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Tag Archives: Broken

If Not You, Heart, Who Else Should I Believe?

April 28, 2021
Creative Writing, Poetry
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I’m fairly confident that my heart is in fact an idiot.

My friends tell me to follow it, that it won’t lead me astray,

But boy would I beg to differ; my heart is a drunkard,

And if I heed its word one more time I may never recover.

The last time I succumbed to its siren song,

I wound up drinking malbec wine in a Mexican restaurant at noon.

Not to say the food wasn’t good, but when you play, Volver, Volver

A half dozen times on the barely functioning jukebox,

as you savor the last drops of glass number four,

it’s safe to say you’ve reached the lowest of lows.

At least from there I had nowhere else to go,

but up… until my heart had something else to say.

Depth Charge

April 16, 2015
Creative Writing, Poetry
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O this ache has found new depths

Burrowing deeper with every second

Spent in exile from your caress.

I haven’t a clue if I have spoken

Out of term, or have I broken

Some trust you thought I’d earned?

O how I wish you’d tell me dear,

Why it is you refuse to come near,

When just days before,

On our warm golden shore,

We drank the stars to our delight

Until the pale silver light,

Of a full moon bathed your skin

In an ethereal glow.

O how I wish you’d come back

To the ways of yesterday

O how I wish, how I wish…

Before I fall too far, away from you

Before the weight of loneliness,

Implodes, rending my heart in two.

Chain Reaction

January 13, 2015
Creative Writing, Poetry
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The ache he feels spreads to his fingertips

From the core of a beating crimson heart,

It eats away at him from the inside.

Rapidly expanding like a sheet of ice.

When time and time again he fails

And time and time again he tries

His heart, a broken furnace, seized mid-rhyme

As icicle thoughts plunge through gray matter

And limbs lose momentum with each stride,

The life he once knew, never seemed further

Or more difficult to hide.

Depression

November 26, 2014
Creative Writing, The Pointless Posts
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When you see yourself through the distorted lens of depression, you have trouble recognizing your own reflection. You can’t see the seam separating your normal self from the irrational being that calls you its host, and shows none of the courtesies a guest should uphold. The lines blur, and all that’s left is a pain that washes over your heart like a malevolent wave lapping upon your withered soul; a pulsating ache that ebbs with the ever-changing tide of humanity.

The Absurd

October 31, 2014
Creative Writing, Poetry
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It would be unwise to decipher the ache in his heart.

So much so that he truly believes

If he were to dig down into the depths

To recall the origin of that wretched,

unwelcome, drowning sensation,

He would no longer have the strength

To climb out of that pitch black hole.

That he may be forced along Dante’s path

With no guide nor God to lead him safely.

For within those depths he will plunge, and

The path of the absurd waits hungrily at the crossroad.

Hindsight’s Never Been So Blind

October 12, 2014
Creative Writing, Poetry
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Do I recite the name in hopes it will bring back that old sensation

When hope was in the air, and just that word could reincarnate

Every bit of splendor that we shared?

No.

All that’s left is the smudge in hindsight

The blur that fights for recognition,

When I’d really prefer,

It stay no more, or no less, than a tiny, insignificant blur

Reality Check

September 23, 2014
The Pointless Posts
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It saddens me that in this day and age, the majority of my generation cares more for what we display on the outside, rather than focus on the souls we stow on the inside. Until this trend diminishes, I do not see myself finding true love, but rather ignorant love.

Another note: If only we realized how full of shit each and every one of us really is, this world would be a better place

Check, Please!

September 15, 2014
Creative Writing, Poetry
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Is there no end to the guilt that I feel?

Do I blame myself for another’s yield?

If light means life then I must concede;

the darkness has found me, as daylight recedes.

It smears carbon black over eyes pearl white.

Concealing the pleasure, enforcing the blight.

The agony is a bore, life becomes a chore;

when all that I can fathom

is the day it ran me ragged.