Poetically Profound

There are cobwebs
In my head
The spiders long laid to rest
Barren the attic of my mind
Cannot find
Anything that you left
Run my hands through my hair
Dreamcatchers snare my nightmares
I’ve weaved through despair
Lines where
I’m alive despite the lack of care
Lungs search for air
There is nothing that resides here
I’m doing nothing but housing sorrow, dread and death
Tears that have dried out and stained my face
They would remain if it wasn’t for the rain
That at times took their place
There’s atrophy in my chest
Where my heart used to be
It’s decomposed and decayed away
Completely gone except the stench
Void
Locked my joy in the cellar
Along with my smiles, cheers and grins
The noise
Just a melancholy a capella
Humming deep from within
A solemn soundtrack
Playing over and over again in my head
And now that
Now that you left
I only have these cobwebs
These cobwebs and this damned atrophy in my chest

As tempting as it was
There was enough blood
Between us
To create a flood
I ventured deep within my own mind
Trying to define time
There’s no such thing as forever so I had to leave you behind
Hope you understand why…
Why the stars shine so bright
Why a flower smells so perfect
Why you feel so alive
Why it still keeps hurting
Poetry can’t even hope to describe
The pain in your eyes
I hurt too…somewhere deep inside
Leaving you behind
Was the hardest thing I had ever done
But I had to leave you behind so that you may survive
…And stay alive
…And rise
Above…
The flood

Post my May poetry throughout the day. Hope you enjoy & remember to stay profound..

My heart folded along your lines

Sometimes a heart that’s perforated doesn’t die

graffitiesprit:

The cardigan
tears tight from
these shoulders
that sing hymns
as they carry,
and stripped to
the simplest bones,
I am he who
must undream
himself from 
old skins:　
wavering.

blankpagesandinvisibleink:

  not all poetry is written
 nor does every poet write, 
   my lover is a poet who
  turns skin to parchment
   and composes sonnets
          in the night. 

zannus:

In this heat, the bullet is impossible
to be bitten. The biceps
cultivate sweat while Voltaire
argues against arguments
too unimportant for the saltwater
and the waves stack up to betray
the simple act of falling in love.

Falling in love. Falling in
future. Over the falls. Face-
first into an unloneliness flushed
to the quick with her.