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Tammy
by V. BlakeThis one's for every guy
who loved you less than I could have.
It's for every Valentine's Day
spent with the wrong people.
It's for every vicious molecule
that's ever passed between you and me.
I'm writing this because it's winter
in every piece of my god-forsaken memories
that I have to fast-forward past because of you,
and because you're smiling in every wasted one of them.
This poem is the emptiness between your swing and mine
at that infinite wasteland of a playground.
It's the bloodstains on the dead leaves
from when you tried hanging Christmas lights on thornbushes.
And this? This right here is the melancholy we felt
at finding them no more beautiful in their disguise.
This is every single dream I'll ever have
about the way things should have gone,
and every last immaculate one
I doubt you ever had. 11/22/2009 Posted on 11/22/2009
Copyright © 2024 V. Blake
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Rachel Bennett on 11/22/09 at 10:12 PM "This poem is the emptiness between your swing and mine". I think the imagery here stings for everyone who has ever consciously distanced him- or herself from another. Amazing work! |
| Posted by Alison McKenzie on 11/24/09 at 09:38 AM Intense is spot on, and the way you describe the situation is very vivid for me. |
| Posted by Tony Whitaker on 11/24/09 at 03:34 PM The last stanza seals with a kiss the mystic memories of lost love, a nail on the coffin of constant sorrow. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 11/24/09 at 03:57 PM "This poem is the emptiness between your swing and mine
at that infinite wasteland of a playground.
It's the bloodstains on the dead leaves
from when you tried hanging Christmas lights on thornbushes" - great lines. Thank you. |
| Posted by Kimberly Bauer on 12/30/10 at 02:03 AM Can't say enough good things without sounding so cliche. You are now one of my favorites. |
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