If I was pleased with your performance
An artist of bigotry and insufferable silence
I would applaud in haughty acknowledgement
Of your ability to make me scream
At the very top of my fucking lungs.
But thank you,
For your indignant idiocy
And the fact that you could never stick around
For more than the passing of a breath
In the frozen fog filled air.
Being yourself was far too much to ask of you
You wanted to be the clouds
And the never-ending
Wind that blows through the trees
That cannot hear my screeches of protest.
The names that I would yell into the night
Would not be needed If you would stay
And if you stayed I would not
Douse my liver in chemicals
Nor would I soak my heart in tar
Because you are enough pollution
To last for several thousand lifetimes.
It hurts nature and the gods of lore
When you disappear for hours and hours
With no words of consolation for my fragile ears to digest.
There are many exemplary reasons
Why I will always miss you more than anyone.
I would never leave you
But you fell into the midnight flowers
And folded up within the petals of many morning glories
That I will pick from stems of pride
And feed to my organs.
You are the only thing that steps between
Me and my destiny to interfere.
The only thing that I desire
Is to hold your hands to my heart
And to make our bodies intertwine
Like leaves in blinding winter sun
Under the weight of the purest snowfall.
I am feeling cold
Please warm me with your heat of heart
Seething with a passive flame
And let me in turn take your blue lungs
To roast them with my passion
And again turn them bright english pink
Like soft spring snapdragons.
I need you more than I need oxygen
But my hands are turning blue
With lack of care for anything
Except you.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry for Dying to
PoetryThis is a poetry book mainly consisting of freelance poetry and deep thoughts. It may make you think about the deeper aspects of life. It will not be complete any time soon, but will be added to as time goes on. Everything here is mine, and mine on...
