I Doubt She Will See This

Saturday 9th June 2018 3:17 am

I'm chain-smoking menthol cigarettes
Melancholy and pacing in the parking lot
I stare at the stars thinking of you
Talking to myself barefooted on the warm concrete

I may be taller than you
But I'm here without you
So where's the bright side in it
Because I don't see one without you

Abandon hope and now I'm just letting myself bleed
Bashing my head on the concrete
I stare at the stars thinking of you
Waiting on the day you come back home

Just never forget your a beautiful angel
No matter what I will always love you
So don't let your depression win
The cigarettes and alcohol on breath was my lullaby

Comments

Big Sal

Sun 10th Jun 2018 21:26

What a nightly ritual to partake in. Keep pouring your emotions into your writing and the art will only continue to get better with time. Maybe even some wounds can heal a bit, no? Either way, another good one.?

<Deleted User> (13762)

Sun 10th Jun 2018 08:28

each to their own Damon - as long as the process of pacing the parking lot provides you with inspiration to write great poetry . . .

Sofia Urquiza

Sun 10th Jun 2018 00:21

Lovely poem Blackery ? Btw sometimes we doubt many things when in fact they're out there wondering the same way ? Edit "you're" on the first line of last paragraph?

Damon Blackery

Sat 9th Jun 2018 21:34

This poem is actually based on what I do every night from 11 to 12.

<Deleted User> (13762)

Sat 9th Jun 2018 20:50

love that last line Damon. I hope you don't mind but I tinkered with your poem and took out some of the miss you / love you lines which I believe don't add anything. Here's what I got which I also think is the essence of your poem and shows how your writing has real guts and depth when freed from the miss you's and love you's etc. These are still your own words and I think they are fab. Keep writing and experimenting Damon - you have something worth encouraging. Col.

I'm chain-smoking menthol cigarettes
Melancholy and pacing in the parking lot
Talking to myself barefooted on the warm concrete

I may be taller than you
But I'm here without you
So where's the bright side in it?

And now I'm just letting myself bleed
Bashing my head on the concrete
Waiting on the day you come back home

The cigarettes and alcohol on breath was my lullaby

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

I Doubt She Will See This

Comments

Please consider supporting us