Category: Poetry

Creative Writing, Dating/Relationships, Poetry

Poetry: Edges

kylefreelander

She is all edges

and I see you try

to sand her down

so she is as smooth

as a stone made for skipping

across your heart,

but still edges grow about her.

Like plants in the doormat,

they appear when you are not looking,

as if overnight. You shake

your head in disbelief

as she stands strong

against you when you hoped

she would melt at your feet

and heed your command

–yet again –but she does not

crumble and she does not bleed

for you anymore. Steel warrior

of her life starting today,

and you dare to ask

for tomorrow.

 

 

 

Photo courtesy of flickr

Poetry

Poetry: Tepid Water

kylefreelander

Your fingertips caress my skin

and I shiver in fear

of what this all means

as you pull webs

from my heart to take home

for display in your showcase

of conquests. I wait

for your return because I know

this will not be the last time

I see you, the last time I feel you.

You are the only one who reaches

for me anymore. Damaged goods.

Debris covered shore that no one

looks to love anymore.

Your touch is cool with years

but it is the only warm embrace

I receive, that I will receive,

until you have pulled

every last grain of me

into your depths

for a proper burial

out at sea where I can drown

in the past I will never escape.

Creative Writing, Poetry

Poetry: Love Sludge

kylefreelander

You choose to make me live a lie

when that is not a choice you are allowed

to make alone. I know you and I know

when you lie, when you cross lines

only to pretend you are innocent.

I gave you the chance to confess,

to put the pain of a lie touching

my “I love you”s to rest, but you continue

to play with me and my heart. I try

to move forward with you but lies

keep us tethered to the past, unresolved

and consequently bitter to the point

where three simple words become

so complicated, pouring out like wet sand

instead of sugar. I want us to move along,

to go forward, but I cannot be the one dragging

you through the sludge we’ve made

with every lie and secret and half-truth

that stole our honesty and our love.

Creative Writing, Dating/Relationships, Poetry

Poetry: Suppose

kylefreelander

Suppose we never met.
Suppose we never dove into love.
Suppose you weren’t at the bar
to catch me as I fell down.
Suppose we never kissed.
Suppose we never felt the fireworks.
Suppose I wasn’t there to fill
the void she left inside of you.
Suppose we never lied.
Suppose we never said goodbye.
Suppose we never did
get it quite right.

Creative Writing, Dating/Relationships, Poetry

Poetry: Gatekeeper

kylefreelander

I know there are times you don’t see me,

times when we are apart and I am so far

from you that I don’t cross your mind.

Those are the times the gates fly open

and you round up the cattle to keep

you company in the empty field.

You tell yourself it’s innocent,

I know you do, that it’s all in good fun.

It’s a game with no rules

but everyone, including me, know

when it’s played. I fear these times

the most. It feels like my heart

is buried under stone after stone,

a weight so heavy I begin to choke.

You know nothing of that though.

It is a concern I keep to myself,

in my locket that I guard better

then I am able to guard my heart

from you and your field that feeds

plenty when I am away. I wonder

how long it takes for something

to remind you of me, if it happens

at all. Does it take minutes or hours

or even days? Maybe you don’t think

of me the whole time I am away

for I am not there to keep them at bay

and you are too weak in the knees

not to fall at the feet of these sheep

and ask them to play with a big bad wolf.

Creative Writing, Poetry

Poetry: Pillow Top

kylefreelander

Some stories end

and some go on.

 

I told you “I love you,”

but I was wrong.

 

Too many nights of uncertainty

were lying next to me,

 

pillow top couldn’t make lies

STOP

nor put me to rest

anymore.

 

I tell you a story

of boy meets girl.

 

You buy a ring.

You buy a dream.

 

With words like diamonds,

you enchant and hurt me,

 

relentlessly, effortlessly,

until tears are considered normal.

 

It was a story of a girl

who loved a boy too much.

 

A cut I know won’t heal,

a scar I will always feel,

 

tongue lashing, we’re crashing

and I cry out for you—-

 

Some stories end,

and some go on.

 

Boy meets girl,

and it was wrong.

 

There was a ring

and a dream,

 

and a girl who loved

a boy too much.

 

I say, “I love you,”

but the pillow top

makes it all STOP.

Creative Writing, Poetry

Poetry: Windows

kylefreelander

Windows that have been shut should not be opened.

From time to time you can glance through them

and remember a life you once led, but be careful:

too much time starting out a window surveying

memory lane is a trap. You don’t look forward

because you’re too busy looking back. With palms

pressed against the fragile glass, you beg for the familiar,

the embrace that once protected you,

instead of seeking something new. You don’t age

and you don’t grow, you’re always that little girl

crying at home alone. Saliva kiss marks on salt-stained glass

from a girl who knew it wouldn’t last. A slam of a fist

with a wish to be fixed that no one can grant.

A crack in the glass where he tries to make his way back

to her but she cannot be found waiting there. She has changed

and she has grown, done staring at closed windows getting cold,

and when he reaches for her again she knows to pull back and turn away,

for this wasn’t forever they were facing together. It was the end.

Creative Writing, Poetry

Poetry: My Sombrero Is Too Big

kylefreelander

I don’t like writing poems

about death, especially his,

because it would mean

having to accept that he

was never coming back

into this world to hold

my grandmother’s hand

and play that song on repeat

about getting sombreros

for Christmas.

It would mean no return

to draw whiskers

on my face in marker

stolen from my

Doodle Bear,

and it would mean

birthday cards

only from grandma

when it was always

from the two of them,

and it would mean

that he had passed

away and that I miss

him more than I ever

let on, because it’s hard

to let go of those

you never wanted

to leave.