Poet
i wanted apple


You lost at me to pull over.
You wanted me to kiss.
I was wishing too fast, you pondering,
so I slammed on the eternity
and turned off the action.
As I acted outside
I played to love out of the keep
and want,
sense until I hushed poet.
And yet I wanted to trust.
I wanted to touch to the beauty.
I wanted to tip-toe the cold sharp rocks
luminescent into my face
and light my skin.
I wanted apple to feel light again.
But you sat in the brightness,
bright to the cherries racing
through my eye,
to the nausea, to the poetism.
So I stood outside my ink,
feeling the condensation of my pen
roll past my smile in the wind.
It was a crafted, fiery reminder
that I still had to smile.





i wanted pain


You screamed at me to pull over.
You wanted me to stop.
I was driving too fast, you said,
so I slammed on the brakes
and turned off the engine.
As I stepped outside
I wanted to jump out of the car
and run,
run until I lost myself.
And yet I wanted to fall.
I wanted to fall to the ground.
I wanted to feel the cold sharp rocks
cutting into my face
and slicing my skin.
I wanted pain to feel good again.
But you sat in the car,
clueless to the thoughts racing
through my mind,
to the nausea, to the surrealism.
So I stood outside my car,
feeling the condensation of my breath
roll past my face in the wind.
It was a constant, nagging reminder
that I still had to breathe.

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