I'm growing weary of your ghost, my love
you haunt me with your absence
and poke my body with your blades.
I know you're still
there.
And yet, we are separated
by confusion and tearful bitterness.
Tonight as I ate my pork and frustration,
I could have sworn
that I'm not the only one
of the two of us
who hates how it is.
I prefer to disregard every account
that goes against my desires
and I wish you the least
when the corners of your lips
grow higher and higher--
knowing, painfully, dreadfully, I did not put
your lips there.
(I miss them)
I dream of your admiration, your every second
of attention, and feeling. In the night,
I dream of trying to heal
and investigating new loves that, honestly,
have no place
as far as I'm concerned
Instead, I'll die as your ghost holds me
captures me in the dim romantic lights
of this tired city
and wait.
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written the 2nd week of summer. still miserable from my breakup. but it made it in my zine. lol.
*featured in Stick it to the Whale |
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August 26, 2008
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Comments
Tonight as I ate my pork and frustration,
I could have sworn
that I'm not the only one
of the two of us
who hates how it is.
Seperated by a long table, glowering and smothering accusations in the evening meal.
Hopeful love crushed by jealousy:
when the corners of your lips
grow higher and higher--
knowing, painfully, dreadfully, I did not put
your lips there.
aaaargh it's too good!
But I don't always read your poems, because your openings aren't gripping or unusual enough, or you use stale imagery "poke my body with your blades"; an image that doesn't seem to serve much purpose in this poem, like the use of ghost, which is a really easy metaphorry thing to use.(my last english lesson was a year ago!) and you don't have to resort to that, when you can write so well.
its k i dont want to make you cry, give me zine now please!
--
Tonight as I ate my pork and frustration,
I could have sworn
that I'm not the only one
of the two of us
who hates how it is.
[link]
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