creative writing, poetry, poets, Uncategorized, writing

Her.

 For the first time my feelings fight for it-

the yellow light burning out

where the lines of my world meet

where the colour hurts.

It’s like a weird love that never died

It keeps me awake when I breathe

and all I need is

a hand to stop the slamming ache

curved into a wild blackness.

As my eyes stop me from sleeping

I think

No boy is a band aid to this

no empty space on the pew

of some alien dwelling.

No.

I do this the only way I know how

and pardon me for doing so.

But she is saintly

As she is honey

And every time I catch her

I get this sticky sweet

Lump in the back of my throat.

Maybe that’s not so bad

when after years of futility

and meaningless kisses

in bathroom stalls

Her mind is a thunderstorm

A hurricane

That sweeps me up in its current

Until I am gasping.

The world continues its ignorance

But all I can think about is

Her loveliness

My heart cries

With her blinding brilliance.

Tell me

How do I ever get over that?

 

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