Do something. Be someone

Trust and believe when I say I completely understand right now

We said we would go the distance

Even though we were split by the distance.

We would make an exception for our instance.

For our young love there will be no resistance.

******

We knew eachother more than we cared to admit.

So our arguments were only supposed to fleet.

But even when we were seperated by mere streets,

Our true heart desires were kept secret.

******

Our heart was wrapped in bed linen and sheets.

At the sight of love we would both scream ‘RETREAT!’

The games our heart played were a real treat.

Till we had to face the facts of our defeat.

******

But I’ve been away too long.

It turns out, apart, we aren’t so strong.

A part of me dearly wishes I was wrong.

But mostly, I’m just ready to say, so long.

When I cry you must let me be.

I cry for what we could be; for you and me.

Because while we were close we couldn’t make it work

We weren’t ‘US’ long enough to prepare for this fork

In our road. On the morning I was keaving it finally dawned

That we would have to make it work across a giant pond.

What wouldn’t work under street lamps, in that small square room,

Or across narrow streets, has taken to sea. This surely spells doom!

I’m hopeful and I’m waiting and I’m trusting.

I’m scared and I’m scared and I’m scared.

I have been writing since I was a child, and I can confidently say it is ALL that keeps me sane some days. I thank God for the gift of words.

Have you heard my dirty laughter?
No not that kind…
I have perfected it, really.
Yet it remains a source of shame to all other sound bites
That have and will escape my voice box.
From embarrassing whimpers
To unprecedented snorts as a result of belly laughs;
I have shamed them all.

This laughter that is a mask
For tears, heartbreak, nerves, hunger, anger, disgust,
dissatisfaction, hatred, lies, fear and distrust.
It has marked me.
It scratches the roof of my mouth
And the surface of my tongue on its way out.
It chokes and chortles as it holds on to my windpipe
As I push it out.

My dirty laughter hides the truth from me,
Me from the truth;
The world from me,
Me from the world.
And now I do not know. and neither does the world.
Who can tell the difference between my dirty laughter
And my real one?
Not I, good sir. Not I.

Fourteen years since six years old.

I cried back then; now I’ll cry some more.

Please take me back. The years have been by so fast.

I’m forgetting the memories of Christmas past.

Beautiful free verse of my youth run freely of the paper

Structureless, ruleless going till it stops

Abrupt; Caesura-less in the middle of a page

without care or worry

No fears no reason to be sorry

No meters to be watchful of

My ink runs out of breath

******

This is but a clumsy shadow of a former self.

This is a false reflection of the fromer freedom

of this pen and this paper

******

Who am i lying to?

These thoughts are consciously dominated by ideologies now.

Rhythm and Rhyme have replaced

Youthfulness and Innocence. Everything else is a crime.

The freedom I alluded to once is all but gone.

I tasted structure and was disgusted

yet I have returned.

fallinlovewithmyimperfections:

 When that moment of desperation comes, I WILL be using this!!

 I LOVE THIS!!!!!