Emergencies

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A poet
can stick anything into the fog and make it look like a ghost,
but tonight let us not become tragedies.

We are not funeral homes
with propane tanks in our windows
lookin’ like cemeteries.
Cemeteries are just the Earth’s way of not letting go.
Let go.

Tonight, Poets, let’s turn our wrists so far backwards
the razor blades in our pencil tips
can’t get a good angle on all that beauty inside.

Repeat after me with your heart:
I no longer need you to fuck me as hard as I hate myself.
Make love to me
like you know I am better than the worst thing I ever did.

Go slow.
I’m new to this,
but  I have seen nearly every city from a rooftop without jumping.
I have realized the moon did not have to be full for us to love it.
We are not tragedies
stranded here beneath it.

If my heart really broke every time I fell from love
I’d be able to offer you confetti by now.
But hearts don’t break, y’all.
They bruise and get better.

We were never tragedies.
We were emergencies.



Emergencies - Buddy Wakefield


Features

Writing


Naive is the new blackHis hot tongue pulses
with beats that promise mornings
of wild, new lives.
Magic fingers curl
around my shy, wishful breasts,
trace my virgin thighs.
He moans with pleasure
in every sexual dream
I can't bring to life.
I'll Love You Even In DeathHer hand tightens on mine
As I kiss her into the bed.
Her mouth is parted,
Inviting me in.
She's never acted this way before.
Always alone, always sulking.
But now she's opened up
She's shown me her scars, her tears.
I lick her neck right under the chin
She squirms under me, sighing for more.
But I don't.
Laying down besides her,
I kiss her on the head.
She may pout in protest,
But I just pull her closer.
Until she's wrapped in my arms.
She fits me, like a puzzle piece.
I'm not ever letting her go,
Not even if she dies.
I KnowI remember
when you were born,
you were so small
I was afraid to touch you.
But you came to me, right away.
I know you wanted
to be my child
and I obliged.
Yet I often wonder
who it was that rescued whom?
I remember
that cold November day
when you cuddled against daddy,
warm inside his coat
and fell asleep.
I know you wanted
to stay always indoors
away from that wretched cold,
against which your dark, silky hair
simply was no match.
I remember
when you first spoke,
your voice so small.
How my ears perked up, and my heart leaped
when you tried to say "Mom".
I know you want
to speak just like me,
but for never saying a word
your vocabulary is superb.
And I wonder which of us
is the true poet.
I remember
when you tried so hard to walk,
balancing upright against the wall, so proud.
I know you want
to walk just like me,
and I'm sorry I'm such a poor example;
And my limps, my crutches, my misplaced steps
make your efforts all the more valiant.
I remember
those gorgeous eyes
blooming gold rig


© 2011 - 2024 WH1T3-N0153
Comments13
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LadyofGaerdon's avatar
Wow, that is really good! I like your stuff better, though. :D

Thank you so much for the feature! :dance: