Confessions of someone in love. a triptych.

this is my gift to you. use it wisely.

in every relationship that ends, there are three parts. should you find yourself in one of these stages now and are searching for something to say to your lover but cannot think clearly, borrow this.

copy the corresponding poem that fits your situation and how you are feeling.
then, send it to the person who has become the unwitting target of your emotion.

and good luck.

i envy you.

don't f**k this up.


PART ONE.

every single time i see you,
it's like i have been tased by the police
for saving someone
from
an oppressive and
violent force.

you turn the corner,
your voice heard like water dripping, moments before you crest the scene,
and i am frozen
completely in place.

you smile
and your perfect, almond-carved lips
shoot 50,000 volts of electricity
straight through me.

when your hand-made,
halogen-bright eyes
catch mine,
their deep blue strikes me
as hard and fast
as a pair of veteran, city police officers
tackling me to the ground
like
they were shot
out of cannons.

when you speak, even your words
don't want to let go of you.
each syllable clings to
the freckled corners of your mouth
before falling.

and when you say my name,
they hang
and seem
to fall
forever.





PART TWO



home is where the heart is.
until your heart is torn out from you,
and then, in a surprising turn of events,
home is where you want to hang yourself.

you call my name
and teeth fall out.

you go to caress me
and my hair comes out in amber clumps
of what used to love you;
of what used to love myself.

you kept me in your shadow
every time the lights came on.
i couldn't stand
when you were on top of me.

but i want to get up.
i need to stand up
even
if it's just for myself.

i can't wait until you get home tonight.
we're going to have one hell of a time.


PRT THREE:

i'm sorry.

and i know

sometime's an "i'm sorry"
is not enough.

you could spend all day spitting out apologies
in a voice that sounded like
whiskey being gargled through
a vaudeville microphone
with a dozen roses in one hand
and your wounded pride in the other

and

all you will get
is some wasted time
and some dead flowers.

you can't buy forgiveness with regret,
no matter how much you have to spend.

i just hope that someday,
maybe when you turn up your collar
to block out the cold wind
you'll smile, you'll remember me
and maybe
evn forgive me
for all i've done wrong to so beautiful
a person.

until then,
i guess,
i can pretend.

Reviews

[Michael Kevin Spencer]

This is great stuff! Though I'd like to see the parts in separate entries if possible? I really was struck by these lines:

when you speak, even your words
don't want to let go of you.
each syllable clings to
the freckled corners of your mouth
before falling.

[Francis Danger]

thank you for the kind words, AND ideas, ha ha. much appreciated.

[Michael Kevin Spencer]

Hey sure anytime, please add a poem to my contest link on my profile 1.2.

[Francis Danger]

will look into it now. thank you!

[Margaret Malloy]

I love the line "whiskey being gargled through a vaudville microphone." very sensual imagery and metaphors throughout. you create great word pictures. Very hard hitting.

[Francis Danger]

i should mention that i have been trying hard to stay away from actual pentameter for some recent things, especially those which involve a book i'm working on about love. love is messy. love is beautiful. and i never found it to have any real boundaries. so, with the poetry parts, i wanted to verse to be more about feeling than established structure. love, i've always thought, didn't have structure. it just showed up with it's bags packed one day on your door step, and you had to deal with it.