PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

You are turning fast from flesh to merely a picture in my mind.

Only I can see it, only I can miss you.

Your skin turns into paper in a notebook.

Your blood, ink, flowing black, drying quickly.

Your limbs become pens, your hair, blue lines.

Your lips, your hips, your teeth, your eyes.

They are whatever I choose to paint now in time.

To love or hate now, you're all mine.



I wish, when people looked at my ugliness, they saw you.

They could see your beauty and understand my lonliness,

the reason why I spend most of my life betraying people.

I wish, when I was loving them, craving them, hating them, fucking them, screwing doing filling killing them,

that they could close their eyes, go back in time,

and see your skin so porcelian white,

on the backdrop of these blue swells.  I wish, when I was cutting myself,

going to hell, touching boys I don't know oh so well,

that all the onlookers could run their hands through your hair,

witness your smile, and know how you cared.

Because its all me now.  Its all me to know you.

I can't whip you out from behind my back, say, SEE, this is him,

the one who made me, who killed me, my excuse.

It's all me to know you,

cause no one else will.



I put my hand on your arm as it turns to a halogram.

As you fade, I wave goodbye to the only people who know who I am.

I have to carry that burden, just like you would,

and keep convincing myself that somewhere I'm still good.

Time goes on and your body becomes

the stars, the sound of my guitar,

my tears, my fears, the things you don't know about.

Its all on me.

Its all on me now.