Cross My Heart; Hope to Die

Wondering what I’ve been doing lately? Writing bad poetry, of course. I really wanted it to snow today.


You promised me wind and snow

and gave me sun.

You promised fire and passion

and gave a cold shoulder.

You promised love and future;

I have the blackest nights.

Without you,

promises are my only hope.



You Left

Disclaimer: This is not a poem as I am in no way a poet. Instead, merely find a terse philosophical observation/correlation/comparison between the words a beloved has spoken, a hastily written note, and my heart at the moment.

You write care,

misspelled or illegible,

and strikethrough.

You write hope

only to scribble it out later

with thick, black lead.

You write love,

but the eraser-thinned paper gets

crumpled and thrown away.

My heart still reads

the impression

you left.

The Hanged Man

Four poster legs and sleep

in dark and loneliness.

Sacrifice for fire,

for you and for her.

A tear stained with life

hanging low from a beam,

drips suffering slow

to the iron-soaked earth.

It devours each day

the hunger never slaked.

Renewed with the stars,

there is no hope for me.

But peace replaces my guilt

for one day it ends.

You will be with her,

and I will be free.