Not A Love Letter

Not a Love Letter

Mr. ToCoolToCare, that’s me. Your almighty revelation made me

laugh in your face. Mr.ToKillToCare, that’s me. Or rather, that was

me, or maybe that will always be me. But for now, that was me. Not

a love letter. A silence so cold that it burns. I gave you answers yet

you refused to hear the truth. Or rather you refused to hear MY truth, the

right truth. Not a love letter. My bet was off, the bet was off, all bets

were off. Such a silly game I played, I know. Like a wine connoisseur

I tasted and tasted until I realized that the perfect bottle was right in

front of me. When I found you, I held you, I tasted you, I would not

let you go. I could not let you go. But in my drunken haze, oblivious to

the obvious, I did not realize that you were prying yourself loose from my

hands and into that of a layman. One who I once thought of as a good friend.

But when you left you were a bottle half empty, or so I thought. By contrast,

you were barely sipped yet you still managed to put me in that state.

Kudos. Not a love letter. All I see is gray but when I look at you

I see fifty shades of pain. I’m here in the dark where I’ve finally

let the tears out. No one can see me here. No one will ever see

me here. Not a love letter. My glasses are fogged and I lose my way

until I come across a tunnel with what I can make out as the

words “You” and “I’. Yet a voice, a powerful female voice tells

me that this cannot be true. My glasses clear and the one tunnel

can now be distinguished as two. While one tunnel is void of light

the other seems to shine brighter than the sun. Can you guess which

one is “You’ and which one is “I”? I’m left to ponder ‘why’ in

the abyss that is my tunnel. Now I arrive. We are two 

different people. And that’s why we were perfect. Not a love letter.

Guide that inspired this poem: 

Comments

Metro.Black

Mocking Tree 

Don’t fear, Don’t fear, Don’t fear, the Mocking Tree.

                                                                 Where hundreds were hanged.

                                                                And hundreds now sleep.

                                                                Forever encumbered by its gnarly roots.

                                                                  And for never capable of hurting you.

Don’t fear, Don’t fear, Don’t fear, the Mocking Tree.

                                                                Where hundreds were hanged.

                                                                  And hundreds now sleep.

                                                 So resilient people think in its quest for blood.

                                                                 Yet so tender in its quest for love.

Don’t fear, Don’t fear, Don’t fear, the Mocking Tree.

                                                                  Where hundreds were hanged.

                                                                                And hundreds now sleep.

                                                  Once succinctly beautiful with its eerie white roses.

                                                 But now stained in red with its eerie crimson roses.

Don’t fear, Don’t fear, Don’t fear, the Mocking Tree.

                                                                  Where hundreds were hanged.

                                                                  And hundreds now sleep.

                                                                Acrimonious thoughts ever so flowing.

                                                   From the people that think it death.

                                       Don’t fear, Don’t fear, Don’t fear, the Mocking Tree.

                                                                  Where hundreds were hanged.

                                                                  And hundreds now sleep.

                                 The acquiescence on the devil’s breath.

                                                To stop and rest under the tree of death.

Don’t fear, Don’t fear, Don’t fear, the Mocking Tree.

                                                                   Where hundreds were hanged

                                                                     And hundreds now sleep

                                                                    where hundreds were hanged

                                                                          and hundreds now sleep

                                                                  Where hundreds were hanged…….

                                                                     And hundreds now sleep.

Vale0626

Listen, listen, listen by the mocking tree

                          you might just hear the voices

                          of the hundreds who sleep

                            and they tell you 

                             dont cry for me

Listen, listen, listen to the mocking tree

                         Where I found myself

                         Where you found me

                         I listened to the songs 

                          and they set me free

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