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When Will You See
Reeking of smoke and disappointment.
Someone let you down.
You use the window; and slip out the back door.
Sometimes I look at you; and all I get is your hollowed eyes.
And I have to pick you up off the floor and will you back to me.
Your so far gone..
And your running the opposite direction.
Sometimes I find you; you with sailor's legs.
Vodka, Whiskey, and Chardonnay.
It's all the same.
Under the table dealer.
I can smell it on your breath,
As you twist the sheets to your legs.
Your so lost.
I feel you shaking.
I'll hold you forever.
Cold sweats and nightmares.
Bags under your eyes.
You never were one to fake a disguise.
Now I have to rescue you,
I'll get your dress.
All the while glaring your boyfriend down as I drag you to the couch.
I don't understand what you see in him...
You know what he wants,
And you're just willing to give it to anyone.
You want love.
And I understand..
"No. No. Look at me. Don't you let go of my hand."
You see his face; the one that got away.
He is not in the back of your mind, he is the first thing you think of when you wake up.
He is the one all your day dreams are about.
I know he is the reason why you wake up screaming and letting out shouts.
I love to see you wake up; sometimes I can tell you've been dreaming.
I can see the lights in your eyes.
I can see the old you.
But that's just the lightening before the heavy thunder.
It is a thunder of sobs.
And I brush your hair out of your eyes.
And I tell you that there is no such thing as final goodbyes.
You walked right into my life,
You are completely faded.
I let you slide under the covers.
No questions asked.
I know you're trying to forget.
He is everywhere.
Tonight, it was laced.
And you had a freak out.
I'm hoping you will make it to the morning light.
I can hear you.
I can hear your hollowed excuses.
Ribbons on wrists are in.
Sure.
But you need to take them off sometime.
Come back.
Come back to me..
Maybe this is a case of mistaken identity.
Maybe the real you is just a second away; and I don't want to miss it.
I don't want to miss the girl I once knew.
I miss the girl with the paw print tattoo.
I can see you are trying; and you've lost your fake smile.
I don't want you to fake it.
Because that is what it is.
Fake.
I'd rather have you how you are now.
I'll take you in my arms; all the broken pieces.
I'll kiss your forehead;
Wipe your tears.
I'll deal.
And when you ask me if this is all just a nightmare I'll look into those glazed eyes and say,
"I hope so. But for now this is real."
I know you'll see things.
Right now you feel like you don't belong.
And I'll just lay by your side and listen to one more sad love song.
You want someone to be there for you,
Not just the creations of your imagination.
Because people may see the truth slipping out.
And they may be by your side; if only for a moment.
But just like a mirage; in a moment they are gone.
Like they trust you to talk to them if something goes wrong.
But why would you?
They don't mean what they say.
They just don't want to feel guilty when they find out you no longer wanted to stay.
So let them read these stupid rhymes,
And maybe one day they will see; maybe they will realize,
This story is all about me.
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This article has 3 comments.
Thanks for the criticism I really appreciate it. And the only reason the poem is in one long super stanza is because when I first wrote it, it was on a blog, and well formatted into specific stanzas. When I posted it on this site, the upload changed the formatting and I was not aware. Thanks again.
- JustListen
I like the end, because it's so true! Whenever we are writing about things that affect us, we aren't writing for that, we are writing for ourselves. I was prepared to give the whole "this piece lacks maturity--it is the typical teeanager that wants to let his emotions out through poetry but has no training" speech.
While you may be that type, you could have written in this style specifically to make fun of it (and us TeenInkers for whom it applies). So I will give you the benefit of the doubt and call you a genious. However, there are many things that get in the way of this, such as the misspelled "your" that happened a few times.
All in all, this is written like the typical poem that I hate critiquing: one super stanza, no rhyme or meter, all lines a short independant clause that does not necessarily have anything to do with the nearby lines (although I get the randomly spaced halfway through the sentence ones a lot too). At least you did punctuation.
But other people are not as open-minded as I am. Before people consider that you might have written this way on purpose, you'll have to prove to them that you can write "real" poetry. A book that will definately help with that I Stephen Fry's The Ode Less Travelled.
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