Hope Chest

Discussion in 'Poet's Corner' started by BelovedDreamer, Aug 22, 2006.

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  1. BelovedDreamer

    BelovedDreamer Well-Known Member

    Sometime I wish you’d call
    Just to tell me that you love me.
    There are days
    When I am so tired I feel I cannot breathe
    And those days
    I wish that you would lie to me
    Tell me that I’m beautiful
    And that you will never leave.
    Then there are the days I miss you most
    The times when my heart feels waterlogged and heavy
    And I wonder if you miss me at all
    Or if you just take me for granted
    The stolid, solid hands
    Always there to catch you if you fall.
    In some moments I feel you with me
    Hear your words
    Or the timbre and tone of your voice
    Exit my mouth
    And I stop in shock and dismay
    And my inner monologue pauses long enough to wish
    I could follow you and ask why you ran away.
    But I stop myself and the frantic panic of my thoughts
    I will not be that person
    Stalking the world as if it owed me something.
    Sometimes I close my eyes
    And hold onto the memories that haven’t yet abandoned me
    And wonder at the price we pay
    For being human.
    The way everything we do or say has it’s cost
    And everything we allow ourselves to dream
    Just means another chance at loss.
    The way life goes you start to wonder
    If caring might not be a crime
    And loving a sin
    You palms get so calloused from being nailed to those crosses
    That you just start leaving the nails in
    Questions build up
    A mental plague full of boils and sores
    As I wonder where I went wrong and if I can ever fix it
    That’s me, always swimming upriver with rocks in my pockets.
    Maybe there is no answer
    Hard as it might be to swallow
    But the decision about who sinks and who swims
    Might be as fickle as the weather
    Dependent upon nothing but luck and a whim.
    Sometimes I wish I could take my name back from your lips
    Hearing you say it might once have been sacred
    But pronounced like a stranger it just feels so profane.
    And I wonder to myself in the privacy of thought
    How what was once so at home
    Could have gotten so lost.
    It’s not your fault that I wanted more than you could give.
    I wanted someone to tell me that they loved me
    Like the world was ending tomorrow
    So I could pray for apocalypse.
    I was looking for permanence
    You just needed someone in that moment.
    I never was good at the flash-in-the-pan relationships
    I always burnt myself
    Or found out at the last moment
    That the pan I was using was completely non-stick.
    Saying goodbye is hard, it’s so hard
    And made harder when one person has already gone.
    You’re left saying goodbye
    Not to them but the places they’ve been
    And the things that remind you of them.
    A house with grey shutters and a broken porch step
    A film about nothing, about madness, about death
    You keep on going until there’s nothing left
    And you’ve emptied the bag into which you reminisced
    And the house is someone else’s
    And the movie’s just a classic
    And the love is just a feeling blown and dried
    And you add its frail-flower carcass to your hope chest
    One more thing you bring to your next attempt
    And you give up on the wait for apocalypse
    and instead you just pray for a rest.
  2. theleastofthese

    theleastofthese SF Friend Staff Alumni

    Dearly Beloved;

    :smile: :eek:hmy: your words, and the order in which you put them, and the rhythm in which they read, never - NEVER - cease to amaze and inspire me!!:eek:hmy: :smile:


    least xoxoxox
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