Poems about Joshua

You’re too deep for me
Too complex for me
Much too hurt for me
Too unmoved for me
Thus you trouble me
But reside with me.
I’m too good for you
Pour myself to you.

(Some people, some firsts, one never forgets)

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What are those ink sheets called?
You know,the one with the splatters
when they ask you the first thought
that crosses your mind?
Could they be anything?
or at the same time they’re nothing?
It’s like you walk through life with the subtleties
that sparks past memories like those ink splatters.
Then you realize it’s just ink splatters, or it’s just
a tree in the park or a song on the radio.
That’s all it’s meant to be.
Though it’s black ink on the white paper,
it doesn’t make gray, it’s a black and white issue.
It’s the past and now.Different story, don’t intertwine.
Each leaf on each tree is it’s own leafand every conversation is different
even if have the same conservations over and over.
Each moment is different
even when you want them to be the same.
Black stays away from white on the ink sheets,
they’re nothing really, because if they were something,
you wouldn’t be thinking about something else.

I wrote this two years ago. Today, somehow, it rears it's relevance.
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He thinks,
I suppose the purpose of poetry
is to allow a truth to exhale

But it's
Beautifully masked over each insecurity
Masterfully voided of sacred arms
stolen from beneath me

Overcome with rhythms, making such a deepness flowery
Can't stop the words unneeded to bring back our
simplicity

Denying vulnerability caused from
a crystal chemistry

a disallowed intensity

Because
you've forgotten to remember me
But pretended to have forgiven me
Without
first uncluttering your memories
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I love someone who I can't remember,
someone who I could no longer mentally sketch,
Large piercing olive eyes,
straights nose
Light caramel skin,
Messy Thick Dark hair
His strong thin features,
But how to put it all together,
...I just don't remember

A voice I knew,
a Southern dialect from one
confused
between a gentle man,
and a man not gentle

To make me sit, occupying the cold walls of my room
making myself remember

and if going back to that place,
is the only place where he is reconsidered

I must discern
reconsider
remember
a deniable difference
between my lover and the one whom I desire.

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Damn it
You give me reason to cry when I have no reason
You give me reason to question myself
And all that I can be
I guess I just miss the passion
The yelling, the screaming, the crying
The feeling of being pathetic
And knowing that you pathetically need me in turn
An excuse to be worthless, and weak
You’re my person to yell ‘fuck you’ at,
And the one I said ‘love you’ to
You made me feel less than these dumb bitches
You pushed my patience,made me empathetic
Pointed out my ignorance
And allowed me into yours
And I don’t want a bastard back in my life
But I dream of where my baby is,
I think of who my baby’s with,
I fucking hate that to me you could still be
sacred,
And that I’m holding myself back
because every other boy becomes your replacement.
But you weren’t anywhere close to being good enough for me.
God damn it Joshua,
damn it.
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