take your smile (and twist it out)

I hate that you made me hate you
close that rage in a cage
and let the fire burn out,
looking past the bars to shout.
shut down the time you said you'd
bring me ice condensation stars
just to make the smile come out.

bring the world into this room
and see the hurt bloom
and maybe you'll see all the
moments you could've set me free:
like ice glazed crystal trees
that are longing to reach the sun
before the day is done and done.

oh, and i lose control:
tugging at the strings you hold me in.
and oh, i hate that you smile;
i want to take it away for a while
tear it up and hold the scatters
while you lose everything that matters.
and oh, i hate all that you say,
want to mar the steel in your ears
with crusted rust so you can't hear
all the jeers that i can't contain.

curl my fingers into my wrist
and make a skeleton tight fist
and twist it in your heart.
take away the crying eyes
from the socket like a pocket
in your face, you don't mean it
anyways.
all the cries, i know they're fake.

so, take all the hate that i feel,
burning under confined tan peels
like kindling in the fire,
let it consume all that made
us you and me, me and you.
just end this mockery, charade before
i wilt like petals to the floor
exhausted from the hate forming
clots under my skin.

---

Wow, didn't mean to make this long. Just an emotion purge, once again. It's probably no good.

hate/love and all those breaks.

Basically, we parted on mutual terms. It truly was, and now, all he wants is me back. and i can't help but think that he's not genuine. cause the only times he tries is when he's tripped up in the lies. when he's hurt me so much that i can't feel the cuts because they're just too much. and how am i supposed to forgive, if all i know of him is all the things he did to let me down? i don't know. love only goes so far; the rest is responsibility, work, courage, wisdom. you can't just rely on the love to carry you through, like you're riding through life and maintaining the minimum you need to stay afloat.

on others' angry words.

I read these poems, words by others
Loud and proud about their anger
their frustration, and all their bothers
Decorating the page with red gems
that flare and spark and rage.

And I think, they are in pain
and need to beat against the drum
of the world, making noise like a storm
and letting their lips twist with anger, plump
with emotions too loud to be held
in their tiny little chest.

but for me, i write about anger softly,
like a wave lapping at the shore.
pain as a dull ache, oscitant and yawning.
stretching out, probing, creating small scars
growing on my skin like a sun dawning.
for me, I let it grow through me
like a disease languidly making its way
from my mouth down to my tiny little heart.