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Conjolted Poetry

Conjolted Poetry

Friday, 15 January 2016

Catastrophic nostalgic

Catastrophic nostalgic

I burned our Polaroids 'cause am annoyed.
They are nothing but hurtful memories.
Even if joyous to my mind they leave me void.
So in need of filling I try talking to God,
but it seems I keep rambling to myself,
yet to no end you're hanging out in my brain.
You've been everywhere except with me,
at the back of my mind buzzing like a bee,
at the front of it too cause it's clear to see,
you left misery on the frown of my face;
I am now a dramatic open book,
in which you were cast in the past,
so I stay up all night busy reminiscing.
I try to sleep but have insomnia,
I hate to sleep for I have a phobia,
I fear to be alone in the bed were we laid-
so instead, I sit here nostalgic.

Like a bottle brush leaf off of its tree,
staring at the ground
as my mind unspools our history.

You'd be sipping on some tea,
as I make jokes of strange things,
that make your chest bubble-
because of your hearty laugh.

I'd be staring at you like an owl;
as if you owe me a cunning smile,
yet it's just that you drive me wild-
every time I ogle at your beauty.

Or maybe my head would be on your thigh,
softer than feather pillow,
warmer than bear fur,
and I'd be there in silence muted by bliss.

Ayeh, without warning you had to leave...

I'm hoping somewhere out in heaven,
there's a place for me by your side.
We sailed many tides in trying times,
fell to the depth of the sea and drowned,
but always woke up in the sand by shore.

You were callous to my inhumane ways,
I strayed like a dog,  my mind was callow,
but I gave you my word and strove,
to keep my libido on its four paws,
so when I'd walk out our door, It'd stay!

That issue wasn't your trust in me,
the issue was death in our midst,
it stalked you every night-
like a dark knight baring black roses,
to hand over to you if you fell for it.

Alas you did and like disease-
to my heart it brought burden,
for no matter how many roses,
I picked for you from my garden,
that pricked my fragile hands,
and made me catcall in pain;
you left! You left a rotting heart...

And the thought of this all,
as you sit before me now,
drives me out of my mind,
and makes me pray and wish
that when death "actually" comes,
running against our clocks
that tick and tock in finality-
they stop at the same time...

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