Smother
sd
I got bored today. So I hit up a video I had made for my girlfriend months back, and the surrealism of the past struck me hard. So hard that if I hadn’t put my silly expanse of emotions for her into writing, it’d manifest itself in silly forms. My fingertips conjured up a paragraph that I’ve sent to her and only her, and from that I pulled this poem. It’s the most you kiddos will get, haha.
Dedicated to my girlfriend. Happy longest relationship, darling
perhaps it isn’t so much our knowledge of each other’s names
or our knowledge of each other’s touch;
because i’ve learnt more in the time i’ve spent in your arms
than the decade of cigarettes i’ve smoked away at my mate’s Saturday-night parties
(in conclusion: you’re only as close as the hours you’ve spent on the other)
and when i glance back,
(sorry i know i promised you i wouldn’t)
it’s like i’m in the hypnagogic stage of sleep
contemplating the immaturity and naivety of our past selves
the ones whose minds never ascended
or never even attempted to scale the Saturn-high tower of time
and where it sets us meager humans
(in conclusion: she’s stolen my sense of time
..and my care for it)
back then we said things to say them
and it’s two years later and we’re saying the same things,
but we’re meaning those things too
100% of the way
and it pains me, darling,
that realisation of the cracking of your skin
that each day i’d watch disseminate, but never eliminate
i’m trying to rectify the gaps, seal the apertures,
but the process is slow
and i’ll always be the villian for those years i let wash over
and decompose inside of your veins
(in conclusion: i’m sorry)
we’re taught that angels exist
but with this world i’ve grown subjected to,
i never fathomed nor understood how one would surely exist, and show their existence in nothing but good,
but take no credit?
the very moment i delved into your ruptured skin in order to stitch the fabric back together,
i became aware that they do;
and that i’ve been talking to one for two years
i’m sorry it took me so long to realise
but i realise now
and this same realisation has sparked my surveillance in others
perhaps they are like you were —
with a ribcage spewing with screams
but suture-impaled lips, credit to circumstance
and this same cognisance has moved me to gouge foxholes
and carefully plant those seeds of surface-laid "I love you"’s that remained stationary for so long
with the cognisance,
i’ve made my own garden
and my god,
it’s fucking beautiful
(in conclusion:
i love you)
30 March, 2014 ©
Dedicated to my girlfriend. Happy longest relationship, darling
perhaps it isn’t so much our knowledge of each other’s names
or our knowledge of each other’s touch;
because i’ve learnt more in the time i’ve spent in your arms
than the decade of cigarettes i’ve smoked away at my mate’s Saturday-night parties
(in conclusion: you’re only as close as the hours you’ve spent on the other)
and when i glance back,
(sorry i know i promised you i wouldn’t)
it’s like i’m in the hypnagogic stage of sleep
contemplating the immaturity and naivety of our past selves
the ones whose minds never ascended
or never even attempted to scale the Saturn-high tower of time
and where it sets us meager humans
(in conclusion: she’s stolen my sense of time
..and my care for it)
back then we said things to say them
and it’s two years later and we’re saying the same things,
but we’re meaning those things too
100% of the way
and it pains me, darling,
that realisation of the cracking of your skin
that each day i’d watch disseminate, but never eliminate
i’m trying to rectify the gaps, seal the apertures,
but the process is slow
and i’ll always be the villian for those years i let wash over
and decompose inside of your veins
(in conclusion: i’m sorry)
we’re taught that angels exist
but with this world i’ve grown subjected to,
i never fathomed nor understood how one would surely exist, and show their existence in nothing but good,
but take no credit?
the very moment i delved into your ruptured skin in order to stitch the fabric back together,
i became aware that they do;
and that i’ve been talking to one for two years
i’m sorry it took me so long to realise
but i realise now
and this same realisation has sparked my surveillance in others
perhaps they are like you were —
with a ribcage spewing with screams
but suture-impaled lips, credit to circumstance
and this same cognisance has moved me to gouge foxholes
and carefully plant those seeds of surface-laid "I love you"’s that remained stationary for so long
with the cognisance,
i’ve made my own garden
and my god,
it’s fucking beautiful
(in conclusion:
i love you)
30 March, 2014 ©