Altering Division

Altering Division

K.S.

(A spoken word poem)

 

 

If my words mean nothing to you when they pour from my mouth, then I will no longer speak to you. 

It’s okay for you to have feelings, to have your own pre-concieved notions, so you don’t feel trapped.

We live in separate spaces now.

Even though I loved you epically.

Clinging to paper, well my dear all were once words coming from lips before they were transcribed on paper.  So it’s my words you don’t want to hear. 

 

Your sorrow is based on tall pine and oak as I flirt with death and thoughts of you.

As a person I am only human.

My mouth is consumed and flooded now that we don’t talk, along with all the kisses and I love you’s that the autumn leafs took.

You were supposed to come and find me up in forrest I was lost. 

We were supposed to work together.  You said forever.

Even God I am afraid doesn’t know why you require,

documentation.

 

I write you know?

Did you ever think of looking at these wooden stacks of my feelings?

They are not time stamped or notarized,

no one will be able to verify my stories.

 

Your body has become brittle like the ice you’ve become one with your sacred maple that snapped in the blizzard that winter.

So I took what I had verified on bark, burnt it searing red to save you from these now freezing temperatures.

Enough is never enough anymore so I find ways of staying although, I’ve gone up in your flames when trying.

If you could see past the ebony of fall, there is lighter green,

in spring,  and I hear it’s warmer there.

 

I’d jump back in the fire I started only if I knew that you would burn too.

Heaven doesn’t want you either and I need to hear you scream,

from all the ash that would consume every rosewood vein.

 

I was taught to love you even when things got tough,

you were taught to give up when enough wasn’t enough.

Still I can’t help but need you to take all the splinters out of every wound to; pick up the fallen branches that have splayed me over your lap, and to tell the florist at my funeral to simply back off.

 

All I ask of you is to keep the woodpile stocked; a fire lit somewhere close because darling I still worry,

that you will catch another cold and hopefully next time when you long for crumpled documents it will be spring.

Your lungs can’t bear the smoke the next time,

a girl who loved you tried to save you again.

.

.

Reviews

[Traci]

Wow! Such bittersweet honesty and conviction, took me 3x before I could finish w/o tears falling, as this is a story I can relate to right now.

Love the imagery and the way you related your emotions to nature.

I write you know?
Did you ever think of looking at these wooden stacks of my feelings?
They are not time stamped or notarized,
no one will be able to verify my stories.

Very powerful words.

was taught to love you even when things got tough,
you were taught to give up when enough wasn’t enough.
Still I can’t help but need you to take all the splinters out of every wound to; pick up the fallen branches that have splayed me over your lap, and to tell the florist at my funeral to simply back off.

Even more powerful. Job well done.

[K.S.78]

It means so much to me that my words can have such an effect. Thank you sincerely!

[Sourav]

Quite nice... the emotion of this poem is very strong... wonderfully written.

[K.S.78]

Thanks!

[Rahul]

Nicely written as usual.

[K.S.78]

Awe thanks!

[Zero_Edge88]

Every word you say ache. Each line. They sore, bruise and swell. The punches landed but it kept hitting more and more to it! It was as if giving up again was in this state. Imagery really brings it even more vividly as it illustrated its way breaking apart those who saw the pain in them.

Emotions and feelings like a wood as they were fodders in this flame. A flame that has died out because it gave up. You are allowed to fail but you are not allowed to surrender to fate and be its (forgive my expletive) b***h. You are man instead you become a child with that look. Even a defeatist cannot comfort you but can only look at you with pity because love is too beautiful to be even defeated.

However the other person is not livid or even sad but they are completely melancholic. It's a twist of fate that changes everything when there are no words spoken or thoughts acted upon. For what is love without these but just a dust in the wind. Blown-away easily.

It's a melancholic poem that someone wants to be heard but the other party just wants to be completely off-putting through emotion, action and even feeling. :(

[K.S.78]

"However the other person is not livid or even sad but they are completely melancholic.""It's a melancholic poem that someone wants to be heard but the other party just wants to be completely off-putting through emotion, action and even feeling. :( " - you hit the nail on the head! wow psychic! lol

[Melissa Ridge]

I love this so much. Such a mesmerizing piece, that is quite relatable. I found myself getting lost with you. The imagery is beautiful and the way your words are laced with venom. I love it! (:

[K.S.78]

Thank you! :)