Diamonds made of blue

When engaged,
he gave her a diamond made of blue
because when the two collided, she
cried of happiness as the time grew tall.

Mourning the loss of time,
rejoicing in the happiness of heart.

She told me this story,
showing ring on finger,
with a failed-hidden smile –

that’s when I saw what love looked like.
Mind made; decided that I would never waste time again.

Years grew tall,
many weeds tried to lower the time,
but were all pulled away at their seams.
Colliding but slightly,
grazing the edges of my form.

These temptations were present,
yes, but all ended in failed forge.

Stumbling never falling, waiting
in complaining silence, but steady did I hold.

Once that day completed, once the destination
was in place, written words to commemorate the visible
force of fate.

Collide in rapid action
piercing into my soul –
from that day onward,
did I truly learn what it meant
to cry from joy.

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10.08am on a Friday

I’m sorry I’m in a constant state of being
saved. One more mark against me, one more
strike against my cause. I’m sorry you’re
my victor undenied – coming to prove me wrong
with cause.

Anyone else, but you.
I hate to prove your right in all my wrongs.
Anyone else, but you.
I’m sorry that I still need to be saved.

Mind you, I’m learning but I hate
this state.
I keep trying to make you proud,
but I keep on proving wrong.
How many steps retracted is this?

Shame-filled to see,
but let me start
to fix my mistakes.

How can I move on when all
I do is move back? Revealing, once more,
my faults?

How do I move past when all I
can manage is to fall down?

 

The Reason for this Continuation

All of these words,
and all of these thoughts.
It is a sorrow that
you will not read all
of my dedications designed for you.

Lost in the crossfire,
lost by the sea,
lost by friendly, inconspicuous
deeds such as sleep.

You will not read them,
cannot even, for will,
not even I, though
hard as I try.

Dedications and songs,
verses and thoughts –
all of these lost,
word all of endorsed exalt.

My Mother’s Excuses

(My Mother’s Excuses, or, To Whom I Despise)

‘He only acts this way when you’re here.’
Well, thank you for once again showing me my place.

Happy to be of service, no added extra charge
for twenty years have I given others their dishonourable charge.

I alone, with powers supreme, able
to turn a person into their evil deeds.

Thank you, really.
This was my plan all along – to have finally
learnt that hard work and effort pays off.
Now I know my job is close to done.

Whether I wanted this gift so divine,
is something not asked, something not looked
upon. But whatever that means, for I cannot tell,
I have words, but few to depart, small in number, but all
meant within my heart:

Before I leave, forever and always,
my last words upon thee are these next written:
If I had a chance to woo you with words,
I’d slice you and beat you to create conspicuous, unhealable wounds.

Blood spilling before thee
with a clean hand in place,
forever and always, you’d think
twice before acting with such lack of grace.

Violence is but easy,
I know enough to admit
but that never stopped you, caused
you enough change to recommit

to what you promised, all
you said to all involved.

Violence is easy, but what is done
cannot be un. And these are my
words, tainted and bruised with someone’s yet spilled blood.

A phase, resprung

A phase, resprung,
going back to the days where the mind
had better things to do than waste time
by kipping in.

A dream of you, rethought,
making me wish to forever
dream than to withstand
the strife of the life –
the thought of never being
with you ever again.

A ticking of thoughts
yet my body still, still
within the feel of our bodies, close
yet my mind alive knowing that
this imagery – that this
imagery is a lie.

A phrase, sprung
but held within the locked lips,
letting instead to let assumptions
reign as far as the mind can reach
on this night so deep.