I bet you think this song is about you don’t you – Page 3

July 10, 2012ishara No Comments

An Education

I want to learn the

language your body speaks,

Whispered by your hips

as you move,

Decode the ciphers

between your sighs.

I have learned the

angle of your slouch,

The spread of your

fingers

And the coil of your

curls.

There is a science to

you I have not yet learned.

I have learned the

contours of your face

The locations of your

moles

The longitude and

latitude of your dimples

The length and breadth

of your smile

Better than I ever

learned geography.

Maybe I’d map those

contours of your face

(Which I’ve already

committed to memory)

but I can’t.

To recreate the

brownness of your skin

is more motivation than three years of art

Ever were.

Writing commits you to

memory.

November 4, 2011ishara No Comments

Death Throes

Morbid fascination

kills me again and again.

These are the death throes

Of our potential.

This is the not the martyrdom

I try to tell myself it is.

It is assisted suicide.

Nor is it the first time-

Reincarnation ad nauseam,

Same me, different yous-

Till nirvana:

A state I cannot reach.

It sickens me,

The way I crave

Your attentions.

Like Tantalus I thirst

And am never satisfied.

You bloom perpetual

While I fade like echoes.

Jeweled fruit that fall

From your lips

Into my ears

Sweet fruit, biting aftertaste,

Like soured wine to the dying man,

Leaves me empty and bitter.

I am killed softly

By the words you never speak.

June 16, 2011ishara 2 Comments

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.

February 21, 2011ishara No Comments

Ode

*NOTE* this has been edited. and i’m much happier with the edit.

Ode

Your voice is sweet and slow like honey dripping off a spoon,

And the way your lips caress each word; parting is such sweet sorrow.

Your scent intoxicates my being

With its murmurs of power,

Hints of vice

And the lingering notes of fixation.

Your pendulum see saw hips hypnotize my eyes

So I play right into your smile

When our eyes meet, time moves poco rit,

As you weave your spell on me

And when we touch,

the heat crescendos, my heart beats staccato allegro

And the blood plays fortissimo in my ears.

January 13, 2011ishara No Comments

Call To Worship

The artist has no comment.

I come to your temple to worship,

I’m on my knees at the altar,

Give me the wine,

Let me taste your body.

I adore with word,

Thought

And deed,

Let my lips sing your praises.

Let me worship at your temple,

And when I call your name,

It will never be in vain.

January 2, 2011ishara No Comments

Tricks

i’m really not amused. must this really be the theme of my first piece of the year? sigh. also, i’ve added a like button to all content. feel free to use 🙂

I know your secret.

You wait until the taste

Of you has

All but faded

To spring forth

And remind me

That you’re still there,
To make sure
I never forget.

I know your trick,

But that doesn’t

Mean I don’t

Fall for it every time.

December 7, 2010ishara 1 Comment

Deadly Sins (Cycle II)

You are the vice

That resides in my soul,

The lust and envy

That corrode it,

The temptation

That I yield to,

Again and again

Without fail.

Forgive me Father,

For I have sinned,

And I yearn for absolution.

November 29, 2010ishara No Comments

The Little Things

It’s the little things

that make me think of you.

(the smell of stale smoke,

brushing my hair,

the way the boy at the corner stood

as he waited for a bus).

When they come,

as thoughts often do,

I’ll inhale,

try to still my heart,

flush the thoughts away,

Of course it never works,

but I can’t help but try,

and maybe one day

the little things

will be just that:

things.

October 30, 2010ishara No Comments

Infatuation: A Haiku

Watching from afar,
i wonder what it’s like to
be wrapped in your arms.

October 24, 2010ishara 6 Comments

Fluff

I’m being very mean to these two pieces and posting them together because they’re both fluffy bits of silliness….

Like

I like you.

Stupid me.

Stupid you.

Me for liking,

You for being so likeable.

But alas,

So be it,

I like you.

There’s the first one. And this is the second.

Maybe

Maybe in another life,

If I still weave words

And you still write symphonies,

I’ll write you sweet nothings

And whisper them in your ear

While you play me a song

That only I will hear.