Organ Donor
Death becomes her,
she who bled
until her skin grew pale
and the floor turned red
See, she so loved a man
that she sliced her chest
to give him what rested
beneath her left breast
A trembling finger
dipped in crimson ink
wrote three lonely words
in the kitchen sink
"I love you." But the words
slowly dripped down the drain
silent in their path,
stripped of their name
She'd offered him her heart,
but he couldn't do the same
now her heart rests on ice
waiting to be claimed
Her love seems dead forever,
though her body never died
Some call it murder,
others say it's suicide
she needs a love transfusion
to revive her icy veins
since she numbed her sense of feeling
to block out all the pain
Maybe she'll find a transplant
and the heart's noble owner
will be the one to love her
as she loves her organ donor.
she who bled
until her skin grew pale
and the floor turned red
See, she so loved a man
that she sliced her chest
to give him what rested
beneath her left breast
A trembling finger
dipped in crimson ink
wrote three lonely words
in the kitchen sink
"I love you." But the words
slowly dripped down the drain
silent in their path,
stripped of their name
She'd offered him her heart,
but he couldn't do the same
now her heart rests on ice
waiting to be claimed
Her love seems dead forever,
though her body never died
Some call it murder,
others say it's suicide
she needs a love transfusion
to revive her icy veins
since she numbed her sense of feeling
to block out all the pain
Maybe she'll find a transplant
and the heart's noble owner
will be the one to love her
as she loves her organ donor.
Labels: heartache
posted by rozm!chelle at 11:49 PM
1 comments
Friday, February 13, 2009
Friday The 13th
28 days in this miserable month
named February.
(curses to her very existence)
and this year,
it isn't Friday the 13th
that I fear; it's the day after:
Saturday, the 14th.
a day that reminds me of my solitude
in the middle of millions celebrating
the disgusting characteristics
of love.
eew.
it really
makes me
sick.
i'm not afraid of superstitions
or solemn black cats;
ladders, spilled salt
or stepping on cracks.
today, i'm just fine
but tomorrow...i fear
that being alone
is all that i'll remember.
if i see one more damn Kay commercial
or hear about one more chick
whose man went to Jared's,
or witness one more pink heart,
Hallmark card or red rose
i'm likely to punch in a wall
or two
because, damn it all,
i deserve to be spoiled
and loved
and reminded how beautiful
and smart, and talented
and friggin' magnificent i am,
if on no other day.
but for the 24th year,
i will be
lonely
on what should be a woman's
fuzziest day...
the day that will become
my very misery
in the absence of what should be
the presence of him.
but he gave up on us.
and 28 days later,
exactly four weeks of space
in between us,
i will rise in the morning.
i will feel unloved.
i will crave the emotions
that other women will bathe in
as i remember
that this one day...
i'm a bitter lonely woman
who just wants a damn hug.
someone ask Chucky
or Jason
or Freddie
if they'll take a break from killing
and be my valentine.
it's not them i fear
on this largely cursed day.
it's cupid who scares me.
Sunday, please,
come quickly.
named February.
(curses to her very existence)
and this year,
it isn't Friday the 13th
that I fear; it's the day after:
Saturday, the 14th.
a day that reminds me of my solitude
in the middle of millions celebrating
the disgusting characteristics
of love.
eew.
it really
makes me
sick.
i'm not afraid of superstitions
or solemn black cats;
ladders, spilled salt
or stepping on cracks.
today, i'm just fine
but tomorrow...i fear
that being alone
is all that i'll remember.
if i see one more damn Kay commercial
or hear about one more chick
whose man went to Jared's,
or witness one more pink heart,
Hallmark card or red rose
i'm likely to punch in a wall
or two
because, damn it all,
i deserve to be spoiled
and loved
and reminded how beautiful
and smart, and talented
and friggin' magnificent i am,
if on no other day.
but for the 24th year,
i will be
lonely
on what should be a woman's
fuzziest day...
the day that will become
my very misery
in the absence of what should be
the presence of him.
but he gave up on us.
and 28 days later,
exactly four weeks of space
in between us,
i will rise in the morning.
i will feel unloved.
i will crave the emotions
that other women will bathe in
as i remember
that this one day...
i'm a bitter lonely woman
who just wants a damn hug.
someone ask Chucky
or Jason
or Freddie
if they'll take a break from killing
and be my valentine.
it's not them i fear
on this largely cursed day.
it's cupid who scares me.
Sunday, please,
come quickly.
Labels: heartache
posted by rozm!chelle at 3:14 AM
1 comments
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Speak Now
I spoke to him last night.
He called, I answered
and to hear his voice
was to reignite a flame
but very little oxygen
was there to be consumed.
It was a slow conversation,
weighed down by heavy layers
of tension and uneasiness
after 3 weeks gone unspoken.
but we sat there, the silence
thickening over the line.
for a while, it's been difficult
to voice my concerns,
what i've learned, what i think,
and curiosity about his stance:
i wanted to express these things
but my tongue remained still.
do i spill my emotions,
when he silences his so well?
i've taken my heart off my sleeve;
too much of me was vulnerable.
do i cut her out again
so i may tell him how i feel?
but what's the use, when all he'll do
is take it in with no response.
it's not as if something will change;
miracles don't happen
in the absence of concern.
he'd have to want it, which he won't.
i'd have to fight for it,
which i can no longer do.
so i'm left with a choice:
say it now and free myself,
exhale these thoughts that keep me
sinking in diluted love.
or hold it down with lock and key
and digest it on my own
so i may silently struggle
and forever hold my peace.
He called, I answered
and to hear his voice
was to reignite a flame
but very little oxygen
was there to be consumed.
It was a slow conversation,
weighed down by heavy layers
of tension and uneasiness
after 3 weeks gone unspoken.
but we sat there, the silence
thickening over the line.
for a while, it's been difficult
to voice my concerns,
what i've learned, what i think,
and curiosity about his stance:
i wanted to express these things
but my tongue remained still.
do i spill my emotions,
when he silences his so well?
i've taken my heart off my sleeve;
too much of me was vulnerable.
do i cut her out again
so i may tell him how i feel?
but what's the use, when all he'll do
is take it in with no response.
it's not as if something will change;
miracles don't happen
in the absence of concern.
he'd have to want it, which he won't.
i'd have to fight for it,
which i can no longer do.
so i'm left with a choice:
say it now and free myself,
exhale these thoughts that keep me
sinking in diluted love.
or hold it down with lock and key
and digest it on my own
so i may silently struggle
and forever hold my peace.
Labels: heartache, relationships
posted by rozm!chelle at 1:04 AM
1 comments