FIRST OF ALL, I WOULD LIKE TO ADDRESS THAT I DO NOT APPRECIATE PLAGIARISM AT ALL. THEREFORE, DO NOT STEAL MY POETRY. KTHNXBAI. BUT I DO APPRECIATE POETRY. whee
the halves of things.
Lost in confessions,
heavy is my heart,
though I stand tall and reach high,
my hands tend to reach
for anything but yours.
And I tenderly wonder why,
why I have half and not all,
why I want all and need half,
why I want higher when all
I really want is right here.
He gave us two hands
and set us up to find two more.
He gave us two eyes
and knew we'd look into another pair.
He gave us half of a heart
and watches us struggle to find the missing.
But if hearts could speak,
it'd be easier and harder
when not all hearts agree.
Maybe that's why we have half,
because all we really want
is to be whole...
because my nose hurts
sometimes, i think you're the fire
and i'm the pot in this.
and no matter how you take it,
something smells amazing.
i'm trying not to taste
or get myself on a trip,
but it's hard for me.
and it's hard for me to not write this
because it's a remote-complex,
the channel turns and i rip my heart out
and slam it down on paper.
you turn my paper red, did you know?
a lovely red, so red that I can't see my words,
so red that i can't make sense of them,
so red that all i end up seeing is
"i" and "love" and "you" in so many words.
okay, maybe i am head over heels,
but this poem is flying up and over my head,
so maybe i am on the floor
because i fell
flat on my face
for you.
i don't think i know
anything about poetry anymore,
all i know is raw feelings,
something i don't think i had before you,
but now, they're there.
maybe not accurately on paper,
but they're there
for me to see,
and they're there
for you to feel, too.
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Fountain of Truth, Hear My Sigh
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