written during this summer
where my poetry remains unfinished
the words hold emotion
but lack connection...
blood in my pen
words from my veins
to conjure up the spirits
and examine my pain
i am not a happy person
or even a content one
i am broken,
lonesome, depressed
the only love i'm fit to receive
is from a faceless figure
one who i talked to in her darkest hour
she sees in me someone to "luv"
to the point of calling me her cyber-boyfriend
but she lives in Mississippi
her identity is nothing but her words
and her "luv", cold and mechanical
if it exists at all
while the girl i truly love
passes off my desire with laughter
as she contradicts herself
and also some advice she gave to me once
on how not to let an opportunity pass you by
the irony is sickening, but understandable
she suffers from the same problem that has plagued me for so long
blindly refusing to let go of a heart you can never hold
which brings me back to the beginning
the root of the problem, yes her
for too long i attempted to recreate
the intoxicating taste of her kiss
foolishly envisioning her and me
a hybrid of our memory and my fantasy
now i realize the dream is over
but occasionally thoughts of her pertrude my mind
a fleeting moment of ecstasy
followed by lasting sorrow
my eyes see a world my heart won't belive
please don't see this as a poem of anger
or a desperate cry for help
but rather, a simple statement of fact
and a question to which i'm searching for an answer...
do i deserve what i want?
or is what i have all i deserve?
|
|
