#130
Who had the gull to graffiti
the lies using stars
staring at the ceiling
concentrating on constellations
spying signs, counting satellites,
how many of us are there?
#131
String me up,
and bleed me out,
everyday inconveniences
ring my smile down
puddling to the drain,
burning but yet another hole,
and there you are again,
steering my financial groans,
tread marks and flat sneakers,
worn through from each step
uphill. Here again, holding onto
this familiar bottom run.
#132
i wish i could only just
give you my physical heart whole,
so you’d know, quite comfortably
that without you, there is always
a part of me missing.
#133
Striking the flame,
courage can be a curious thing,
fickle finding its steps,
in the constant combat against
regret and remorse.
When moral is at uncomfortable lows,
it pays to be mindful of our movements
as we dance through the darkness,
and climb through the clouds.
Oh, keep that courage close,
keep it within, keep it chasing,
fighting for the freedom and a fresh
breath, strike the flame
and hold the light beside you.
#134
In the back of a frame,
in the corner of the scene,
beside him in the background
i saw a painting so simple and true,
the Eiffel Tower, and the statement ringing
“All she had was oatmeal and one Bowie record to last her all Summer.”
So fitting and so perfect. A picture is worth a thousand words
what of the sentence that paints the perfect picture?
Of the perfect girl?
God, how i wanted right there, right then,
to call.
Despite the hour.
Despite your dreams.
Just to hear you half asleep.
Just to whisper something sweet.
To share the insights between your deep dreamy breaths.
i’m not used to this kind of longing,
or melancholy. Why is it so good?
How come feeling like garbage is so welcomed
when its accompanied by thinking of you?
In a life brimming with excitement, a crackling Sinatra record
on an old hi-fi, and a sad poem sits just right as i save
the thoughts for now,
to tell you tomorrow.
Thanks for joining! Find poems through out the week on my instagram @monsieurwrite
Don’t forget to check out the poems being recited on The Write Stuff podcast!
Take care, call your family, tell them you love them.
wazoo!
-Mr. Write