deepundergroundpoetry.com
Rice
In the garden I light my body up, inhale you sat on logs
where wood smoke chokes the lung of my confessions -
and you're here, and you know, don't you?
The weight comes on as hail stones on a mostly sunny day,
bruises all the edges that quickly fall away, turn to puddles -
and you're here, and you know, don't you?
What if you came to stay, what if you laid on the lawn with your cases,
what if we spoke and if we ran far from here?
What would my life be, how would I endure a version
of me that could do that so damn quickly to the others?
What would you say to warm me
when my self loathing froze me as she has so done many times before this?
How would we breathe, how would it seem?
Seems to me we'd waste ourselves, loving knowing loving
is never quite enough to survive your person,
truth is,
see, survival comes in loving only
yourself - or at least
the version that you share with someone else
and I never loved her,
not even once
when she was with you.
where wood smoke chokes the lung of my confessions -
and you're here, and you know, don't you?
The weight comes on as hail stones on a mostly sunny day,
bruises all the edges that quickly fall away, turn to puddles -
and you're here, and you know, don't you?
What if you came to stay, what if you laid on the lawn with your cases,
what if we spoke and if we ran far from here?
What would my life be, how would I endure a version
of me that could do that so damn quickly to the others?
What would you say to warm me
when my self loathing froze me as she has so done many times before this?
How would we breathe, how would it seem?
Seems to me we'd waste ourselves, loving knowing loving
is never quite enough to survive your person,
truth is,
see, survival comes in loving only
yourself - or at least
the version that you share with someone else
and I never loved her,
not even once
when she was with you.
Published 25th Sep 2019
Author's Note
Written while listening to the song below, one that lyrically always hits me perfectly. I love the complete self indulgence of his own emotion, the drowning in the pit of it. I am trying to write more with the feelings evoked by music. We shall see..
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=J7nHy_zAL50
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=J7nHy_zAL50
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This is a wonderful confessional style of verse, Poppy. That ending was like the silence after a performance that stole the audience's reaction. Paralyzed them, so to speak.
25th Sep 2019 6:22pm
Thank you A, trying to use music more to my advantage. I spend a lot of time listening to it why can't I be creative with it. I certainly wanted to cut the reader the way the song cuts me in a slow build.
