PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I would tell you to hold on tight, but you'red lying on a waterbed covered in silk sheets. So i'll salute you with good luck and leave you to karma because i remember being left on the bull long past the required 8 seconds...



Then again,

I did get on the bull in the first place. It was my choice. Okay, so i could take up this paper remembering my damned choices but that would just be another damned choice. So let's forget the water bed, silk sheets, and bull rides.



I remember laughing



I remeber my stomach hurting and things being rather funny. I rememebr innocence way better than i remember catastrophe. The world was warm and welcoming and i tried to convince everyone that cold didn't exist...



But i'm a stubborn brick builder. I know what i'm capable of building, but one roomed huts will do for now because i wouldn't want to take on a project i don't feel ready for yet...



He calls me by a different name and i see him in a different retro styled frame. i know that the blacksmith could make such sharper swords! What is he doing?! Wasting his time on cuttlery! But he's afriad of that responsability...



Two cowardes in love, ignoring what they're capable of



Pounding in my ears- what genre am i listening to? Professional painter- you've perfected your sunsets of pastel colors. Your dirty artist fingers reach for the coffee mug, but we all know what you really want. You can't just be satisfied with painting the things you want...



I've seen you wear black to bed. Where do all of your colors go at night? I'm sorry if this comes across as critiquing your heart, but i'ts hard to ignore your smile. You see, i notice how one side curves up with a dimple while the other stays paralzied and i want to inform you that THAT isn't normal. You should get it fixed before it becomes more serious. You could loose your smile forever!



I see that cigarette teetering between your lips as you tell another joke, and the smoke billowing out like poison- oh yeah, it is. Forget the metaphore, because you are as cold as you look. I would know because i've held you...alot. I've tasted the warm liquor on your lips and i've known the lying fold in your eyes. You see, dear boy, that when you smile the wrinkles cornering your eyes are fake...they look like wrinkled up poetry notes instead of ripples of water. Which takes me to the color of your eyes. Yes, their famous brilliance that has every lonely girl wishing you would look her way. Well, watch out mister, because the color is fading. The shades of blue, green, and brown are mixing into a grey fog. Maybe you need to hydrate them with tears or maybe you need to let them hang out to dry. Who am i to know how often you cry?