#apoemadaychallenge

[manivillie]

False Kings

I kept going, heedless of wheremy path was taking me.Filled with the certainty I would win.There was no other reality! All the sacrifices,times I spent away from loved ones,needed to mean something – anything. Blind ambition did not offer me comfort.On nights I spent locked in fear,with too much (yet nothing at all)Left to lose. Driven by a desire to conquer all,to stand atop larger…

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[gregory-eyev-blog]

poem #347 (December 14, 2017)

“Did I find you or you find me?”

I wasn’t looking for you.

Frankly, I didn’t know what I was looking for at all.

But you came to me like a sweet dream in the night time.

You felt like home.

I was in the dark for so long that I didn’t think I’d recognize the light.

But darkness is just the absence of light.

Coldness is just the absence of heat.

You came to me like a fully formed idea.

A lightening bolt on an open field.

How slim were the chances of you hitting me?

How slim were the chances of you finding me,

when I wasn’t looking for you. 

[gregory-eyev-blog]

poem #359 (December 26, 2017)

You’ve made your mark on me so clearly. 

Like strawberries on my fingertips.

Like the ink on my skin.

Like the scar on my thumb and the scar on my chin. 

[gregory-eyev-blog]

poem #351 (December 18, 2017)

It is all attainable.

I can make it happen.

I can make it fall apart. 

[gregory-eyev-blog]

poem #350 (December 17, 2017)

You are not just a memory.

You are almost seared into my brain.

Forgetting you is impossible.

But repeating is the same. 

[gregory-eyev-blog]

poem #349 (December 16, 2017)

I’ve never been on a trip by myself before. 

I’m leaving my comfort zone behind and taking a train to Montreal.

Embracing my fears and uncertainties.

Saying yes to new opportunities.

Following my intuition and all other clichés.

Here’s to new beginnings. 

[gregory-eyev-blog]

poem #341 (December 8, 2017)

Cop cars outside the building are never bearers of good news.

I was only trying to tidy up my room and do laundry on this particular morning.

I walked by the supposed crime scene and saw cops with notepads and pens.

I smelled something kind of foul.

The cleaning lady was in the laundry room and I asked her if she had any 

information.

She told me that the guy who lived in the unit surrounded by cops had passed 

away.

I’ve seen him on multiple occasions.

Always wore the same long black leather jacket and was in and out of cabs.

He was nice enough to me.

Always smiled, said hello and told me how beautiful my dog was.

I always noticed the music coming out of his apartment.

It sounded so haunting and enchanting at the same time. 

I never gathered the nerve to ask him about it.

Now I wish I had. 

[gregory-eyev-blog]

poem #336 (December 3, 2017)

Stroke my hair at midnight.

Help me fall asleep.

It’s the little things that matter most. 

You let me be me. 

An asshole with a kind heart. 

The world feels bigger with you, more wide open.

My dreams feel slightly more possible.

The darkness has dissipated for a while.

I can see the silver lines.

I can hear myself getting cheesier by the day.