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I Love You Enough To Fix You
Posted by
Kughii
,
in
Poetry
Oct 26 2011
·
37 views
Kughii Acceptance conundrums drama poetry comedy logic
I love you.
Take my words,
And place them in your heart,
Like the batteries to an alarm clock,
setting off your world at the right time.
Let me help you,
Let me open up that door,
Get you that coffee at Starbucks.
Take a look.
I'm not doing anything,
You wouldn't do for me,
Right?
Sitting down on summer nights,
Bundled up for Winter's sights,
Spread eagle on the floor,
Light flitting from around the edge,
An opening door.
I love you enough to fix you,
Don't turn away from me.
Acceptance from the many,
Acceptance isn't just a game.
To out in the streets,
Not normal,
Not sweet,
Broken golf club,
half-gone cigarette,
Sweetly talking,
Like you know what's best.
Speak softly.
Whisper loud.
Children should not meet the dying breath of your world.
When you go with a bang,
I'll be at the side of the bridge,
Laughing,
As you drop.
It was your own fault.
I loved you enough to fix you,
Why wouldn't you let me fix you?
You were my Ibis,
My exotic bird,
Dying with a croak,
Disheveled in my driveway.
Was being me so bad?
----
NOTE: NO, I'm not suicidal, phycopathic or anything like that... I've been writing an essay about the meaning of James Hurst's "Scarlet Ibis" and I needed to vent. Do enjoy!
Take my words,
And place them in your heart,
Like the batteries to an alarm clock,
setting off your world at the right time.
Let me help you,
Let me open up that door,
Get you that coffee at Starbucks.
Take a look.
I'm not doing anything,
You wouldn't do for me,
Right?
Sitting down on summer nights,
Bundled up for Winter's sights,
Spread eagle on the floor,
Light flitting from around the edge,
An opening door.
I love you enough to fix you,
Don't turn away from me.
Acceptance from the many,
Acceptance isn't just a game.
To out in the streets,
Not normal,
Not sweet,
Broken golf club,
half-gone cigarette,
Sweetly talking,
Like you know what's best.
Speak softly.
Whisper loud.
Children should not meet the dying breath of your world.
When you go with a bang,
I'll be at the side of the bridge,
Laughing,
As you drop.
It was your own fault.
I loved you enough to fix you,
Why wouldn't you let me fix you?
You were my Ibis,
My exotic bird,
Dying with a croak,
Disheveled in my driveway.
Was being me so bad?
----
NOTE: NO, I'm not suicidal, phycopathic or anything like that... I've been writing an essay about the meaning of James Hurst's "Scarlet Ibis" and I needed to vent. Do enjoy!
