Ars Poetica

“I met you in the early morning
Of a cold, January day.
At first meeting,
You seemed friendly and sweet.
I thought you might be the one,
The one I will find release in.
I never realized how wrong I could be.

The first few weeks were pure bliss,
Words flowing easily between us.
I even claimed you were my love
Because of how perfectly we fit.
However, like all great things,
The world finds a way to rip it apart,
Rip the love from growing too strong.

Soon, all our conversations
became forced, then deafly silent.
And I screamed in the dead of night
at the thought of having to see you again,
Of having to claim you as my own.
That’s when I knew we were broken and
Our relationship was never going to last.

So, dear love, this is my final goodbye.
These past few months have been spent
Carving our existence into papers and hearts.
And though the carvings will continue to last
Our relationship meets its end, here, tonight.
I can not say I regret our hurt or even our love
But when the ink runs out, it’s time to throw away the pen.”

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Into Something I Don’t Even Recognize

“It seems that lately,
without me even noticing,
The world has changed
Into something I don’t even recognize.

The world had shifted
From black, to red, to blue
And now it changed into a new color,
Into something I don’t even recognize.

Suddenly, I’m standing alone.
Watching as the world rushes past me.
I see old friends but they run into new places,
Into something I don’t even recognize.

I go back to the place I’m sure is the same
I decide to go back home. But, when I get there,
I know, this too has undergone a change
Into something I don’t even recognize.

When I finally am able to stop
And look into the mirror,
I realize it was me who had changed
Into something I don’t even recognize.”

Empty Bottles and Empty Hearts

“All I was left with was the taste of you on my tongue. So I chased it with bottles of vodka, hoping the bitterness of you would be replaced with the bitterness of it. But in the end, all that turned bitter was me. You always had a way of seeping into my blood and the spaces between my ribs without me even noticing. I guess I should have seen the warning signs but I liked you better than I liked downing bottles. Life has a funny way of always coming full circle, doesn’t it?”

We Eat In

“At home we argue
Over who is right and who is wrong,
Though the debate is much deeper than that.

It’s whether or not we have drifted apart beyond repair.

As the moments pass,
Our voices reach new highs.

You then push me down
And stand over me with a raised right fist.

You hit me.
Again and again.

There is a faint cry, a whimper.

And with your bloody, split knuckles,
You stand up sighing.

Who we are ends,
A voice is screaming to run

Destroyed things,
we hang in heavy silence.

Your face is now blank.
Your eyes, dark and empty.

My head raises to look at you
With hesitation and with fear.

I cannot decide if you are a new weapon
Or the same man I loved.

I walk to the table, and continue eating.

I liked us better the way we were,
But we were always changing.”

-This is an imitation poem based off of the amazing Margaret Atwood’s “They eat out”-