Blizza801 Poetry (70)

I must have breathed in at the wrong moment.
I some how seemed to have inhaled at the most inopportune time.
When ever the moment was,
you got inside.

You buried yourself deep into my tissue,
moved along ever so skillfully as not to nick a vein or
disrupt one of those capillaries you were so jealious of.
Jealous, because the heart that beat the blood through them,
didn't beat for you.

You found your spot and you waited.
For months you fed off of me and I didn't even notice you there.
You followed me to the bar to have a few drinks.
You went on a drive with me to go see my friends.

One morning I woke up and noticed you.

You were laying on the other side of the bed,
my blankets wrapped tight between your legs and through your arms,
like some blue snake fallen victim to strangulation.

You were seeing yourself as the butterfly that had emerged from this drunken cocoon that still smelled of cigarettes and years of regret.
I myself was suprised I was even seeing you.

You burned the eggs in an attempt to prove your possibilities.
Your make up had toned down and I could see that you were nervous to be revealing the girl only you knew.
You were like an EMT pumping and pushing and breathing,
trying to give life back to the dead.
I didn't have the heart to tell you that the lungs had long since been removed,
and the heart never felt your push.

The day I open our urn and scattered our ashes into the air,
you choked trying to catch each bit.
You looked like a child during a first snow fall,
and all I could do was walk away and make snow angels

Smooth hips slip past wondering palms
Lips that display passionate wrath
My fingers circle this wondrous maze
Both soaking in our salty bath

Breath across your golden neck
Eye to eye the gaze that’s growing
Shedding clothes like second skin
Lighter flesh now partly showing

Acrylic claws that brush my back
With each thrust a rising rush
Then animal screams that wake the sun
Followed by our silent hush

Two souls that merged upon the night
Then all was gone when morning came
A love I shall not soon forget
To bad I never knew her name

The grand highway
is
crowded
w/
lovers
&
searchers
&
leavers
so
eager
to
please
&
forget.

Wilderness

The grand highway
is
crowded
w/
lovers
&
searchers
&
leavers
so
eager
to
please
&
forget.

Wilderness

The Night is young
& full of rest
I can't describe
the way she's dress'd
She'll pander to some strange
requests
Anything that you suggest
Anything to please her guest

You may not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before she may love again. But if she loves you now, what else matters? She’s not perfect - you aren’t either, and the two of you may never be perfect together but if she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice, and admit to being human and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most you can. She may not be thinking about you every second of the day, but she will give you a part of her that she knows you can break - her heart. So don’t hurt her, don’t change her, don’t analyze and don’t expect more than she can give. Smile when she makes you happy, let her know when she makes you mad, and miss her when she’s not there.

It burned hot that day.
My charcoal remains did nothing more
then pay tribute to the wild fire that consumed me.
I had soaked myself in kerosene,
hoping I would catch a spark,
and I did.

As you spoke,
I grabbed each falling ember from your lips.
Oh, it burned hot that day.
Every common interest we had,
only fueled the intense inferno
I had burning deep inside.
Your laugh made me laugh,
and we laughed about that.
Just another reason for my temperature to rise,
for my skin to slowly smoke.

It all felt too perfect,
like fate had dragged me out of my shelter,
and directed me to the seat next to you.
The line between love and infatuation had been blurred,
and I stumbled from side to side drunken off the moment,
weakened by the idea of my own diamond in the rough
shaped by the beating of my heart.

It was all artificial though, every last ash.
I didn't really know a thing about you,
so had no choice but to love the unknown.
Your very personality and all the secrets undiscovered,
were constructed by the hands of my own imagination.
I pushed square blocks into circular holes,
and convinced myself they fit.
It was only to stretch the moment,
only to burn a little longer.

The ending is always the same though,
a poorly built structure on shifting sand.
One morning we'd wake up and discover everything
will have crumbled and been swallowed
by a billion grains of reality.

The best part of our mind blankets itself
in the ability to look back and remember.
The ability to recall the surreal feelings we had,
and the way it burned so hot that day.

Most of us are just ashes,
ghosts made up of moments
when we chose to mistake infatuation for love,
and burn bright enough to dim the stars.

The bean was the beginning; the fetus of a king,
the child of a god, ending as a perfect peace of chocolate,
resting in your finger tips.
The chocolate seduces your lips to part ways.
Pulls your jaw down far enough too slip in past the split in your lips.
It yearns and moans to be tossed around by your tongue.
To bathe in your warm saliva and rest in your cheeks.
Crawling on hands and knees begging just for the privilege,
too slowly slide down your throat and finally rest inside you.
Some nights I sit and think of you,
and wish to god I was chocolate.

She is my ocean
Heavy her swells that break against my cracked lips
Her hair flows like the endless rivers that spill into her
I get lost in her touch as she swirls sand between my toes
I ride out her white squalls,
storms that would turn ships to splinters
Afterwords, I caress the rainbow she wears like a crown
My lungs beg to be filled with the salt in her skin
I want to sink endlessly into her deepest depths
I want to feel weightless and surreal in her vast waters
Her ever changing currents guides my every moment
So much more then an endless thought,
she is my ocean

I would call you a cool glass of water
I'm not going to because, your so much more
Your a tall glass of Georgia peach ice tea
Condensation drops forming,
from the dying summer heat
The curves of your glass glisten and highlight
rogue rays of sunlight,
sneaking past spaces in the live oak trees
Your each ice cube that cools my lips,
leaving sweet secrets tangled on my tongue
No wonder I find myself thirsty all the time
claiming dehydration,
just to have another sip