#pardy poet

[rainingyesterdays]

How you love me

When I ask you how you love me

I mean is it like the way the birds sing in the morning so happily,

So carefree that everyone must hear their song

Loud

With notes sharp enough to cut through the cobwebs of a distrustful heart?

Or is it the wind amongst the leaves? Tender, gentle. A whispering voice to soothe and calm

Do you love me like the sea? With depths beyond the both of us

Sometimes dark, but always reaching a shore somewhere...somehow

A sea that would do anything for me; even to recoil its hand causing a tsunami in my name?

Do you love me like the roots of a tree?

In safety and caring security, always at peace?

Our hearts in time as we fall asleep

Can you tell me which one is how you love me?

- jm

[rainingyesterdays]

The eyes don't lie

My eyes are dark, shiny black holes of wonderment, drinking in your words to see if there are hidden secrets in what you say and what you mean for me to understand

My eyes are firecrackers right after you kiss me and I anticipate another one

I've been told they shoot sparks, and can catch someone on fire unintentionally. I've also been told that this is when I act the most like me

But I think my eyes are sorrowful, black grieving rivers running fast. Streams of what has happened, mourning the future and what has yet to pass

Eyes you look away from, because you don't want to feel what it emanates for too long, yet without a word these same eyes could convey to you a love song.

- jm

[heartofmuse]

Pie

Freshly baked smells fill the air, deliciously wafting to my nostrils, I inhale

My mouth wants a taste, a bite or maybe the whole thing

Crisp crust underneath my teeth crumbles

Giving way to warm filling on my tongue

The spice and sugar melt away as

The warmth permeates my heart and bones

Such a comfort it is, a slice of my favorite pie with piping hot coffee on the side

It tastes of hearth and home, of gentle hands, care and love

All I know is every time I take a bite I feel much better than I did before

Such a sweet simple treat it is but to me pie is one of the best pleasures of life.

e.v.e. 

[heartofmuse]

One life

So brief

We forget

Time rules our existance

Ephimeral as dew

Morning mist soon gone

Best moments seem so fleeting

While suffering seems never-ending to our soul

How we embrace time determines our lot in life

So remember

Carpe diem for time flies!

e.v.e.(When time flies)

[sincerelypoetry]

Anchor

the expectations of such a rare mystery

if there is any thrill out from under 

that once shy breath;

who could love a soul wondering 

icy streets alone?

paranoid inner thoughts 

haunting miles away that perhaps

I turned the wrong way at age seventeen

when I stood in the mirror with a reflection more broken

than an image plastered on the magazines of 

how a woman must present herself, for the sake of platform

they do not let her own a body too thin, 

the constant nightmares of strangers,

or a boy who never had permission to touch me

but he did, and I gave up my worth 

reminded its more than what I drown myself over

the world sees me in daylight 

melodic conversations, a young adult 

will you ever learn to overcome these flames of 

pressure building up? 

I grew in this town of nobody just to be the girl 

who took the biggest down fall

they’ll notice my scent the minute I open that car door,

my mothers concerned, 

she read somewhere that I’ve been walked all over

on some assholes living room floor

and it’s all true, the things they’ll say about me

what do you demand of someone who wanted to be just like everyone?

I had to go down it too, a rabbit hole revealing 

my childhoods fantasy, wonderland 

declared me queen of the bad habits 

busted my lip cause I like the taste of my own blood

then I lit a joint for myself 

but I fucking worry about these voices whispering inside my head

cut my hair mid December for a boy who never said one thing about it, I just knew it was over

we never lived a moment together sober, 

I never experienced heartbreak till that moment he let me walk right down the street never to hear back from,

that pain was suicide on its own, he handed me the gun

And between that broken smile 

fading within the night under neon lights 

influence from fairy dust sprinkled on our tongues 

lying for our sanity to no names, I have become one

and these parties are no longer fun

I know, I know.

I fucking know;

What a miracle it’ll be if I make it to twenty one

but please,

no expectations for the unwritten

the worst is yet to come, 

I could’ve been so much by now, lost in the sea

of misfit tragedy, 

floating through waves upon waves 

wading to become one again,

moving through the hurt, my own shame

I tore myself down off those walls

terrified of my naked body for becoming a scene

and I am the one to blame for it all,

who’s gonna be there to pick up the phone if it’s three am,

what number is left to call?

stripped and all that is left is the past 

from the beginning,

when expectations never intervened 

I could be anything 

and now I’m fighting for that dream 

when I was just blissful in youth at age five

wait and see the day I hold myself

is a moment to be sung, 

doubt couldn’t wither my pain 

I promised to survive, 

my mothers blood is the hope in my veins

[sincerelypoetry]

The Icon

Pulling that trigger 

Was a gunshot on my tongue 

These years of blood rushing 

Out my veins finds its way 

Down the sink, releasing my pain 

Into a drain, empty but filled 

Finally I could breathe 

I can look them in the eyes,

And now this scar could heal 

Overtime though I still walk into the room 

Anxious to see if I'd be denied 

Used to walk and wander into back allies 

Just to murder more of my reality 

But I was never blind, I recognized 

There was still beauty within my tragedy 

[theinscrutableescapee]

The champagne lingering in the driveway of his eyelids ransacks the minibar of his depressive tendencies. A suffering insufferable dandy with a corduroy smile spills the cough syrup on the window sill and walks through a non-smoking floor with an unlit cigarette giggling in between his teeth. The stained carpet mutters that he’s a homeless homesick and the tears sticking to the glass table know it already. So he sits back on a fatigued settee and pours himself a dubious drink with a parking lot view. So he sits back uncomfortably with his heart a little tight and he tells himself that it’s just another sick day.

sick days | © Margaux Emmanuel

[writesoftlytay]

I wish I could just write [to] you

The cold refraction of feelings I won’t process,  presses against the glass in my eye,  against the glass of the window,  against the sun, or moon, or stars, or artificial light  that I’ve been seeking. 

I just want to write [to] you.