ironicwordchoice

[ironicwordchoice]

I run with peasants all the time

Running with the pheasants

(via)

[ironicwordchoice]

CHARACTER A: (looks at grave and turns around, facing the other direction) This is ridiculous! You are ridiculous, <insert name for Character B here>. I refuse to allow this, I simply refuse. (A beat) That used to work, didn't it? I use to be able to just refuse and you would give in so easily. You never wanted to argue. You were good like that. (Turns to face grave) I always remember that time in the third grade when the guy I liked told me no man could ever love me and you waited until recess and then punched him in the face. You got expelled. You were so proud. (Laughs and looks down at the flowers in their hand) You always liked sunflowers. You always said how they reminded you of happiness and sunsets. I brought you some. They were on sale at the grocery store. (Walks over and lays them down at the foot of the grave and kneels next to them) I didn't just buy them just because they were on sale, of course. I didn't care how much they costed. (Beat) I…I guess I came here because that is what I am suppose to do. Isn't that what people do? They visit their bestfriend's grave at 3 a.m.? (Laughs) You would be so mad at me right now. You'd be furious. You would have said, "Why do you not have a coat on? I may be dead, but you'll get a cold and that is not worth it!" (Laughs) I wish I could talk to you. (Runs a hand down the grave stone) I always had you there to talk to. I took you for granted, I know. I'm sorry. You deserved better. (Scoots over and hugs grave stone from the side, snuggling into it) You deserved the world and I couldn't give it to you. (A moment of silence, longer than a beat) I don't know much about how the universe works, but I hope you are up there, in the night sky. I hope you became a huge ass planet that has like three moons and orbits backwards. You'd defintely be one of those planets. You could also be a tree, I could see that. Or a dog. A golden retriever. I can see it now, you'd make an amazing dog. (Beat) Maybe I should get a dog. (Looks at watch) It's 4 a.m. now. Maybe it's time I was on my way. (Stands and looks down at the grave) Hey, it's not like I will be gone forever. Besides, I'll know right where you are. (Turns and takes some step away, but stops and turns back to the grave) I know…I love you too.

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I ask only a few simple requests of you

Rise every morning, basking in the glow of the future of the day

And fall into a lavendar peace with every falling night

The trees bow and sway to greet you with your steps

So bow in return and allow them to marvel in your shadow

The wind sings a song that lift the air in and out of your chest

So take a deep breathe and remember that you are enough

The moon says a short but loving farewell

So say goodbye in reply but never forget

and the sun beams with the brightest hello I have ever seen

So greet the day and allow the things that are suppose to happen to happen and those that not suppose to happen to fade away

The rains hums and beats a rhythm that echoes into the inner chambers of your soul

So drum your heart to it's song and make beautiful music

The flowers bask in your sunlight and their faces follow your stead

So shine bright so they can grow strong enough to brighten the days that belong to the children of this world

The rivers steeps cold so it may refresh you in the warm love of the sun

So swim in the chill of it's love and absorb it's kindness through the chill bumps of your skin

I simply wish a few things of you

May your feet carry your wisdom to roads not yet traveled

And your arms strong enough to hold the wisdom you will be gifted

May your tongue taste the sweetest words that you may give to ones closest to you

And maybe your eyes see wonders that exist merely to simply exist

May you keep your gifts in your chest so others may see how truly powerful you are

And may you speak to every stranger so they may be able to experience merely a moment of your presence

I ask of you to stay

Strong

Kind

Caring

Passionate

Forgiving

And lastly,

So in love with being alive

[ironicwordchoice]

She made all the poems make sense

How beautiful a love can be that it makes words come true?

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He reminds me to be alive

He refreshes me that there still goodness in this world like a child who still believes a fairy collects his teeth

He is talented

God, he is so talented

His eyes keep changing colors

Blue?

Green?

Hazel, with a air of a matter of fact

So I can see his world

He is a man of God

Blessed with feet that can withstand death and tragedy

A black jacket and a variety of brightly colored t-shirts

Black tap shoes

If he were a storm, he would leave you

Find me in him where his voice can only reach

An angel hidden deep inside him, lounging next to his self esteem and my bitterness

No, not bitterness

Jealousy

He is going to make a woman so happy one day

He hides behind a rain shower of complements

He is there

Confusion and loneliness

I just need to dig deeper and I will find him

Like a piece of treasure buried deep and forgotten

Worth looking for

He has so much love

No wonder he was born on Valentine's day

He can be my bestfriend and my worst nightmare at the same time

Because he can destroy me so easily

One day

He will leave me

And I will be so glad

To have touched a piece of heaven without dying completely

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Like the newly fallen snow

Beginnings have begun

With a love greater than any sound

That has ever been sung

The world moves impossibly slow

Yet faster than I could ever want

If it stopped moving, would I be happy again?

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I do not understand love, I am simply a child

She loved him like a two puzzle pieces that were not from the same puzzle

My feelings balancing delicately between the words, "I like you, but not right now."

I found that the love I was searching for could only exist in a person who was unable to love me

The truest irony that needed to exist so someone, one day, could write a movie about it,

a movie that needs to be watched and laughed at so some other human beings can feel a little less alone in their own suffocating abandonment

I learned at a young age that love didn't just mean all the time

My mother loves my father but not all the time

Not when he sneaked his cigarettes like his own personal secrets

Not when he forgets to pick up the milk

Not when he argued with her on a topic she research just so they could argue about it

Not when he yells like a train whistle at the boarding station, demanding to be heard and loud enough to hurt my ears

I always thought I was going to die alone, in a white hospital room, with its white bed and its four white walls and its white flowers.

I didnt think I deserved to leave behind love and happiness like a child's toy, carelessly thrown out a moving car window without the idea of consequences

I was told when I was young that I was clever, too clever for my own good

That if society were to put me in a box, I would cut shapes into the sides of it and pretend it was a rocketship flying to Mars

I was a wild animal that needed to be tamed and constructing into the neat paper corners that were folded so I could be adored by someone like you

Discovered so neatly that you only had to tug at my edges to have me displayed out in front of you with no secrets or hidden motives

You were suppose to find me like an Easter egg, forgotten among the bushes and discovered Mid-July by the dog

Until then, I was suppose to find myself and be a perfect human being

With freckled cheeks and the voice of a metaphoric angel in a place that may or may not exist

I couldn't lose you

You were the intake of breath I held in my mouth as I submerged my head under the waves of constant and total loneliness

A final meal, set in my hands by my beautiful God, to be consumed only by me

I adore you

I see you, in a factual state of being that I cannot comprehend on my own, I need to think about it

You give me gifts of reassuring words and touches of peace that seep into my skin like blueberries into your favorite cup of tea in the morning because you dispise coffee

You despise me

I am your cup of coffee and you are my cup of tea

I love you but not the same way you love me

You bleed into my soul like the colors and whites bleed together in the washer

I told you to sort your laundry, you lazy boy

[ironicwordchoice]

I tried to write a poem about him, but I didn't know what words to use. He never got to tell his own story. His life was cut short and using a metaphor to describe it would be selfish because I still get to use metaphors. I get to keep surviving without him, with no choice in the matter. If God is real, then why did He kill one of the most beautiful things he created? How am I suppose to love that being? Words stop having merit to them when you take away the passion and meaning behind them. And I am just supposed to keep living? I have to grow old and imagine what it may have been like if he hadn't died? To exist without love is cruel and undeserving to anyone. You can kill anyone, but you can't destroy them until you take away what they loved most. Why am I being punished? Why was he punished? Does karma truly exist? My love could have never have done anything to deserve death. He walked with love. He talked with love. He laughed with love. He was love.

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I told him once that Love wasn't just telling someone you loved them.

It's a half of a sandwich.

It's running downhill on a icy path, dangerous, but not enough to stop you from that hug.

It's a wink.

It's a smirk.

It's that twinkle in those eyes.

It's being in separate rooms,

Separate houses,

separate cities,

sperate states,

sperate countries.

But nothing is different at all

It's smiles at photos

Lies when needed

Sacrifices.

It's never being forgotten.

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I forgot.

History is a blurred picture if the present.

I remembered.

The past is slow. It loves like a grandmother in the deep south that bakes casseroles in sympathy of dead loved ones.

I am a writer.

A lamps purpose is to mimic the sun when the darkness cousumes all innocence.

I forget.

And I'm sorry.

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I feel like I was given a gift.

"To love at such a young age is a gift."

"True love is so rare. You are lucky. You are so young."

Am I lucky?

Waking up and having to remember that horrible night? That horrible message?

Going through each day pretending to fill whole?

To know you were complete and then have your life crash to the floor like a dropped jigsaw puzzle?

Pieces fly everywhere and I can't find some.

He was my pieces.

Looking under the eyes and in the heart of everyone I meet, I try to find them.

Under ornate doorways and a sky full of stars.

I search.

Am I so lucky?

Do you wonder if it all is worth nothing now?

Now that he is gone?

Do you believe you are no longer able to love?

Like a fire that has gone out? Like a sun burnt out and has no more light to give? An empty shell of a beautiful being?

Was I ruined?

I wasn't even given a chance.

He may be dead, but I died along with him.

He took every part of me 16ft. under.

Where it belongs.

[ironicwordchoice]

I am a Sunday Morning

Steamed rolling off a coffee mug

Filled with hot chocolate

Made with a yawn filled appreciation

I have danced in my dreams all night long

As hands intertwined unconsciously

Muscles relaxed

I do not want to move an inch

I am the act of rolling out of bed

Only to roll back into it moments later

I am a longing

For time to stop and take a simple rest for a present moment

I have the lack of purpose

Procrastination

Cookies baked in the oven

Cookie dough out of the container

I am listening with soft ears

Whispers that bounce of lavendar walls

Warmth ringing in my bones

Silence wanted like laughter

I have humor

An inside joke

Treasured and guarded like a child in your arms

Wanted and loved

I am doubt

A foot on the brakes too quickly

Uncertainty in faith

Fear in falling

I have dreams

Heights too far to climb

But not too far to fall

Busted knee caps and 20 stitches

I am loneliness

Longing and aching

Like the sound of ancient floorboards

In my bones

I have hopes

My kindness rings thru the dusty paper

History books filled with love

Cemeteries full of compassion

I am a Sunday Morning

But for now, it is Tuesday night

And I am waiting.

[ironicwordchoice]

He will never see me cry again.

He will never hold my hand and dance without a care in the world again.

He will never sing offkey on purpose to make me laugh again.

He will never make pancakes again, with blueberries.

He will never swim again.

He will never take a long walk in the forest to listen to the trees and the birds again.

He will never see our child be born.

He will never see our wedding day.

He will never help me buy our dream house.

He will never get to meet my best friend.

He will never get to meet my parents.

He will never tell me he loved me again.

He will never read a book again.

He will make me coffee with cream again.

He will never fall asleep next to me again.

He will never be in my arms again.

He will never cry again.

He will never smile again.

[ironicwordchoice]

If you've ever taking a walk in the forest, you'll can easily be gone for quite some time.

When I was twelve, I took a walk in the woods.

"Where have you been? Where did you go?" questioned a silence that was expected but was not presented

A worrisome feeling found just as easily as the words that attach to your throat when you try to tell her you're sorry

I found myself wondering how well the universe would do without me and it answered simply by not answering at all

To take my existence in my hands and offer it to anyone passing by like a man who has lost everything and has no other choice

A man whose soul has been question by the earth itself and asks why he is still breathing

I digged into my soul and found beneath the flowers of want and the seeds of unrequited love that there was still a longing to be seen and heard

I whimpered into the circumambient silence of my friends and begged at the roots of their brains for acknowledgement but I only recieved a disheartening pat on my shoulder and the loose change of words spoken to children when they are sad for no apparent reason

I wanted to see if my absences was the size of hopes and dreams of my childhood, but it only turning out to be the size of the dents in a brand new car hood

The size of the space between a childs words when they are lying though their teeth

I turned around and watched as people grew older and learned how to thrive without my presence

I fought and I clawed and I screamed as I was dragged into the dark, musty attic with the childhood memories, faded photographs and christmas ornaments.

I realized the world would keep on spinning without me.

When I was twelve, I took a walk in the woods

An hour came and passed like the work hours in a day that could be Tuesday or could be Wednesday.

I was not sought after.

I was not called after.

I was not looked after.

The trees did not become alarmed in knowing I was by myself. Neither did anyone else.

I learned the lesson of value that day.

Time is a present sat neatly under a Christmas Tree that is from someone you love more than you could ever express.

Meandering like a river that cannot be controlled

A quiet journey it was.

When I was twelve, I took a walk in the woods.

I came home.

My mother asked me about my walk and continued to cook dinner.

I learned the lesson of trust that day.

Trust, so easily shattered into tiny slivers of love and happiness across my dining room floor

Trust, so easily given like a kiss on a forehead before a goodbye.

You take a walk in the forest and you can be gone for quite some time

When you go into that forest with all that time,

Don't forgot all the things you leave behind to remember you by

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It's cold. It isn't silent like you expect it to be. It's full of noise from the traffic and the wind and the people traveling to places that I can't even imagine and you can't either. It's cold, but not so cold that is unbearable. It is impersonal. Impersonal like the snide comments made by a stranger on a Subway, a Subway that you will probably never ride again oh, and a stranger that you will never see again. It's bitter oh, the wind. Fights like a dog that doesn't know any better, just the eerie whisperings of ancestors inside its head telling it it knows what it should do correctly to survive. It's tiring, tiring like crying for an hour and then having to go to work immediately after. The way the world does not care and does not give time for grievance, but makes you have to grieve. I'm sorry that the world has to be cruel to survive. I am not ised to worlds like yours, a world that cherishes and allows me to be who I want to be. I've only known the world that try to do the opposite. Tried to take every ounce of being out of my bones and tried to squeeze the life out of my blood. It is tiring.

-

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The headlights of the cars that pass me on the interstate home are friends go me that shine so brightly but only for a moment

Whizzing past like a hornet that is unwelcome in a old farm house window

Bright and warm like his eyes when he hears one of his favorite songs

My window dogs up in the corners from the heat blaring from inside

For whatever reason, being cold is too similar to death for me.

I can find his hands on my body, pushing his fingerprints into my skin.

On my hand, my thigh, my arm.

He holds on like a child in a crowded grocery store.

The roar of violins and cellos blares from my speakers. Classical music always made me more calm, like knowing this was something my ancestors enjoy was comforting.

[ironicwordchoice]

Listen

Listen

If I stopped saying “I love you” first, would you ever say it to me again?

The words roll off my tongue and fall just north of your heartbeat

An eyebrow raises in defiance then falls

I run into my problems like my father taught me to

Like a cup of fizzing anger boiling over the edges of my souls

I feel the deep purple rise in you

An ocean I have yet to see comes into view

I cannot out run my own destiny and nether can you

You know this

You smile

I wanted to paint flowers in your heart for the longest time

Trying to believe that was what it was to truly love another

But I could never get it quite right

A working progress, at work.

“Hey, take a deep breath”

I can feel my heart wonder why we do these things

My heartbeat thuds through my skin

The vibrations of my words rattle in my teeth

I open my mouth then close it

Pointless

“I’m here”

My hand closes and grips

I feel the whiteness rise to the surface of my skin

I shake with a feeling of red

I close my eyes and I see all I ever want

I open them and you are standing in front of me

“Always”

I feel the hands of my grandmother

Resting upon my shoulders along with the weights of the world

I look into the eyes of my own future and I sigh

“Pinky promise?”

I smile

You smirk

“Pinky promise.”