Pavlovd [Poetry]

You know I’ll be around when your heart starts tearing,
When it gets harder to breathe and you start heaving,
And the room gets darker and hope seems fainter,
When The End is in sight and you can’t be any more eager.

You know I’m there, before I can even say.
The second your heart splits, the second it sways,
In the thick of the blizzard; underneath the snow,
In the heat of the moment; the climax of your woe.

I’ll be around, by instinct more than will,
To see you to that same old trip downhill.
When your heart starts tearing, you know I’ll be around;
Conditioned to come running when I hear that sound.

You call me over to listen to thoughts of calling quits,
What ifs, and regrets, to the beat of your broken heart, moonlit.
I’ll be there, I don’t have to say,
At the first beat of that broken heart, I’ll be on my way.

© coversonyourbed

Word count: 160
Is it weird that I message you at the most complicated times of your life? You’ve yourself to thank.

Was There [Micro-Poetry]

Was there a start without an inevitable end?
When lines reach the edge,
Do they keep going or simply bend?
Why are these letters addressed,
If you had no intention to send?

Was there a go that had no inevitable stop?
Can I surpass gravity – to fall and never drop?
How low can I go
Before I find myself crawling up?
Why would you let the phone ring thrice
If you had no intention to wait for me to pick up?

© coversonyourbed

Word count: 82

Self-inflicted [Micro-Poetry]

This isn’t what you need,
And how couldn’t you know?
Because it’s not me you’re mad at,
Look in the mirror, you’ll see;
You don’t know what you want,
And that frustrates you.
I’m not here to see you out,
Just listen to me talk;
Because I’ve tried this before,
Now isn’t any different.
It should come naturally, you think,
But know now it never does.
Everything will never be enough,
Not for the likes of you.

Word count: 77

From Long Absence [Micro-Poetry]

I’ve found my muse in rage
In anger, doubt, and bitterness
On my insecurities she thrives
And arrives in fits of ire
Teeth clenched

I’ve found my muse in rage
In pain and despair
At the sound of my dropping heart
She is there
Writhing, screaming
Boiling blood in tow

© coversonyourbed

Word count: 50
I’m still getting used to my current schedule so I haven’t been posting as much as I planned at the start of the year. I still do think that I’ll be able to post regularly soon. Also, if you haven’t already, please take a look at this piece from my chapbook which I will soon be making available for free online.

The Silence in the Blur [Micro-Poetry]

I must be going deaf.
The lines are pure static,
Whispers, no words, just noise.

I try to call the past,
I’m lost in my own self.
My ears dig deep: nothing.

To this blur I’d rather
Sink into my own thoughts.
To this noise I’d rather
Ever growing silence.

© coversonyourbed

Word count: 50
Some days I would crave a particular song but i wouldn’t know which and everything would just sound like noise. I’d dig through my collection and never find what it is I’m looking for. I’d put on a favorite track but I’d only disappoint and scare myself when I find myself indifferent to it.