PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I asked you once to just come cuddling,
but you didn't believe in all my muddling.
And who can blame you when I am
the self-destructed on command.
But I meant it then, and maybe soon
you won't hate what I am turning to.
I'm drowning in my sad and sorry,
with head beneath the sleek and starry
cascading solar plexus known
to only those who've sank below.
But given time that's going by,
I want to emerge and deify
my living self to all who'll stand
and deliver hands to my own hand.

But before all that there was just you.
You were the muse that I abused.
You tantalized and brought me through
with your sun tan shining and verbose too.
I wanted to just dive in depths
and dig myself as we both wept,
but you had seen for better yet,
at least there was the time we'd spent.
And you would not perform for me
unless I'd ask so nicely,
because down deep you had enjoyed
the things we did, the way we toyed
with the thought of lasting for some years,
awash in fog on your windshield.
I grasped your hips and held on firm
as you would observe and squirm,
complaining and convulsing forth,
issuing an order toward
a barren strait where I'd laid down
my laiden craft and dressing gown
with tassles matched upon the cap,
now caked with dirt and mobile scrap.
And when I turned to snort and sneer,
I saw you as you disappeared.

Yet you deserve a lover's song,
though we weren't in love for long.
But my fingers don't have much to give
so you'll just have to live with this:
this shuffling of my flaunted words
that leaves us both so undisturbed,
but conveys a sense of love and loss
that tosses with my every thought.
Maybe it's just the loneliness,
but I'm lost in odes to my distress
and wishing for a sweet new vine
to yield the grapes of soul divine.
But I'll keep a hold on the maps I made
while exploring you and your terrain,
and melt myself with memory
while you find a replacement for me.