PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Goddard’s Song

How he came around at

the time of French new wave 

and was doing stuff like Luis Bunuel or even with elements 

of Stanley Kubrick

.

Weekend- a movie you could 

just listen to, 

regardless of whether or not 

you understood that dialect of French 

.

One of the great reasons I fell in my love with my ex-wife 

was her appreciation for French new wave and 60’s pop

 The way she’d dance with me, like a David Lynch character…

starving to be appreciated fully, 

lost in some 

personal, perpetual mythos,

I shouldn’t understand,

and how I didn’t…

for awhile. 

.

Until her mythos became our relationship,

and then the relationship became the marriage,

Which became our inevitable downfall. 

.

Life is a persistent, progressive 

Series of stories we tell others

To remember,

that despite loss,

we are always alive.

.

I will never forget her,

And she will always remain infamous.

…at least in my mind, if nobody else’s

.

I can’t forgive all the things that I did,

But I hope possibly

She forgives me.

.

I’m a deadhearted lying escapist,

But she already knows that anyway, so it’s pointless to repeat this.

.

I wrote this poem 

because I finally feel alive again 

And I just want her to understand. 

When I was with her,

 I was never a true man…

I was just full of fear and self-hatred. 

A poorly cobbled together shoe.

A show of how the evil in the world

Is always insecure and selfish men.

We’re lost at sea, in the slightest breeze. 

A hazy retelling of what is truly that we see.

.

I haven’t stopped thinking of you for the last two years and 

it makes feel me like a ghost,

Some days.

.

I’ve been doing so much to better myself 

and regardless, if you don’t care,

I just wanted to say:

Thank

You

For 

Every 

Thing 

You 

Did 

That

Made 

Me. 

& I really hope you’re living out there

With someone who cultivates your soul

& listens to your every last laugh.

.

If we never speak again, please understand in retrospect

I realize what it is I’m missing. 

I’m missing. 

Like a child on a milk carton.

Please don’t mistake this as disrespecting.

-to Poopy