During a time of sugar-coated promises
and sweet-toothed grins,
you were a bag of sour gumdrops.
You produced puckered lips
and friendly laughs
until the burns kicked in at your bite.
You gave away pieces of you
until all that remained
were bloody tongues and chaffed lips.
During this time of sugar-coated promises
and sweet-toothed grins,
you were a bag of sour gumdrops,
good only in moderation.
The words shake on their way out of my mouth,
a trembling on the tongue as they fall into the
endless puddles of apologies. How many times
can my throaty cries tell you I’m sorry before
you decide you can learn to forgive. I live
through my words while you stand beside
yours. You do not deserve the sympathy, yet
I spit the words onto a silver platter to feed
the appetite you work up after a hard day of
I lost myself when I fell down the rabbit hole,
obsessed with time, the future held in a
stopwatch pocketed by no ones hands but
my own. I look through the eyes of the hatter,
no need to get high with the caterpillar to see
illusions within the mirror. I’ve always dictated
this heart, but the kingdom is failing, derailing
heads of hope is the only way to cope with this
My therapist was created by murdered trees,
rolled and cut into sheets, stamped with
inked lines that guide our conversations.
He wields a metal spine, curled tight,
wrapped around my thoughts in attempt
to hold our sessions in one place.
I create my therapy sessions with plastic
tubes around thin sticks of led, topped
with a rubber mistakes eraser.
We make appointments daily, accumulating
emotions, finding their meanings, and the
outcome always seems to be poetry.
The problem with having the same
tastes in music, is all my music
reminds me of yours.
Your voice the drums,
a steady beat that kept me on pace.
Your smile the chorus,
the melody that got stuck in my head.
Your laugh the lyrics
that drew me in with every line.
The last chord was the look in
your eyes when you said goodbye.
The last spark, leaving the ghost
of the sound in the silence, a
slow transition into the faint
ringing being alone can cause.
The sound of your ears longing
for something to fill the quiet.
I was thrown into a world that
keeps trying to throw me back.
Hated for my mistakes, it’s left
me kicking, fighting for a place
I was brought unwillingly. I’m
trying to return myself to a
sender that has moved since
giving me up to this existence.
This poem was written collaboratively by me and a friend of mine. First line was his, next was mine, and so on. You can check out his blog at; https://markswiftnexus.blogspot.com/
Among seas and stars, and across the earth,
Strung by ropes, an essence of worth,
Lies a treasure, beyond any other,
Measured in the love of a mother,
That those around may feel its pulse,
Through thorned crowns, it arose.