Tag Archives: my poems

Juliet.

IMG_9866 (1)

Five years ago, your lips met mine for the very first time.

Between stolen glances, our hands brushing lightly and those eyes, my god, those eyes… you pulled me closer to you and it felt as if one million bolts rushed through every fiber of my being.

You tasted like those raspberries, and everything I’d ever wanted.

I swore by the moon that we made a spark when I finally pulled away.

But maybe Juliet was right when she said, “Swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, that changes in her circled orb.”

Because one day, it did change.

And you bolted faster than you were once eager to kiss me.

Although I still thank my lucky stars for the time we shared.

But the next time I fall in love, you won’t hear me swear by the moon.

The Ghost: Volume One.

ghost

I write a lot about ghosts, but not the paranormal kind.

So that’s why I’ve decided to create a “Ghosts” volume, since you’ll be reading a lot about them. This particular poem is one that I wrote some time ago but is one of my favorites.

Before I showcase some of my deepest thoughts with the world, I feel that it’s important to note that I don’t really follow a formal format when I write my poetry, and it doesn’t always rhyme. I just let my feelings spill and my hands do the writing. Good ol’ Merriam Webster says poetry is the “writing that formulates a concentrated imaginative awareness of experience in language chosen and arranged to create a specific emotional response through meaning, sound, and rhythm.” So what I’m doing here is really focusing on the whole meaning part of it all and focusing less on how it’s “supposed” to look.

But, I digress– so here goes nothing. I thought this was the perfect piece to kick-start my poetry feature. I hope you like it, too.

———————————————————————————————–

I’m still repairing myself since that day years ago when you left and didn’t think twice.

I’ve got shaky hands that hold my metaphorical needle and thread, stitching up the pieces of me that you ripped apart.

Sometimes I think I’ll be all sewn up, only to be played a fool.

“You thought you were in the clear, didn’t you?”

I wasn’t aware the ghost of a boy could be so powerful.

I mean after all, you’re just a ghost. A spirit who walks around in his same clothes and drives the same car and bears the same name.

But you’re still just a ghost.

I’ve gotta keep remembering that.

You’re just a ghost.