my head would spontaneously transform into a rainbow if only you could somehow forever be with me

But the scars of my suffering and solitude will never be completely concealed or fully fade

I hope youre smiling, because i've done nothing but frown and drown in my own tears ever since reality began to sink in

While I was desperately attempting to discover the Heavenly highway to your heart

In this grotesque game of love, the underdog never manages to win

And the distance of those two dots on the maps are linking us together, yet drifting us further apart



...and the maps, and the maps, and the maps…



He tells me tales of New England Autumn leaves crunching below his feet

The beauty before the blizzard and the calm before the storm at sea

He types me thoughts of how fast his fragile heart seems to beat

When I take a lushous bite from the Big Apple and devour the distance between him and me

He screams silent sounds of surrender through the stitches and the static of the city streets and eventually straight into my soul

But all I ever hear is the clear and candescent conversations of a caged bird attempting to sing

Our future and fate is at stake as the diabolical dice I will determine to roll

While doing my best to help this delicate dove repair his broken wing



I make make my house a museum of modern art, using the maps as wallpaper for only my eyes to see

My front door is the gateway to our future, you dont even have to knock when you finally decide to come on through

This town of turmoil would be trauquil tomorrow if only you could somehow forever be with me

I'm patiently waiting on the streets saturated with serpents and sinners...saving myself only for you

I hope you're smiling, because someone loves you very much a thousand miles away

So turn that frown upside down, and welcome in the sunny weather

In your head it's always merely another day, another shade of gray, but the darkhorse can overcome and claim victory today

Because the lines we trace on these maps manage to bring us just inches apart and much closer together



...and the maps, and the maps, and the maps...



So here I am again...a noose around my neck, asking the girl controling my fate if she will sever the string or continue to pretend i'm her poetic puppet

(So here i am again...my heart in my hands, asking the man that has me on a string if i can be his mistress of a marienette?)



(And i hope you're smiling somewhere inside your head, because I cannot wait for our dreams to take off for flight)

And I hope youre smiling somewhere in Chicago, because im shedding a tsunami of toxic tears into the Atlantic Ocean tonight