Tag: love

First // Only // Nobody

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I am frozen in time, watching my feelings become inconsequential

They fall like snowflakes into piles and evaporate under my gaze

You were the great love of my life, you were my greatest tragedy

Sparks suffocated under assumptions in our lustful summer daze

I took you for wind, I took you for wings, I almost took you home

Your tongue was a blade I learned to walk without cutting my feet

You took my word for it, you took every inch of privacy I once owned

And I never thanked you for cheering when I finally had to retreat

Your apartment is still there but I do not pass the building anymore

Running into you could heal me but it could also tear me into two

Your favorite candy sits on my kitchen table and I smile to myself

Imagining how something so golden could turn into something so blue

-Jackie

Dear Caller

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Photo by Martin Lopez

Suffocate me with gentle palms as I curse out the muddy roads.

Tattoo the shape of your lips on my collarbone as I implode.

My tongue is a weapon, the sharpest blade in the seven lands,

But I cannot use it on you, so squeeze it until I hurt my hands.

-Jackie

Leave The Sharp Pieces On The Floor

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Photo by Tae Fuller from Pexels

We stared into each other’s eyes, knowing it would be the very last time.

All I could think about was the day you let me win in charades,

And how you stole all my patience and dimes.

We looked at each other, but the world around us kept spinning.

Perhaps it was for the best, we were mere moments away from falling apart –

Or falling in love, whatever it takes to keep winning.

We lived in each other’s minds, now we only live in those memories.

I lean on you whenever my stamina wants to break in half

Because you taught me to never panic and never please.

But that day we learned how it feels to break into the sharpest of pieces,

How it feels to become just a picture on the wall,

A story someone drunkenly tells your nieces.

I remember, I remember it vividly – how we never looked away.

Everyone talked, but we watched their judgement fall,

Hoping that the endless storm was just a rainy day.

Now I pass by your house and the shadows melt into my blueish skin.

All I can think about is the day I beat you in chess,

And how I robbed you of arguments and of battles you could win.

What a time, what a blasphemy to all the loves that we hold holy.

I stare at the horizon from my window, knowing you feel it,

Knowing you think that you really owned me.

But I was a child back then and you were already made of steel.

Leave the sharp pieces on the floor, just leave it.

I have matured way past the need to make frozen hearts feel.

-JW

When The Scars Turn Into Wounds Again

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Photo by Maria Orlova from Pexels

You can smell my blood when I bleed on another operating table.

I feel it – how your eyes change shade, how you call me ungrateful.

As I am allowing another man to cut out my ego like it is a tumor,

You break cathedral glass, killing every spirit who spreads the rumors.

When my blood drips down the drain after yet another procedure,

I know that the humming coming from my anesthetic mind feeds you.

You are locked away behind your stained glass and silver crosses,

But you will survive if you cannot count me as one of your losses.

And when the scars turn into wounds again, I will seek you out.

You will waste your voice on my towering insecurities…

Still, I will enjoy the sound.

-JW

April

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Whenever April comes around, I have this need to sleep by an open window.

The air is so heated and charged, I can’t brush it off. I need to feel the wind blow.

The fire in my bones is harsh to my body, I want the power to go out with a bang.

Whenever April comes around, another lover becomes a treat to my hungry fangs.

I’ve been dying of thirst for a cool spring breeze since I was bitterly seventeen.

No psychic wise enough, no fortune teller prosperous enough to crack my spleen –

But maybe a genie in the bottom of the bottle will tell another revolting story.

I wish I could stand up a little bit taller instead of being sorry.

We’re a dying breed, and we’re choking on antimony.

Whenever April comes, my insides throw a funeral – and I’m leading the ceremony.

-JW

619

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Photo by Maurício Mascaro from Pexels

Mad at my friends, in love with the freedom.

Fallen deep into the eyes of a beautiful weirdo.

But maybe we’re strangers now? Maybe it’s equal?

The lust, the loathing… And now we’re at zero?

We dance two steps back, one inch forward.

My family calls but I can’t come over.

Too busy figuring out the difference between love and disorder.

Truth rains in drops but it feels like a shower.

-JW

Four Walls

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Photo by Chanita Sykes from Pexels

Fill my cup with the strongest of drinks, make me feel less lonely.

These four walls tighten around my neck but they can’t really hold me.

Let my fantasy run miles, please don’t let it grow too phony.

When it’s too tired to carry on, I’ll live on pain and no sleep. You know me.

Paint my wrists in the brightest colors, cover all the mistakes.

I can’t erase what has been done, I can’t process my past in hot takes.

Slice my arguments ever so gently – the slower you go, the better it tastes.

Cut right through my throat when you get the chance. Don’t hit the brakes.

Never hit the brakes.

Take all my lies and run with them, pretend I’m not bluffing.

It might feel wrong but by now you must be used to handcuffing.

Breathe my deadly fumes in deeply, reduce your life to nothing.

These four walls tighten around my neck, yet it’s the reality that keeps cutting.

Please… keep me company while the gates are shutting.

-JW

Ghost House

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Photo by Lisa Fotios from Pexels

Who am I really? Nothing but someone to hold when you’re having fun.

Nothing else than another man’s forbidden fantasy of the month.

They only want to keep me alive until life gets in the way, then they get lost.

Going back to their wives is easy once they’ve gotten what they needed the most.

Yet – I’m still unaware what they came out to get. Thrill? Peace?

A piece of me?

I’m not sure my arms can put a wandering mind at ease.

The only thing I’m certain about is that I can’t go another night lonely.

Can’t keep up the pretend that I’m alright, even after they told me:

To never let my feelings roam the streets, especially if they’re messing with people already taken…

If the house is abandoned and filled with ghosts, I might as well break in.

Right? Or am I dismantling a firecracker of moral dilemmas here by just asking –

Is love another way to tie somebody down or is it really everlasting?

-JW

I hate this poem…

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I’m gonna love you from a distance. I’m gonna want you from a far.

I keep telling myself lies – that I’m good when we’re apart.

Sitting here, drinking, and hoping that a car ran me over today, twice.

For looking into those deadly nightshade eyes of yours I have to pay the price.

Have loved you for a week again, will hate you for the months to come –

But clearly that’s alright. I’d chug a pint of poison if it tastes like bubble gum.

Never been the quiet type, observer or admirer. I fucking hate this poem too.

When and why did I go blind? Why do I wonder tirelessly, without a clue?

I haven’t lost a part of me in you, yet what scares me the most here

Is that I’ve found something new, and that’s simply not fair.

None of my friends dare to ask what I’m truly feeling because they know

Once the truth’s out I’ll chase you like Wall Street guys from 80-s chased some blow.

I’m scared of ruining everything for you, but is there anything left to spoil?

When you speak of anyone else, the temperature raises as my blood begins to boil.

I’ve gone too low, I’ll admit it. My skull seems to be damaged with a crowbar.

Yet… I’m gonna love you from a distance. I’m gonna want you from a far.

-JW

playing jesus

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Photo by Arantxa Treva from Pexels

Three days ago I was head over heels for you. I was craving

Passion so disloyal it had a hit on my moral savings.

The fire exits were blocked and Missio was playing –

I couldn’t make sense of myself, but the reviews were raving.

Two days ago I had envisioned our first crash together,

Like two junkies, and you giving me a jacket in cold weather.

Or did you hate the plan from my very first dream, altogether?

Was it just me thinking of two cigarette buds as of birds of a feather?

Yesterday you had to enter the room twice before I noticed –

Out of the low hanging fruits, you reached for the lowest.

It must’ve really stung when you saw yourself falling out of focus

But don’t call yourself the victim when your alibis are bogus.

Today you shot your warnings and ended up gravely heedless.

It’s funny to think – I don’t know a person that I could need less.

Despise that the warmth of your neck still leaves me speechless.

Must’ve been a nightmare if I decided to fall for another one

In a desperate need to be jesus.

-JW