Abashed

chagrin1

January stuffed me into

This tar pit pipe

If you could just take your knife from my lungs,

That heavy sob still resounding,

The unbalance has obliterated cosmos

Unspeakable Unraveling

I would sleep for hours…

Fall was the heralding scream

Sounding with the descending leaves

Played a taunting tune

Scoffing today

In us

The heart has grown weary of disrupting sobs

Veins turned vile green

Arteries clogged with dubiety

Love wheezes with a winter cough,

Growing harder to proclaim

Between labored gasps and effortful patience

Spring does not run happily forward

Rather, Sputters into our world of lukewarm passion

Midway in sullenness and bickering

It remains addled

New vines paralyzed before the renewal is even concieved

What jovial adoration reverbrated formerly

Has sunken with the palace

Built upon resolute devotion

And haunts all attemps to reconsile

The hope of a new day

Has long retreated

Freezing with the skin that is no longer touched.

Weakly crawling to beg at knees that have deserted me

I pummel below at the sight of your face,

Turned from me.

 

You will not weep in hopelessness

You will not weep

You will not

 

Turn to look at me.

How daringly chilly those eyes burn.

 

Jamie Williams grew up in Oneonta, AL. She started writing at the age of 11, and her work is mostly inspired by fiery love gone awry. She loves reading, the outdoors, animals, Italian food, and rock music. She currently resides in Virginia with her children and cats.