Grass

Writing

I’m a hot bothered piece of grass lying in a valley.

There is a hot wind in my face; it feels like a heat has been promenading about my cheeks.

The wind moves me.

Not physically, but mentally.

The wind feels like it touches my soul and I can actually be someone.

This wind it fed my habits, I didn’t need to move ever again.

So I wait for someone to become the soil I lay on and get support from.

I don’t want to dream of another failed love attempt, an attempt where I speak words to your ears.

You absorb them into your eardrums, seeming to care.

You listen to another’s words too.

Silly of me to think I had your affection.

For I am too sweet, too kind, I am just a naïve fool right?

If you think so well fuck you.

I may be sweet, I may be kind but I am no fool.

I am just unable to tell you how I feel because I have never been good with expression.

People will think I have changed, but I haven’t.

I’ve matured and I’ve grown.

I wanted you; I wanted everything to be alright. I wanted to grab you and hold you tighter than most and kiss you.

You haven’t said anything, you always never spoke.

You always seemed happy.

I can’t read you.

I wanted you, I wanted your beauty.

I don’t want it anymore; you’ve given me enough confusion and pain now.

I created a new motto for myself,

“I’ll start loving more when you start giving shits”

I’m half way into free falling from your thoughts.

I’d love to shove a few aspirin down your throat and let you choke on them.

My requests to you would go from “can I have a hug?” to “can you stop breathing”

I hate your cute smile and your loving words.

I wanted you but you seemed to want your past.

Fuck my words? Fuck your mentality.

I’m done with life; I’ll let this bullet play hero.

Save the world from another angst teenage heart.

There is gunpowder within the grasses palms.

There is a scent that is peaceful, still disturbed.

The blade of grass in the valley stares upon my eyes,

I blink the grass becomes a green patch within my hands.

I don’t know what I am doing anymore.

I need something to save me.

That wind blows over my hand again it takes away these tainted grass blades from my hand.

These tainted thoughts are no longer within me.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s