There is a reason I cherish the words
that make up the language of obsession.
-
I have half filled booklets
half filled with poems for you,
they are very stubborn,
but I cherish them,
and you.
-
I'm just as self obsessed,
as I am poetic.
Thick headed, can you tell?
I will acknowledge myself,
as speaker of these words
I'm so obsessed with,
because I cherish them,
and I cherish you,
and I am stubborn,
as a basso ostinato.
-
There is a reason, for these fractures.
I can't write you a poem that is perfect,
but these torn up shreds
of lines are perfectly aligned
to the way you make me feel.
-
Sometimes I cut myself
off at the worst time.
Whatever this is
my timing is worse.
Trust me I'm better off dead
set on finishing a fragment
than starting a conversation.
-
There is a very good reason for this,
but I have said far too much already.
YOU ARE READING
Thresheld
PoetryMy life is a series of thresholds that I overcome through poetry. Love, loss, pain, regret, humor, irony, word play, and even sarcasm are as much apart of my life as they are central to my poems here. I am Thresheld. UPDATE: It's been quite a few ye...
