Poems

And it's days like today where I feel like if I just had enough faith I could leap from the roof and fly, but there's just something deficient in me that keeps me from believing

[milostpoetry]

Tugging the edges of her ill fitting thrift store cashmere because she loves the finer things but doesn’t want to pay for them.

[milostpoetry]

Lover, lay me down.

Float me in a sea of bed sheets.

Fly with me on a cloud of pillows.

Sink with me into a sea of lust.

Plunge with me into a river of pleasure.

Die with me un petit mort.

Then drift with me into peaceful slumber.

[milostpoetry]

Your fists are paintbrushes, tinting my body in purples and blues.

[milostpoetry]

I want to paint your world with color, but you like me in black and white.

[milostpoetry]

Bury me in my polka-dot dress.

I bought it for you, I wore it for you, and after you were gone I never wore it again.

It was yours the moment you slipped it off my body, just as I was yours the moment you slipped inside my body.

Each stitch and each cell was yours. Without you, they fell into disrepair.

So bury me in that threadbare dress, ribs jutting out and eyes sunken.

Inter me in the ground and give me and the dress back to the earth.

You don’t want us anymore.

[milostpoetry]

My eyelids are droopy with thoughts of you.  Pleasure always makes me sleepy.  The thick fog of dreams descends and you swim through it, To plant a gentle kiss on my lips, And breathe sweet dreams to life With your voice. 

[milostpoetry]

A Pleasant Haunting

Your phantom hands slide over my body while I work. Ghosts of your kisses pepper my shoulders while I drive. Whispers of your voice follow me down the hall. Your spirit is in my bedsheets, Until I hear a tap at my door and you are back in my arms. 

[milostpoetry]

That Dark Thing

My mind is at war and I can't fight it.

My razor blade is too dull and I can't find enough pills.

Drinking myself into a stupor won't make the voices stop.

They keep screaming at me, dark and terrifying voices berating me for being stupid, ugly, horrible, haggish, worthless.

I look at my body and am filled with revulsion, and my fist raises up as I strike myself over and over.

"I hate you I hate you I hate you IhateyouIhateyouIhateyouIhateyou!"

Blood pools under my skin in a deep purple impression of my fist and I break.

Shoulders hunched, knees up, and my body wracked with sobs, I think about every time I just wasn't enough.

That dark thing inside me grows bigger, swallowing me, and in some sick, twisted way, I'm pleased. The less of me there is...the better.

[forexample-whitekidneybeans]

may i enjoy this, perchance?

i hate nicholas cage

in the same way i hate nickelback.

in that i used to enjoy their work,

not for any exceptional artistic merit

but because it was fucking enjoyable.

what a goddam concept.

i’m a lemming, or an imprinted chick, or whatever

i’m what you tell me i should be

then my lack of impulse control throws a wrench in there.

“lets listen to rockstar, but not ironically! i know all the words still!”

“lets watch national treasure 2: book of secrets, mother fucker!”

“lets adventure

like Ben in National Treasure,

find our winning powerball ticket,

tell no one and tear it up because

fuck the government or whatever.

be alone and be shameless,

like Ben in Leaving Las Vegas”

let’s enjoy it.

[milostpoetry]

Snake hiding in the brush Pop princess is not what she seems Hiding behind pretty gowns and simple tunes The snake waits for her prey Sitting patiently in interviews for questions she can use To destroy the reputation of a former lover or friend or anyone who looks at her wrong This snake is venomous Each word of off that little forked tongue is a deluge of hate Each strike of the snake is months of regaining a positive image This snake doesn't want your life, but to siphon off your fame Poor, pretty little pop princess. Just a victim left crying when a boy leaves I bought the albums when I was in high school And stopped when I realized she never left high school When you think a boy breaking your heart is the end of the damn world When you think a fight with a friend can never be mended When you'll spread rumors and lies just to come out on top Little pop princess You ain't no pop princess You're a pop culture terrorist.

[milostpoetry]

You and I shared something the jagged edges of our broken souls our bruised and battered bodies the fight left in our hearts

And every moment I feel myself doubting my fight... my arms reach out and I call for you  you’re strong, steadfast your voice is soothing and you always have the right words

You and I share something  our jagged edges fit together our bruised and battered bodies hold one another the fight in our hearts burns brighter for the other

You’re my broken soul’s mate my broken soulmate

[milostpoetry]

You bring the life back. You bring the light back. I spent my days like a zombie.  I stumbled through in the dark.  You brought my colors back,  And now it is no longer gray in my head.

[rippedpagestalk]

You were filled with lust and forgot he wasn’t giving you what you needed. You put your heart to the side, and gave him what he needed. He only wishes for you, to open your legs, yet you only want him to open his heart.

-rippedpagestalk (via rippedpagestalk)

[milostpoetry]

You didn’t love me: you loved who you were when you were with me. 

[milostpoetry]

Trust isn’t that.

I thought that trust meant that I could ride on the back of your motorcycle and never feel fear. I thought it meant I could tell you everything and never worry about you judging me for my thoughts and feelings. I thought it was the way I let you touch me after someone else had forced their touch upon me, after someone else’s lips were on mine without my consent, after someone’s hands caressed my thighs when I just kept repeating “no”. I thought trust was how I felt when you looked me in the eyes and said you loved me and I believed you. I thought trust was waiting for you to come back every time you slept with someone else after you told me I was the only one. But that isn’t trust. That’s letting someone who’s more broken than I am break me into glittering dust, just because they can. That’s being taken advantage of by someone who has nothing to give you back.

[milostpoetry]

Next time

Maybe in the next life we’ll get it right. And if not that one, the one after that. In this life we met at the wrong time, we made the wrong choices, we tortured each other for the love that we have. But in the next life maybe it will bloom and blossom and make us happier than ever instead of as miserable as we’ve been. Maybe we’ll end up together and live our whole lives with each other by our sides. This next life will be ours, but until then I’ll just live this life always missing you and wondering what we could have had.

[milostpoetry]

Enough

He was broken, and I loved him, but he never believed he was enough. I poured my soul into him, hoping to fill him, heal his broken pieces, but still he did not feel enough. I told him all he meant to me, how wonderful he is, and still he didn't think he was enough. So I confessed my love, tried to show him I couldn't ask for anything more, he was absolutely all I wanted in the world, I would do anything for him, and still he didn't feel he was enough. 

And yet every time I pause and reminisce on all I did for him, I find that maybe I was the one who wasn't enough. I could never do enough to make him love himself the way I loved him. I could never give him enough to make him want to stay. But I gave him everything I had; bled myself dry in the pursuit of healing him. It wasn't enough.