Five candles on a Thursday

Feeling excluded from
my own life
flirting with
mental illness
through electronic devices

depressing
rhythm and poetry
speakers declaring clearly
my mood to
the inhabitants of my room
me

alone
as you are not here
and it is unlikely
that you will ever return
to the us that we failed
only experienced
in summer dreams
soon forgotten
by anybody but me
is my fear

keyboard not able
to encapsulate that
which is inside me
only you could
though broken and
damaged
your scarred soul
soothed me
perfectly
felt at home in us

but showed it too
slowly
a year too late
broken now
like the pottery i throw
in my mind

My body wont do without you

My brain can’t beat without you,
my heart can’t breathe all alone.
My lungs can’t think without you,
and slowly my love turns to stone.

And my eyes can’t speak without you,
my legs wont spell your name.
My mouth is blind without you,
as my walk is stopped by shame.

Does colour mark your love?

I’ve always preferred
brunettes, skinny, with wild hair,
full lips and fuzzy eyebrows.

And yet I always seem to
be in relationships with blond girls,
with thin lips and thinner eyebrows.

Perhaps then,
it is no wonder,
that I am always on the hunt,
always ready to pounce,
and always tempted,

when I try to find happiness,
with the opposite of what I long for.

Or,
perhaps,
It’s just because,
I’m always trying,
to regain that first love,
of my youth.

With a brunette, who was skinny,
had wild hair, full lips,
and fuzzy eyebrows.

Love at Weddings, and scary mornings

Most weddings starts with joy
but this one was filled with stress and smiles.
They got married, but we were coy,
on drunken love, we walked for miles,
a broken mess of laughs and smiles.

And it could have ended there,
for you and me,
our youthful lives, and careless ways,
snuffed out in a summer night,
by a daughter we never knew.
Perhaps it would have been for the better,
to light it all ablaze.

But we evaded the bullet, and fell apart instead,
jealousy and sex, bitterness and regret.
We never did paint a pretty picture,
though not from lack of heart.

We were awesome in the old fashioned sense,
don’t you ever forget.

Perhaps it would have been for the better,
to light it all ablaze.

Gibbard's been mouring you

I had a dream about you this night
long and vivid.
Reddish hair enticing me,
slender fingers embracing
the flirtatious nature of my being.
Long wiled plans
for impulsive manipulation,
you strung me along
on pretences of friendship and nothing more,
spinning your web of lustful romance.
Urges rising to the fore,
needs for lips to meet almost palpable,
I love you, but i do not truly know you,
and I think you feel the same,
even if we only speak in these dreams of mine.
And we never meet, not even in social skirmishes,
not since drunken blunders and half mistakes,
maybe mischiefs of late night conquerings.

I woke up,
just before the blissful encounter
that I suspect I may already have
experienced, but stored away
in drunken denial
because your lips have been calling me,
closer for years on end,
and in a party stupor,
I don't think I could deny you.
But dreams give hope to wishes,
that would soon forget.