Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Ghosts of Memories

These streets are haunted 
by ghosts 
of happy memories and 
shared smiles, 
turned bitter and black 
by the waves of hatred, 
and heartbreak. 

Insignificant places
suddenly have meaning.

She can't hide from them, 
the ghosts that grasp her heart 
and squeezes tightly 
until all she can feel 
is an emptiness, 
a dry numbness. 

She welcomes it.
She tells herself it's better than the pain.

She can't feel it 
when her heart is gone, 
stolen away by the waifs; 
she feels full, 
but she is only full of dark anger 
and bitterness.
Indeed she is empty, 
a mere shell of herself. 

All she wants to do is sink into the darkness 
and forget him.

I'm still like this sometimes, even though I keep on thinking I'm finally over him. Random things and places trigger memories, which just make me even sadder. Sometimes when you're heartbroken, you just need to be given time to sulk and be angry before you can heal. 

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Untitled 4

Ages have gone
since I last saw you,
stones have weathered and eroded
while vines lie withered and death
along the old, crumbling walls.
I walk in to the old creaking house and see
the old rose in its old dusty vase,
long dead, only a shell
of the rose I gave to you with dewy petals
that smelled of a sweet, fragrant scent.
And when I see you,
your appearance is that of the rose,
withered and dry,
but a radiance shines through,
erasing the earthly body that is your shell,
and you become
a young, fresh rose.

A friend asked me to write a poem with the theme that "nature's beauty is transient, but one's beauty will never fade." 

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Untitled 3

I look at you, 
and see that you are different; 
but is it really you that has changed?
Perhaps it is me.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

What is Love? (Revisited)

Love is 
a whispered word, 
a stolen glance across the room 
that throws your perfectly scheduled life 

Love is 
a shouted declaration, 
a grin of joy that can 
quickly fleet into pain. 

Love is 
a small word, 
yet so powerful, 
always hand-in-hand 
with its sibling 

Something simple today. Thanks G for the cute little poem :)

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

The Chasm

We pushed away 
our conflicting thoughts, 
too afraid that what we would say 
would push us apart, 
and yet 
it was those unsaid words
that created a crack, 
which quickly turned into a chasm 
between us.

Sorry if this put a downer on anybody's Valentine's Day! I just needed to get this one out.
Today, I read this beautiful book of poetry called "Think Again" by JonArno Lawson and illustrated by Julie Morstad. With simple, yet deeply profound poems, the Lawson is able to capture the essence of teenage romance and relationships. Here's a review by the Quill and Quire:

I wrote this as a response to this poem called "The Missing Conversation":

The crack: almost invisible, but what seems 
whole is broken--

Important words went missing 

Between two 

Who should have spoken.

Thursday, February 9, 2012

the dead rose

our love was 
a single rose that we kept guarded, 
placed under a glass dome, 
hidden away from other eyes. 
we only lifted the protection when we were alone; 
a single touch, a single rose. 
no matter what we do now, that rose is now dead, 
it suffered in its sanctuary, 
in its tiny glass prison. 
I try to pick up the fallen petals, 
wishing I could breathe new life into 
our fragile, fragrant, precious rose 
but it only keeps wilting on the palm of my hand 
no matter what I do. 
we can place the petals back onto the heart with glue 
but we can't bring that rose back to life; 
our time has passed 
no matter what we do.

sometimes, that's the way love goes...