#WriteFree365 – Day 243: Buried Alive Interlude

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(It was tough to find a song today.  But when I did… eight straight months of writing.  Day 243…)

I jump right in and fall asleep, ’cause you are the death of me…

At this point,
The cause of death
Only matters to those who’ll know our story long after I’m gone
The truth straddles two sides
Mine digging deeper into my mind to lay
And yours closing the coffin
While I still looked at you wondering
If you were sure.

Goodbye is a premeditated crime
Murder two
Souls who knew demise was imminent
I stared in the eyes of my killer
As beautiful as you are
Missing your demeanor
Added to your charge
Another degree
Made you colder
Turning a vow into a felony

I hope you can hear me banging underneath your ribs
That dirt piled onto my gravesite
Won’t keep my spirit from haunting you
It’s only right neither of us get much sleep.

#WriteFree365 – Day 218: Sex With My Ex

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(I’ve seen this scenario a lot.  I’ve lived it, though not currently.  But this is the door that opened.  Day 218…)

I memorize your special code.  I can get in any time I want…

This is the diamond
Underneath a pile of coal
And you
Your words
My pride
Make up the soot that covers our faces
My fingerprints show up better on your legs

We can’t put egos aside
Because we feed each other’s
With spoonfuls of suspended logic
It’s easy for us to make love
The irrationality of continuing to join at the hip
Can’t be solved with a “breakup”
That wasn’t the problem
And you know what they say about things that aren’t broken
It’s not like we’re repairing our relationship or anything

Here
With your ankles by your ears
I’m not worried about if you’re listening
A fistful of hair
Is easier to pull
Than whatever it is that bothered you.
You are more comfortable swallowing my thoughts
When they aren’t a result of what you said
Even though your lips
Cause those, too.

We are eclipse
Near each other to be an amazing display
But if we happened every day
There would be impending doom.

#WriteFree365 – Day 68: Your Ex-Lover Is Dead

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(This is a beautifully sad song.  It’s a powerful song in which the title may be jarring to some people.  I hope you enjoy Day 68’s entry…)

Live thorough things, and you won’t look back…

Fact: people die
People who turn your heart into a home
Will perish
Cease to exist
But at what point does grieving stop being therapeutic?

When a relationship is over
It sucks
Part of your soul is vacuumed from you.
Suddenly or gradually
The hurt isn’t any easier.
Funeral preparations are not any easier.

Every conversation
Every time someone asks why your arms are now empty
You repeat the eulogy you’ve prepared
Tears poorly hidden behind words in black garment
Sadness pulls at your hope
Placing the idea in your head that maybe
They’re not quite dead.

The coffin closes
The last time you’ll ever see them has arrived
Bury them.
Do not be sorry they are buried.
Whether you believe it or not
They’re in a better place
for them.

Memories
While precious
Can fester if allowed to feed on dreams
Nightmares give the shadows puree.
Don’t give in to the fright of being alone.
Don’t call out to the undead that appears bearing your former lover’s skin.
I know it’s thrilling to watch them rise from their grave
But they’re not here to dance.
Zombies
No matter how much you loved them
Only want to feed on your brain.
And you’re in danger of becoming one yourself
No vaccination is as potent as goodbye.
Heal by never going grave digging
Old bones do not serve you while you’re living
Just like your tears won’t aid them in their afterlife.

Rambling (2nd Revision)

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(Editor’s Note: The freewrite of this is in an earlier post. This is still not finished. I’m giving insight into how I polish up my pieces)

One of those days last year:

I died.
I think.
Whatever it was
Didn’t feel like the life I was supposed to have.
I had renounced the Declaration of Independence
Dead, enslaved, and content with being depressed
Freedom decayed because I was so wounded from losing
Her name doesn’t matter
That I confused a lesson for a soulmate.

I apologized to her
It was whispered into my bloodstream
So it would spill where I was bleeding
Before I realized I was healing
I started believing that message was for me
“I’m sorry” had a terrifying meaning

Rot sprouted from my veins
I took the gangrenous tissue and made a heart from egotistical seeds
So plainly terminal that Death was the only thing fertile like a black rose in barren concrete

I roamed love’s two-way street making it a personal Elm.
Then attacked women with good intentions who saw me when they’re dreaming.

Somewhere in my own nightmares
I wondered if anyone could love a haunted creature like me
He who disguised manipulation in collarbone kisses
And touches that would be loving if I hadn’t forgotten what love was.

Fear injected inside victims
Getting them to crave what I missed
The pusherman with that make em feel good.

But after ripping countless addicts’ minds to shreds
Still empty as I fled
I cleared my head until I could no longer see myself as a monster.
And all is peaceful in the neighborhood now that Freddy’s dead.

Eight weeks ago:

I tasted honey in the atmosphere.
There was this you.
A you so magnificent, I questioned if I deserved it.
You looked like the most beautiful lesson the Universe bestowed upon me
Forgive me for my assumption
But don’t you think it’s a little arrogant to believe I encountered a soulmate before I had your phone number?

I tucked those boasts someplace where love at first sight had to go look.
And stared at your contact picture as if you were a stranger.
I let my heart go on a search for your memory.
Leaving a trail of seasoned crumbs big enough to remember each morsel
And small enough that insecurity would starve trying to feed off them.

This space is reserved for the map it puts together.

Sometime tomorrow:

I don’t have the words for perfect
Let time have its moment of glory.
We know destiny is flawless.

Can’t Let Go

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There was a time when the sight of you made my heart skip beats
Now it takes leaps over the melodies of my soul’s acapella.
The silence of your absence is as close to death as I’ll get to my last breath.

I hear your voice circulating through my bloodstream
Your hold on me is cellular
It’s useless to ignore them
For when I think of you
Those calls vibrate across my skin.

You not being here makes me shiver.
Addiction causes me to act as if I am naked in the winter.
But our season ended seasons ago.
I put down your drug many needles ago.
So why haven’t I shaken you?

Remembering your kiss gives me a headache
I never realized how caffeinated it was until I stopped drinking it in.
Without it, my body misses the sugar rush.
They say living healthy has its prices
And it is so painful removing you from my diet.

I dreamed of you
Not last night
But not too long ago
Our memories lie in scrapbooks tucked in the attic
Maybe I’m allergic to the dust they’ve collected.
I cough on exhaled, pent-up “I love yous”
Given where I placed those photographs,
There is still no one above you.
I have to make room for new Polaroids
Ones with a clear smile
Ones that revive me from cardiac arrest.

You are the cause of heart failure
The symbol of it written here
And if I let go for one last time,
All that would be left are flat lines.
I’m already close enough to death as it is.

The MakeUp BreakUp Poem

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I’m sorry.
For that poem.
Yeah
That poem
And for this one, too.

Do you remember when our world was one?
When our young love was joined at the ventricle
Our vessels spoke the same language
And I didn’t have to travel across bloodstreams or oceans to know if you smiled today.
Turmoil reached the surface
Tension mounted until goodbye rocked our foundation like earthquakes
At that moment, I realized farewells are natural disasters.

I took the seismograph and made it art
Turned the readings into words and translated everything prodding at my heart
People loved it.
Lost in the adoration,
Was the isolation of our continent splitting apart.

I apologize for profiting from your pain
Immortalizing our strain until it brought me fame
People flock to observe the history of our chasm
They treasure our split like the Grand Canyon
With all their oohs ahhs
And their thunderous applauding
The closer I listen to the clapping,
I hear your tears falling.

After the praise stops,
That poem’s still about you.
And even in all my regret,
I still found time to write this one, too.
At least I used makeup running from your cries
And not the dripping blood from digging the blade into your spine
Though that poem for me was medicinal
I never considered if your need to heal was greater than mine.

This may seem like a silk-wrapped excuse.
But
See it my way.
Despite any of my hurt
That poem may help others get through theirs.
I would have never written without you
So please forgive me
And admire your own work.

Fairytale

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It is a beautiful night.
Guards lower like sunsets
Or the shoulder straps of dresses
And fall to the bedroom floor
I am looking for a naked, lively frame in a window of opportunity
So I can activate in me all that is dormant.

I hide, cloaked “Once upon a time…”
To uncover a prologue in a smile.
I hunger to be among the living;
And search for a spirit willing to roam the darkness with me while I figure out how to survive the Sun.
To lend me her melanin
To share her blood.
My desire is anemic.
It pales in comparison to the warmth of her concern and love.
I want to be better.
She wants me to be better.
That’s why we meet in my domain.

She offers herself for my embrace.
I smile, fangs salivating, with my hands around her waist.
We look at us in the mirror and only see her bliss reflected.
She can feel me,
But when she needs to see me for confirmation,
I am not there.
I turn maybe into a death wish
Sweet kisses that sink into her neck,
Then gradually turn her against what she used to be.
Welcomed to The Brood.
She touches the wounds near her throat.
But since she isn’t the vessel with my cure,
I become her Rogue.
With her life at stake, I paint one in the silvery shimmer of my hope and drive it into her heart
Or line her coffin in cloud gray for when she sleeps through the day.
And spare her of the destruction of seeing the sunrise of my dreams.
Either way, she became lifeless from helping me feed.

Fairy tales don’t always finish with everyone alive
Not every character gets to see, “happily ever after.”
Sometimes, the allure of potential masks as denoument,
Waiting in the twilight for the next generous neck to bite.

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