NO.

let her cry

left as a wilted flower in disguise, a lazy day in my sorry eye

beside to sea as i wipe my brow. thinking to myself, this is a begging town.

holding my breath i break the matter

 of the confined regrets, the breakers crash and thunder

 roars

bang booming fury; subtle desire. 

and salted wounds crack

i am slowly falling under

reciprocal loss i fail to love a game 

called 

sorrow.

a manic heart

 is borrowed 

a shelf of light; of better tomorrows

and; as the lovers love is blind

i forget to find, the glut a glory of bind.

stealing a glance

 i am a thief of time

and i am the moon.

of better days to define.

i am seeing for the first time now that my heart, crooked, adjusts to the setting like fire and from the inside and i am broken, so i retire.

now i see, now i feel the music beneath 

the surface of another a shapeless dead gutter.

happy to myself, ghosts of my heart

 in the walls of days alone...

this i knew from the start.

 wandering, tip toeing in the grass. the fog sets the mood and my hands are the glue.

shame and pain i see now, a piece of myself 

heroes all die

so matter unfolds and the time is old 

and i am soft glass.

on the surface of the earth dyed in the womb of my mothers breast i shy from danger

a real retreat.

a beautiful misery holds utter defeat. a disgrace a face a deadline to the runners feet.

Reviews

[Betty Hermelee]

Amazing writing, but sorrowfully, your heart has taken power over your mind, and it's sad that you suffer, pain lives with you, and you can't get away from it. You call yourself a hero, but heroes all die. You feel torment amongst wandering in the grass where the fog sets the mood. One must retreat from this fog this maniacal heart that is dragging you down to the depths. Great Write!
Best, B

[John the Baptist]

Nothing is so dangerous as a manic heart, especially to those who have one. The speaker here is obviously looking back at bad decisions made with the heart alone, wisdom be damned. The only value of this kind of situation lies in the lessons that might be learned from it.

[Coyote Poetry]

Dear Cheyenne. The poem is so good. You bled to paper dear poet.
"shame and pain i see now, a piece of myself
heroes all die
so matter unfolds and the time is old
and i am soft glass."
I loved the above lines. Being soft as glass, leave us waiting for sadness. Thank you for sharing the amazing words and your thoughts.
Coyote

[ADay]

This was amazing! I really love your writing style. It paints such a beautiful yet haunting picture.
"shame and pain i see now, a piece of myself
heroes all die
so matter unfolds and the time is old
and i am soft glass."
Just beautiful! wow

[KATHY SUE SILLS]

I thrilly enjoyed this story! I loved the writing style!

Wandering, tip toeing in the grass. The fog sets the mood, and my hands are the glue.

[cheyenne s garcia]

thank you so much! is there anything like love?

[KATHY SUE SILLS]

My pleasure!

[Vertigo Cat1111]

What a sucker punch to the feelings- wow, why does this not have more reviews? I didn’t go into this expecting a writing style I like so much, thoroughly impressed. I love the unfiltered writing here and how emotional and tough it is. I really think this deserves to get popular. ‘ happy to myself, ghosts of my heart
in the walls of days alone...
this i knew from the start.’ what a particularly beautiful line. It’s so vulnerable, and just amazing. Thank you so much for sharing.

[cheyenne s garcia]

thank you so much! hope for you to read more of my writing.