Pivot.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Another perspective on betrayal.

Submitted: April 01, 2008

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Submitted: April 01, 2008

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I put you to rest in that far corner of my backyard but not in peace,
knowing you'd never sleep so easily while reminiscing these memories
as a cure for this disease and honestly, that's what I was aiming for.
I knew six feet would never suffice, so I dug ten twice
and spent the next few hours thinking of how all things in life are the same when we change,
hollowing graves for those runaway thoughts that never sit right in the back of our brains.
Like the loose adhesive between our prosthetic hearts, they opened like a dam of chemical solutions,
combining tiny fractions of anemic heart beats and undissolved offbeat conversations, thus resulting in meaningless betrayal.
I use my heavy, purple heart to count the miles I've driven; yards of rope I've intertwined into hundred of nooses,
all hoping to break loose and hang these excuses because you've never once proven to be worthy enough.
This past year; I've been slipping in and out of new faces, none of which fit right or even feel real from the touch of a stranger.
And there's never been any more true of a statement that devils never could sing lullabies
because I stood behind you like a page of words caged inside stained ink, standing silent like a stage pretending the words could eventually sing.

...And you never could fucking sing for me...

You only continued to hum the tune of that song you love without ever catching a breath,
the one I could never make out beneath your coughing cigarette.
Those moments I never wanted to forget are now the reasons why I smoke less.
At best; I remain oblivious to that striving frame, surrounding that lump of black dirt in my backyard,
my catalytic veins of unmarked postcards, my empty pen of a gravedigger's graveyard.

Rest in fucking peace.

(Copyright)


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