Tag: Unwritten Sentiments

Lips Of A Crowd

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I enjoyed our love much better when I saw it on TV,

With pre-written sentiments and romance

Measured in electric scenes.

I wish it was harder to move onto the next faked paradise.

But the promised lands keep rising

So I refuse to compromise.

I wish I was sorry, I wish you could hire all the best critics.

They would promise you that it’s fine

To never share the writing credits.

What you offered in shine, you held back in desired solace.

I bet nowadays you laugh at those who ask

What it means to be honest.

Maybe some great stories are not supposed be this loud,

And it’s better we ruptured quickly

Between the lips of a crowd.

-JW

Unwanted Appreciations

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Roaring applause is sweeping the halls, just roaring applause.

Where most saw a green light, I took a silent pause.

The lungs stopped expanding, they collapsed within me,

One final attempt by the sadness to gracefully kill me.

And some electric bolts shot out my holographic shoes.

You could easily find me if you followed the blues.

There’s a clock in my body right where most hearts lie.

It counts the times I’ve split my chin open and apologized.

The crowds get louder but my feet is fleeing the scene.

The rocks in my pockets dance like some cursed fiends.

But the sound of the claps still follows, even after dark.

Perhaps if I embrace their “thank yous”,

I won’t have to fight so hard.

-JW

History’s Greatest Heartbreaks

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Writing letters to the ghost of your face in my window never helped.

My pencil was sharp enough to kill a man

But I stabbed books on the shelves.

I carved harsh words into the rocks hiding at the deep end,

Wishing I could take a jab at you instead,

Just to let go of this empty feeling.

My starving mind exhumed the memories and made me look

As the skeletons of our love faded,

Turned into thieves and crooks.

But maybe evaporation’s more beautiful than combustion,

And not all the history’s greatest heartbreaks

End in a crime of passion.

-JW

The Things You Leave Behind

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Wish I could return your plain white T-shirts

To the hell loop where Satan caught three fevers.

The news call my exit a violent seizure

When you’ve barely loved me for two whole seasons.

Letters keep coming so I write off my pity,

Dry my hands in silk dresses from the long lost city.

Your bitter tears echo as my tongue grows slippy.

The diamonds you bought no longer fit me.

And I lock the gates, cover them in barbed wire –

In case I want to flee my soul and retire,

In case I seek out a gun for hire

To kill your belongings in a ceaseless fire.

Doesn’t mean I don’t have the means to do it,

To drown the reminders, all the nights in Munich.

But they won’t imbibe touline or lighter fluid

And I know one day I’ll profoundly rue it,

This abyss of my own wrong doing.

-JW

Humming

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I wish for a dreamless sleep,

I beg for a drugless lullaby.

Each time the covers bleed,

You don’t stay to apologize.

The window cries in chrome

And my pillows collect dust.

They say you can’t build a home

With pure anger and lust.

But I beg to differ, dear,

My heart sparks neon for you,

It trembles when you’re near,

When you make me into a fool.

So the sleep never comes,

The mind hums like a buzzed dame.

Still – out of all the loves,

I’d choose yours all the same.

-JW