[x]

SleeplessBack pressed against the wall,
I stare into three o'clock nothings.
Left with watered-down thoughts,
exhausted, mumbled musings,
I have little more to do than
mutter myself down from
whatever fight I'm losing against myself
as the stars grow all the dimmer.
What about sleepless exhaustion
destroys the barrier between
stream of consciousness and the
structured mind?

Blink and You'll Miss ItThe wind reminds me of
the empty space to my left,
which I swear you filled
only minutes ago.
But if I rested my hand
where you were sitting,
it would be just as cold as
the realization that you're gone.

It's Not Coming BackAnd he was the voiceless, unforgiving wind.
She screamed to his back while he forgot her name,
and each step he took into the sun
was met by the setting of hers.
It's a cold night where she stands,
and she coughs on the frost in her lungs,
choking on the memory of last night's air.
She mourns the death of yesterday
through nostalgic eyes,
and like a child, declares it's only sleeping.

AcheIt comes and goes
like an unwelcome houseguest,
leaving me with messes I don't need,
and it never shuts the door
to keep the cold out.
I tried shutting off the lights
and closing the blinds,
twisting the key in the padlock
and boarding the windows,
but as long as light can
seep through the cracks,
this shadow will follow
and dig its fingers into my shoulders.
I bruise easily, it knows,
and it revels in watching
me shift in discomfort
while it grips me.
Like a ghost,
it won't let go.

Burning HeartWe built a beautiful pyre,
and in my heart,
I'm holding your hand as it burns.
The sparks could become the stars,
jewels in Orion's belt.

I'd lace my fingers through yours
in a final act of faith
while we stare down the smoke
cradling the moon,
and each piece of kindling
that crumbles in on itself
leaves me a little less broken.

The light flickers,
so do the corners of your lips.
We needed this.

AdriftRun headlong into the wind with me.
We are only ships on this endless blue,
without anchor, north star, or compass spinning.
Find me as I lose myself with you.

Honorary Sun SpotI'm going to tie a string
around the new dawn
and make the sun my balloon.
I won't let go as it keeps rising,
I just need warmth and this seems
like the best way to find it,
the day taking me with it
round the world.
Take a picture of your rooftop,
and I'll wave as I go by.

Strung OutConsider me hanging on the line,
a dress without a body waiting for the sun,
vibrant when she's not heavy, waterlogged.
As a child, I enjoyed making orange smiles,
while wondering why we didn't have
a clothesline stretching from tree to tree
like I'd seen on the television.
I admired the way skirts became birds,
picked up by the wind they adored,
while sheets grabbed the wind like a sail,
and the clouds were always made of cotton,
and the denim sat like lead.

Now every time I put myself out to dry,
the sky gets heavy and breaks on me.
I am halfway towards being ready,
and then the rain rips me down again.
Maybe that's why

It's Not So Bad When The Ceiling Stares BackIt's almost five and
when the sun takes her
olympic strides towards
the westernmost curve in the horizon,
I find myself lonely.
But I know my shadow will hold my hand
as long as it doesn't get dark again.
So I brighten my room with an electric click,
shut the shades to keep out the night,
and search for myself to the tune of
nobody sitting next to me when
I harmonize with an empty bed.
I can almost feel our mutual heartbreak
when I stare into the ceiling cracks.

SeparateYou are on the opposite side
of this window.
Press your palm against the pane,
against mine.
The heat of our fingers will
fog the glass,
and in this mist we create,
we will finally meet.

Papercuts and RecollectionsI had forgotten your love letters
until they cut my finger when I
grazed the bottom of my drawer.
Folded crisp and neat,
some of the ink had smudged like
the crimson filling the whorls of my thumb.

I could hear your voice clearly,
saturated in the scrawling script.
You promised me forever,
now forever's gone.

Lost in that rush of reanimated feeling,
I could almost remember
the way your cheek felt resting
warm against my hair,
how you smelled like home.

The traces of you lingered like
the last hours of yesterday
before turning to the smell of dust
and the feel of paper too dry
to write on again.

And It Broke My HeartAnd it broke my heart,
so I turned down all the pictures
and I tried to forget
where I put your necklace but
it's still reflected in the mirror,
lurking behind my jewelry box.

And it broke my heart
when I took the yearbook from the shelf
and stumbled on your picture
not so accidentally,
right before your scrawled
"Forever yours."

And how to regain composure
when turning down the sheets,
when lying on the bed,
while thinking of all the alternate worlds
where my hand is in your hand, but...

that's before I changed the pictures
and let tarnish choke that silver charm
and put the yearbook in the attic
next to the music that

GodGod is in her rocking chair,
wood creaking as she hums back and forth.
I want to climb onto her sun-warmed lap,
breathe in the smell of air dried dresses,
May breezes caught in her floral-print skirt.
Her hands are gentle as they stroke my hair,
her knitting going still when I rest my head
on her knees where her yarn was.
She holds me as I cry.

A Slower Way to DrownCry me an ocean crashing,
its sultry blues rolling.
I am tumbling through the deep,
and I've forgotten I can't breathe.
Salt in my lungs, rattling.
I am buried up to my neck,
my head facing the tides that
come whispering in.

The Last SunsetMy broken shadow stumbled on
and left me dragging like the sun.
The twisted branches snagged the sky...
how skeletal, their fingers stretching.
The earth I knew choked on the last
of yesterday's dried and cracking dreams,
now I am stumbling through the dust
chasing my spirit through withered leaves.

Browse More Like This

Download File
HTML, 563 bytes more ▶

More from *callerofcrows

Little SinsMy lips blister at your name;
you are the devil on my skin.
Each moment is another bead
falling off my rosary-
rolling,
clattering,
sticking somewhere between common sense
and a brimstone heart.
Prayer is but a temporary balm-
relief in upturned eyes and cool resolve,
but burning at the back of my skull
is a hollow cry
for anything but this brand of redemption.

Empty LettersI know I'll find nothing,
but it's worth hoping that
somehow I'll hear from you
though it can't be good for me.
Every day I spend my thoughts
on a hope as false as wooden bones
that you'll take it on yourself
to remember how to talk to me.
We were friends once.
My arms will never tire
of throwing water on this bridge
you've set alight,
but my heart is burnt
and becoming exhausted.

The Things I PonderPerhaps I was reading too much,
sucked into "The Corner of Bitter and Sweet"
where the older man with the grief-lined face
places flowers on the tombstone of his wife
and talks with her into the overcast sky.

While I listen to more songs about breaking down,
I wonder if I'll ever find someone of my own
willing to put lilies on my headstone
and tell me what's happening on the ground
though I have no breath to reply.

TinmanMy skull is
sh
sh
shattered
and my brain is like a clockwork;
but there's something in the gears
and they are sticking.

I could
a-a-a-a-ask
for some sort of repair but
my short-circuit voice-box
is out of date
and my creator-God is gone.

If only I could trade
these burnt out eyes for real ones,
and get myself some sort of heart
that wouldn't tick.

Re-KindlingShe held the moment in her lungs.
It lingered in the air
like a spiderweb strand;
she could feel its presence
more than see it.

She meditated on the human condition,
one hand on her chest like a prayer.
Hopeless was her heart two minutes ago,
now faithful in its hummingbird thrum.

"Ah," it whispered in her ear,
"you do remember love."

FacelessI have photographed this trail,
from its matchbox beginning
to the church it burned down
and when faced with the unholy trinity
in the center of my chest...
Past,
Present,
Future,
I am overwhelmed.

I want to leave tear stains on his shirt
but when I look to his face for comfort,
it has changed.
I am disillusioned...
for years love had a visage,
and now it's blank
or ever-shifting.

My father once told me
the heart's a bandit.
He never mentioned
it wore different masks.

View Gallery · View Prints

Featured in Groups:

Not currently featured in any groups.

Details

Submitted: January 31, 2012
File Size: 563 bytes

Link

Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 15
Favourites: 14 [who?]
Views: 101 (0 today)
Downloads: 4 (0 today)

License

Creative Commons License

Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.

[x]

Heavy

by *callerofcrows, Jan 31, 2012, 6:24:45 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

When you let me go
by the side of the road,
please remember the string
that you tied to my soul.
I'm the balloon you inflated
just to let go;
the night is too cold
and I'm sinking so slowly down.

Why'd you have to cut this
delicate cord,
the thin wire trailing
from my heartbeat to yours?
Remember the science of
the desolate sky,
because the night is too cold
and I'm sinking so slowly down.

Heavyby *callerofcrows

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

My muse is working overtime! I'm feeling okay, honestly, but this popped into my head. It'd make a good song.

The Artist has requested Critique on this Artwork

Please sign up or login to post a critique.

~~joy 0 0~~

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

*LittleFishPenguin95 Jun 7, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

I.Love.Your.Poetry. haha This is so sad, but it's written so wonderfully I'm smiling. Ahh!

Reply

*callerofcrows Jun 7, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Aaaah, thank you so much!!!!!

Reply

*LittleFishPenguin95 Jun 7, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

You're very welcome.

Reply

*Mrs-Freestar-Bul Feb 6, 2012 Writer

I love it

Well written. I love how you ended both stanzas with the same line, it made the poem sound deeper.

Reply

*callerofcrows Feb 6, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you!

Reply

~RadiationAlpha Feb 3, 2012 Professional Writer

Mystic

Reply

*callerofcrows Feb 3, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thanks!

Reply

!meta-exposure Feb 2, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

"The string you tied to my soul." I love that.

Reply

*callerofcrows Feb 2, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you!

Reply

!meta-exposure Feb 2, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

"The string you tied to my soul." I love that.

Reply

Previous
1
2
Next