salemssecret

salem

,Ireland

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- feed the world

if i had to write a poemto break my silence, i couldnt, because writing something to explain something would mean that i understood it in the first place, and i didnt. i just shut myself down, bit my lip and stuck my thumbs in my belt loops. i walked proudly, quietly, pensively around, wondering if i would write again, speak again, have something to say again... i worried about the heavens and hells of my soul, contemplated why i had been muted, silenced, shunned and i understood that sometimes things dont need explaining. sometimes they just are what they are. and that is what it is. regardless of how empty i may feel and there isnt much left in me to say. i heard a song that filled my soul so extensively, i read a book that completed me so randomly, i met a boy who i knew so truly and i died, because i forgot a ghosts birthday. i turned 23 very oddly, i ate pretzels so religiously, i lost 15 pounds so easily and i did it without a scrap of paper in my hand or a notebook in my bag and im unsure if any of it has actually happened, because i have no record anymore... i havent missed you in a long time. (i lie.) but tonight it is fucking springtime and the air is warm and my red shoes and my yellow sweatshirt are almost enough to remind me of life. and love. and who i was. before. you. went and made these pretty unalterable decisions. there arent really words that seem fitting enough, though, to explain that i have -since you last breathed life into my soul and chest and heartbroken mess of a being- made some pretty life changing decisions of my own. and although i can say that i love you. (my god, i can repeat it a thousand times and mean it.) and i can still feel you in my joints and muscles and on my back and underneath my lungs. although you are inside of me to my core and to my tissue and throughout my veins. (you are in my dna. my genes. my lifeplan. my fucking hair follicles. and i swear i see it in the patterns that my freckles make) i need to testify that ive made some changes. committed to some ideas. and to some people. who need me more than you ever could. (i still love you. dont think i dont. (because i do.) ive just understood that sometimes we need to give ourselves over to people who can take us for who we are. and i dont think you can. or could. or ever will.) (or that i could ever take you. like you are. either.) and ive made some promises. left handed contracts. so i dont blame you for going on without me, because ive gone and done the same. but i just want you to know that im not without knowledge or understanding of what beauty we had imagined. or deserved. but were never really strong enough to fight for. (im not oblivious to it all. or any of it. ive never negated you. discounted you. or forgotten about the ceramic heart that i hope you keep forever. because we would have made some pretty amazing art.) I need something catchy. To fill the blank spaces in my life. I need a person who is kind of like the flu. (Contagious) (SP) Hey, Don't worry about me. Your beautiful. You'll do fine. And I'll, Well, I'll manage. I'm sure that I can read, write, drink, and smoke you out of my life. Yeah I'll just be here on these muddy banks. Skipping stones into this canal. Something about smoking cigarettes just seems right these days. Inhaling shit into lungs, already black from second hand smoke, staining my fingers (With fingers so yellow that it matched the yellow skies) Maybe if our fingers touch this time everything will be fine. Maybe if my head was a little clearer. My heart a little stronger. Maybe if I wasn't so timid. Maybe. Well maybe if the time was ever ripe. Or the words were ever right... Sometimes I don't really feel like I have meaning, meter and definitly not rhyme. (What is wrong with me?.What is what I need. What do I think I think?) I don't really have answers. About myself.

hallelujah i take the hope i find in flooded and scratched p ap er b as ke ts and walk step by step mile and metre out of my fears my fears of losing you or missing you one minute too long my fears that made love so hard for us and made life so narrow for you so come and hold my hand I am waiting for you whisper "hallelujah" and close my eyes with your fingers because I am willing to set you free without giving up on you but you must not believe i'd iron my white flag now love is not about loss and victory its about paperbaskets and hallelujahs

dead three days Who has to die? The poet. How often do you find the right person? Once. The poet has to die. The guy goes back to London For something not half as precious. The girl stays Is good wife and mommy. What is it I will remember about you? Always the years between us. Always the years. Always the love. Always the hours. And what happens If an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? It’s a trick question. And why do I always like Those Frustrating Melodramatic Tragic Endings best? Because they are real.