Miss Asphyxia (trypanophobic34) wrote in poet_society,
Miss Asphyxia
trypanophobic34
poet_society

  • Music:

Heartstone

“I’m so sad
I’m so sad that my heart is going to burst
And bleed all over my rib cage
And when it’s finally dead and done
I’ll be skipping and humming
And it will be your turn to hurt”

So I’m standing in the cold bright air
Each breath I take is like a stab in the lung
And I’m trying to clear the mist from my head
And once it’s gone, I will feel
Relieved, though a little bit empty
It will all be done

But I’m softening
The rigid shoulders are slowly loosening
The cold is drawing itself like knives through my body
And the fierce smile is steadily drooping
This moment will soon be gone

And when it’s sunny, it’s always cold
But there’s something in the frost untold
Something vaguely warming and comforting
So I’m standing in it and, unwilling, loosening
I’m holding my throat down, and humming to myself
And the sounds are forming ribbons in the air
They’re twisting together and softly saying,
“Don’t be angry with the world
There’s so much more than you could understand
The tears don’t suck back into your eyes, but
Don’t be bitter at the world”

There’s a stone that fell in my heart
There’s a feeling,
Like pure, ethereal beauty,
That’s rising in me and now, crippled, falling
And the words that slipped out drop dead and dumb
As single stones upon the ground

I know what it is
I heard it as a child long ago
As a melody on a piano in my dream
Whose notes sounded ineffable sadness
Beauty, that is
Now you know
What it is I hold so dear
And now you know why I keep it near
So stubbornly, as though jealous of it
And the heartstone grows, but behind closed eyes I see
The same old dream, and the same old me

“Don’t be angry with the world
There’s so much more beauty than you can hold
You’re waiting and hoping, and thinking you know
My child, at seventeen, you’re too young but too old.”

I wrote this awhile ago. I haven't written a poem in over a month, I'm sure. Creative flow is getting tepid. I remember a couple days last year when I would just hurry home, formulating phrases along the way, and write them all down feverishly, poetic lines assaulting my mind and leaving it a bit dizzy.
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic
  • 0 comments