Extra Honesty in Poetry

A few weeks back, I showed you a piece of poetry that I’d recently written in the post 6 Weeks Ago…

I’ve been writing a lot of poetry recently around the same sort of subject. It’s not something I do consciously, but it always helps when I have a problem or a trouble that I can’t work through and I need to get out. Unfortunately, I can never seem to get out what I want to say verbally. It only seems to show itself in rhymes and such.

So here it is.

Here are my feelings pulled into words on a page, encased in rhythm and rhyme, twisted into something less complex and confused than half sentences and unfinished words. This is my vulnerability behind the veil. This is my unspoken sensitivity.

This is my honesty.

Complicated.
Uncomplicated.
This is how I think.
Emotions always floundering,
Sometimes they try to sink.
Analytical,
Not political.
Judgements far and few.
Honestly opinionated,
Keeping it all true.
Poetry in motion
Not just a pretty rhyme.
A complicated notion
Spun around in time.
Not always with a structure.
Sometimes it’s just a mess.
This literary puncture
Spilling from my head.

Breathing In

Your hands. My hands.
Pressed together.
Like a kiss between fingertips.
& I miss your sculpted hips.
& the tender taste of your lips.
Fingers following your skin
Holding everything in.
Saying too little.
Thinking too much.
& the ache that follows
Building our gallows
To the little death of ecstasy
Making one of two of you and me.
Tracing the pattern of my heart
Through every loving beat.
Eyes open – filled with dark wonder
A rip tide of love pulling you under,
Unspoken.
Caught in gentle expression
This glowing confession.
It lived un-worded in my eyes,
Vulnerable to reciprocal lies.
Sleep thickened lips murmur your name
To the cold space beside me
All shrouded in shame.
I ask what it holds for us.
What happens now? And then?
Confusing circles. Lost again.
Thoughts litter my blank paged brain
Filling it up like too heavy rain,
Until I remember
The tender taste of your lips,
The exquisite contours of your hips.
Your hands. My hands.
Pressed together.
Like a kiss between our fingertips.

Complete incompletion.
Wholly undefined.
Losing all reference.
Can’t see what’s left behind.
Betting on wishes.
Balloons up in the mind.
Not knowing if I’m conscious
Or the understanding kind.

I find myself unable to eat again.
Hunger claws my inside with nausea & disdain.
Something broken. Something much less beautiful.
It is too quiet in my heart. Still and dead.
Wishing for words that remain unspoken & things to be unsaid.

She threw up in her mouth,
but she didn’t know why.
She couldn’t tell the truth,
didn’t know how to lie.

Nothingness. Empty & cruel.
The opposite of how I felt when thinking of you.
Sickness curls through my gut,
An abscess of intolerable feeling.
Everything hurts.
And nothing hurts.
It’s a vacuum of static pain.
I am wondering why I picked up the pencil.
I have nothing more to add.
I’m not afraid of being alone.
Loneliness is safer.
I am afraid of falling with no one to catch me.
I am afraid of not hearing your voice.
Or smelling your smell.
I am afraid of not seeing your eyes
Though yours never saw mine.
I am afraid of losing you.
I am afraid of how I feel.
And worse still…
I am afraid of how you feel,
But I cannot doubt your honesty.
I don’t know why I’m writing.
There’s so much more to say
And yet nothing.
I hate this nothing.
But not in the way I hate you.
I hope you understood that.
I hope you know what I really meant,
What I spoke in unspoken conversations
Where you and I were much braver than we ever were.
It begged me to kiss you when you were leaving,
But pride held me back.
The harder the fall.

Hold out your heart like it makes a difference.
Cry your goodbye like it makes a difference.
Nothing matters anyway.
Just filling up a bleaker day.
Touch the hole in your chest
And examine all the mess
Like you knew it would happen all along.

You don’t understand how much I hate you,
How much you grate,
How you leave me in a state.
You don’t understand how much I want you,
I can’t stand you,
Want to haunt you.
I wish that you were whole
Not a net without a goal,
An empty silhouette
Full of darkness & regret.
Do what you will & what you want.
Don’t let this hunger leave you gaunt.
Make a stand. Make a plan.
Why aren’t you acting like a man?!
Do something but do it quick
Before you lose the chance to stick.
Don’t turn the knife
Just get it right
If only one thing in your life.
Turn the key in the car
& you’ve already travelled far.
Understand that I ask –
I’m not taking you to task,
But you need to feel complete
And I can’t perform this feat.
Please understand why I am;
Why I’ll always give a damn.
Give me your word
On what I’ve heard
And follow through with your plan.

So yeah…

This is everything that has been going through my mind of late. All of these thoughts and feelings and things I think of when I can’t sleep. I bleed them out on blank paper in graphite blood. They’ve been scattered around my bedroom floor like doves waiting release through the window.

These are my hopes, my fears, my internal agonies. And I hope they are as beautiful and tragic to you as they are to me.

Thanks for listening…

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5 thoughts on “Extra Honesty in Poetry”

  1. Sweetness,

    You are right, poetry is always more honest than anything we will ever say. It is your heart in words. And these words are beautiful.

    A xxx

  2. Phew… Some powerful and dark stuff. Why aren't we married again? Er…

    These are some rather cutting pieces, they are raw and full of the anger at the heavens, fate, people… just amazing!

    Thank you for sharing this with us, so glad you did!

  3. You're right about it being beautiful. Maybe in high-school I just wasn't mature enough for poetry or maybe I've just finally found the right poets, but this is amazing stuff.
    In particular I found resonance with the image of hands in "Breathing In" and the way the end echoed the beginning.
    Then the short one about not being able to tell the truth and not knowing how to lie is powerful beyond my ability to describe. I found that one truly profound–and I'm pretty sure if I haven't been there I've seen people while they were there.

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