Writing
Summer
It's drifting now
As summer time blazes through the chill and
I remember that scent in the air
It seems contentment has found me
Even in my tiredness and
Boredom it's always
Temporary.
Automated capitalisation and I listen to my
Twisted lyricisms that seem to be so
Sad
But they bring something to my life
And they always said pain makes good poetry
But I'm not dying any more.
My mind found itself and once upon a time
When the night times were too long I left
Marks on my soul that won't leave me
But I can wait
And I can dream of holiday afternoons staring at the
Roof in hazy half-sleep with best friends of the
Past.
And there were so many stars there
And the moon lately seems to
Light up the world that little bit more than it did
Last year
So I will go back there one day with or
Without you
And even though I miss you sometimes
It's not worth being so insecure just to
Calm your confusion.
I did love you
But it's hard to love someone who makes the world so
Dark
And I've learned to be happy with reality and not cry
Through the nights because I can't find my
Braided boy
And I can't be my
Golden girl
You know who you are
And now I do.
The trees seem to hum with me
Because on Friday afternoon I realised
It's all right to sing along to sk8er boi if that's how you feel
It's pretty in the real air and suddenly I know why I've
Battled with you and I know
I am who I want to be.
Almost.
Scribbled springtime and the dew on the grass makes me smile
And I wrote it all down and almost
Burned it through my tears and my pain and my
Almost blood
And I hated and cursed in my mind and I thought (I knew then)
That the world stopped with you.
And I've found my dreams and they're just images
Of pretty boys and pretty girls and
Childish fun repeating the words a few seconds late
Just to annoy the rest of them because we knew
And I still have them all pinned on my walls to remind me of
How unreal they are
And of course, how much I love them.
It's always going to be there, imprinted in little
Tingling misspellings and oddly worded
Cut
Lines
My poetry has made its mark on the world
And time goes by and
I can still write when I'm not
Bleeding.
And I remember I said
We all sing Tori Amos sometimes
Yes it's an inside joke and only you could ever understand
But you've probably forgotten now and I don't want
You to read and enjoy any more
I want you to be a rock star when you're older and I can
Cast my nets and interlink b and m to make you
Real again
Because you'll have joined them by then
(If I can be Charlotte you can do it).
And I want to make my stories about you
And about how I loved you
How teenaged I was and how
Childish I still am
So tonight I'm going to sit and imagine you singing
With your lip ring
And imagine me at the back like my whisper red head
With her green ballerina (only you're so punky)
And write your lyrics twisted into my adorations and
String keyboards.
You do confuse me and you do make me hate you
And you made your hand bleed and I wanted so much to just
Bleed with you like she did (not helpful)
But you and your pathetic mysticisms made me angry instead
And I can't say 'no' because 'are you okay?' is so stupid.
I read little fairy stories and I laugh because it's funny
And I cry because he's hurting and I know I'm not
Normal
Because he's not real but that's no big deal
Because I always loved him and now he's my big brother,
He looks after me.
Then it hit the sun and I listened over and over to
'Haemoglobin' and hoped that something would be clear
And I could cry and cry and someone would see but
Who wants attention any way?
So I kept it hidden except to one who I never really saw
And I know she pitied me but I've always been a hider
And I like it better when they can't see my face because then I'm just
Words and I'm more
Real.
It made me so
Unpretty.
Advanced and beautified to fit into my
Paragraphs
I listened to my 'other' just to find the way
To sing in Japanese and make it all dance through the pages
Because that's the way it HAS to be
You don't write a poem and not exaggerate.
Just like you don't write a diary and not
Tip it towards you (biased honey).
Another three pages of nonsense.
I am happy really.
Just a little over the edge.