mood:
these poems were written a few years back. i thought i would share them with you.
Beautiful Disguises
Abby was familiar with these feelings.
To feel satisfied or happy would be foreign.
Abby wasn�t very fond of change.
She went to extremes to keep from being hurt.
To lie was to protect herself.
The truth left her vulnerable and exposed.
Abby had a hole in her being,
and her soul would leak out quietly.
This hole was big and jagged,
unable to hold the stitches sewn in.
She would pretend it wasn�t there,
she had beautiful disguises she�d designed.
Abby lived in a town called Dismay.
She lived alone with two people,
beside the water in a over-rated neighborhood.
There she slept and cried,
over-analyzed and waited.
It�s just a room and a window ledge.
Abby constantly wrote down her thoughts,
and read them aloud to herself.
She wanted him to see her through
the eyes that she saw herself.
Or at least for a short time.
Then he may love her like she needs to be loved.
Abby doesn�t remember why she feels so incomplete,
she only remembers that she doesn�t like it.
Her eyes closed tightly,
her jaws clenched secure,
she starves for something to appreciate.
Abby has a box full of notebooks,
each full of months worth of pain.
She randomly takes one out,
reminding herself that she�s felt this way for years.
She reads what seems to be written by a stranger,
then looks at herself in the mirror and waves.
***************************
Ran Dumb
Love
what it is to me
what I wish it was to me
admire you
why are you so polite
love you the best way I can
care for you
so afraid of not being taken seriously
feelings of being patronized
why I am so curious
why you are so polite
what I did to make you think you need to treat me so delicately
I am hard to deal with
you are hard to read
why you think I want to know what you�re thinking
';where were they going without ever knowing the way�
I assume that my self-awareness is a fault
my need to be alone
I hear their recorded words
my tears that swell to escape from behind my eyes
you need to spend more time without me
addiction someday haunts with withdrawal
why cant I explain my thoughts and feelings
do you notice the obvious look of deprivation in my eyes
necessity and introspection distort me
your neediness frightens me
society makes me uncomfortable
***********************Tidepool
In this place, I often dream of this person,
in which I comfortably can call my friend.
This person is dark haired and sweet eyed, with a slight
look of curiosity surrounding him.
His skin is light and soft and I touch his shoulder,
to see if he is still awake.
He smells distinctly of affection, honey, and a slight hint of velvet.
Closing my oppressed eyes, I can breathe him in at will.
He possesses some sort of purity,
of what sort, I am unsure.
His morality leaves me feeling corrupted,
as if I have cheated myself out of life all along.
There are those dreaded silences when I�m with this man,
but are in no way awkward.
Never a quiet screaming, never a timid stare.
He has hands that are soft, and grips me just tight enough
to make me feel short of breathe.
I�m drawn to his smell, his hands, and his soulful eyes.
In this dream I am scattered, and he is so good at piecing me back together.
He skillfully holds me, and I feel his heart beating a random rhythm with mine,
making such an erotic tune.
In this dream he is mine, and wants to be just that.
Complete, he exposes pieces of me that previously had been
so guardedly sealed.
If I had one wish, this dream would be shifted into reality,
and I would know the meaning, first hand, of the word complete.
*****************
...i am still the same
ran dumb