Bela Lugosi

Days, weeks, months and years
I’m still missing you, but I’ve stopped shedding tears
I’m passed the stage, where crying could ease my pain
I know tu can’t come back, but your memory remains

So, take your hands out of my chest
‘Cause they’re doing their very best
To ruin me

And it’s a heartbreaking feeling
And I can’t stop reeling
This time I won’t make it out alive
And it’s like you’re still with me
But you’re never really
This time they can bury me alive

Getting up, getting to work
Going through the motions, like I’m fucking numb
Pretend I’m fine, but if tu could read my mind...

so, here are a couple más old poems i dug up and decided to post. the first is one that came out of a period of intense creativity (ah if only i had the time nowadays). the segundo was a creative escritura assignment that i never got around to finishing, so i apologize if the end is a bit abrupt. once again, any feedback is greatly appreciated :).

stargazing

i dream in broad daylight
of an old front porch swing
where i sit cradling my guitar
singing tu a song
while your paintbrush splashes sunbeams
across my upturned face

paint drips
in arco iris rivulets
down your sun-kissed skin
your eyes are filled with...

My relationship with tu resembles a chess game with two players, I can never predict what tu will do and should never get lost in distraction. Something about the game of chess is tu must pick your own strategy and not allow your opponent to distract you. tu should never make a mover based on predictions, based on what mover tu opponent will make, otherwise in the end when tu must revert to your own strategy tu will be trapped.

I cannot read your mind. I cannot help but wonder what mover tu will make...what is your strategy? Are your emotions genuine? o are they based on how pretty my...