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Archive for September, 2012

My Heart Is Still

You were gone for so long,
then came back into my life.
Now after only several weeks,
again I’m forced to say goodbye.

I don’t want you to go.
I might not survive this time.
Maybe I’m being dramatic,
but is caring such a crime?

I love you. I missed you.
It hurts to see you walking away.
You’ve deeply affected me.
Since we met I haven’t been the same.

You tell me you love me, too,
but then you decide you’re leaving.
It’s your actions, not your words,
that keep me from believing.

I’ll wait for you.
You know I will.
There’s no one else.
My heart is still.

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Happy

When people let you down
and your resolve is lacking,
draw strength from His love
and choose to be happy.

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Cynicism

It’s not an easy decision.
Which one should I choose?
The choice isn’t obvious.
Either way, we’re bound to lose.

They’re two halves of an evil whole.
It doesn’t matter who prevails.
Neither genuinely cares.
Money never seems to fail.

I’m falling out of love with this game.
I used to have a passion for it,
but the participants are all the same.

Am I supposed to believe anything they say?
Have they given me a reason to trust their words?
This is only a contest in which the winner gets
the chance to do his part in destroying the world.

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Follower

I’m the mediocre poem that has to follow the
breathtaking performance of the last one,
the cluster of stanzas crouched nervously
behind the curtain waiting for the signal to
pop onto the stage and deliver lines in such
a way so as not to outshine the star of the show.

Needless to say, I’m not going to impress with
engaging metaphors or dip my brush into the
most vibrant colors to paint a gorgeous picture
that will cause your imagination to run wild.

Where she was beautiful, I am only average.
While she made you cry with touching observations,
I will at best leave you slightly amused.

I won’t ever be the one fondly talked about
on the late-night drive home from the theatre.
No, my job is to simply give you something to
think about, a small object to focus on to take
your mind off your own life if only for a moment,
and now that I’ve carried out my task, I will
reclaim my spot in line behind the next big shot
with his elaborate words and perfect smile.

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Salem, Oregon

The shooting star that was our
relationship has faded into oblivion.
The coffee on the kitchen table sits
cold where you left it yesterday morning.
As I pour the remainder of the mug’s contents
down the drain, it feels as if you’re right
next to me, whispering a joke in my ear
like you were doing only three days ago.

When you said goodbye to me last night before
you boarded the flight that was to take you to Salem,
I wasn’t thinking I should kiss you once more
or hold you just a little while longer than I did.
The only things that crossed my mind were how
beautiful you were and that I would see you
the following Sunday when I came to
pick you up from the airport.

I didn’t assume that the plane you were
flying in wouldn’t make it to its destination,
that it would falter like an exhausted bird
and then crash down into a family of trees
unprepared to cushion that horrible fall.

You were plucked away from those who loved you,
who still love you, and regardless of how many hours
pass between this moment and my final breath,
the warm memories of being in your presence,
of laughing with you, will never be forgotten
like this poem I’m now writing inevitably will.

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Broken Record

My heart is a broken record.
It keeps playing the same sad song.
I wish I could change its tune,
but I’ve been lonely for too long.

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The Cat

I’m almost dying in my living room waiting
for the hour to arrive while the cat is
asleep on his perch next to the window
where he looks so composed and noble.

My stomach is doing somersaults,
though the rest of my body is still.
I think it’s trying to warn me that
I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.

She is much too excellent for me,
and as the clock continues ticking,
taking with it what little confidence
I have left, I’m afraid I’m going to
throw up when I get to her door.

That would be a good first impression
to make on her parents, wouldn’t it?
Hi, it’s a pleasure to meet both of you.
Let me just vomit in your lovely garden,
or in your newly remodeled living room.

If I have to go through that humiliation,
I’d prefer staying at home with the cat.
At least we have throwing up in living rooms in common.

Yes, I could get my own perch and maybe then I’d
feel worthy of one moment of that girl’s time.
Maybe then I wouldn’t ramble on like a nervous wreck.

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