Fade

Fade fast child

I don't love you

I don't love you, no

I don't love you.

 

You try to stun my senses

with your polaroids

and it almost worked

I flitted towards the light

like a histrionic moth

circling and diving into

surges of energy that turn out

to be the breeze

shocked when nothing's

in the center of the light.

Now I'm running from your arms

scrambling for a homely place

you can't invade,

coughing up your false comfort,

contrivance

survival f*****g play.

 

Fade fast woman

I don't love you

I don't love, you, no

I don't love you.

 

You're dirt

and I'm a worm for liking it,

for burrowing,

laying my eggs before I tested the roof,

licking the ground before

I even sat down.

You didn't step on me though,

you did nothing,

you were you,

f*****g twisted and beautiful and confused,

a cactus with purple on a hill in death valley

that I tried to run to but passed out before I

could.

 

I'm awake and can barely find my car,

there it is, so, was it purple,

was it lush, or was it false

because I was rushed and hot already?

Why'd I drive there,

what's the draw?

It's a fission testing plant

they built it just for me.

 

You didn't take me apart,

you just didn't put me back

together like I asked.

You didn't break the promise,

you never made one.

You didn't trick me,

you never saved me,

that's it, and

I'm sorry I expected so much

on a trek I know so well.

 

I caught a whiff,

I saw a light,

I remembered who I was, again

something caught my eye over the sand

crystallized into a flower

animated into an absolute direction.

So I followed.

But it wasn't you,

or if it was,

it wasn't home.

 

Fade fast child,

I don't love you

I don't love you.

I don't love you.

Fade.

Reviews

[K.]

Geez, dude. Your writing is addictive. Your word choice is remarkable and works so well within these finely structured poems. I keep rereading it, and somehow it keeps getting better. There are so (so, so, so) many lines I want to quote as my favorite, but I'll just have to name a few. "You're dirt, and I'm a worm for liking it", "you did nothing, you were you, f*****g twisted and beautiful and confused", and just mad props for using 'histrionic'. What a great word. I can't even express my feelings, I have so much more in my mind that I can't write down!

You were saying I have so much talent and I could write about that manly man better than you; I think you should re-read some of your writing. You're fantastic.

[Thaddius]

oh no, I'm writing this before I even look at your review, going 'wtf. why did she pick my worst poem out of all of them!!!!!!!!!!!!!!'

Read 'the catch', if you can. (catch me if you can is a movie. Didn't plan that. I'm weird). I'd suggest going back, if you get the time. But, okay. I'm going to take a deep breath and read your review.

[Thaddius]

thank you!

[K.]

Well, damn, if that's your worst poem, then I can't wait to read the rest (and maybe you should stop reading my work)!

[Thaddius]

You can do anything. You aren't pretentious. I think those two go hand in hand.

[Willard Wells]

Sometimes we come to the point of not loving after we find we gave more of ourselves than was being given back. One side love and then you keep telling your self "I don't love you". Now of course I am reflecting my views do to my past and may in no way connect to your words. You did provoke my mind and that's what it's all about. Nice job, keep it up.