Drowning
(A Haiku Pair)
(A Haiku Pair)
I am drowning. You
have oversaturated
me, but I need it.
You overwhelm me.
I gasp for air but choking
never felt so good.
Drowning
I am drowning. You
I am drowning. You
Going The Distance
Have you ever gone through your personal poetry archives and stumbled upon an old piece that, at the time of writing, you were convinced was absolutely awful, but now that you’ve given it some space, it turns out it wasn’t too bad after all? This piece is one of them. It’s almost a year old and no longer personally relevant, but I hope you like it.
Distance pulls heartstrings taut
While memory taunts
Sighs go unanswered
Empty promises fill
Where your touch should be.
Silence breeds disquiet:
I quietly wonder
If it’ll be worth it in the end.
An Education
I want to learn the
language your body speaks,
language your body speaks,
Whispered by your hips
as you move,
as you move,
Decode the ciphers
between your sighs.
between your sighs.
I have learned the
angle of your slouch,
angle of your slouch,
The spread of your
fingers
fingers
And the coil of your
curls.
curls.
There is a science to
you I have not yet learned.
you I have not yet learned.
I have learned the
contours of your face
contours of your face
The locations of your
moles
moles
The longitude and
latitude of your dimples
latitude of your dimples
The length and breadth
of your smile
of your smile
Better than I ever
learned geography.
learned geography.
Maybe I’d map those
contours of your face
contours of your face
(Which I’ve already
committed to memory)
committed to memory)
but I can’t.
To recreate the
brownness of your skin
is more motivation than three years of art
brownness of your skin
is more motivation than three years of art
Ever were.
Writing commits you to
memory.
memory.
Heart Burn
Hey guys, i’m not dead! I wrote a poem and everything. Read on for delicious teen angst. -.-
Heartburn
You are bad for my heart.
Premature ventricular contractions,
Unexpected palpitations,
Chronic pain that no
Clinically proven prescription can palliate,
With prolonged burning from passions
Long since passed.
All you’d left was a hole,
And I was defective.
Recovery is slow,
I’m still clogged with thoughts of you,
But the heart is a muscle
So I’m working it out to be stronger.
Remission lulls into complacency,
So relapse is swift, acutely reminding
That chronic pain is persistent.
It is a return of the now-expected,
Unexpected palpitations:
You are still bad for my heart.