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Best Poems From
JESSY LIZ
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145.
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Take Me. Break Me.
Take me.
Break me.
Devastate me.
I'm yours,
For now
Until you kill me with your doubt.
Burn me.
Hurt me.
Let me fall
And then desert me.
Watch me die,
Melt away into this lie..
Your lie..
God I hate you
But still I know at least you're mine.
You're all I have
And all I need
And you're everything
I want to be.
To ANA
Jessy Liz
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146.
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Tangle
Tangled up in sheer deceit
She hides her tears beneath the sheets.
He holds on tight and she lets go
But there’s so many lies she’s told.
So for now she’ll settle on one sure thing
But soon she’ll see it’s just a game.
And she’ll smile right now with empty pride-
So later she can die inside.
And she cannot see
Past the lies he’s told..
Past the “you and me”
And she doesn’t care-
This isn’t going anywhere….
Because tonight...
All she wants is him.
Jessy Liz
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147.
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Tasteless Reality
She’s getting weaker by the minute-
Purging every broken dream.
She’s dying to be perfect-
And she’s going to extremes.
Days are passing by,
And she’s eating less and less
Friends and family
Are begging her to confess.
God forgive her-
She knows she can’t give in.
Trapped in a bittersweet world-
She’s living off of this sin.
She’s eating up every minute
Of her tasteless reality.
She’s trying to be strong-
For God’s sake, can’t you see?
She’s purging every memory-
Every single thought of you.
She’s starving herself to death
So that you can see her, too.
She only wants to be perfect-
Surely that much can be attained?
But her slowly blurring vision
Is only getting in the way.
Sinking to the floor,
She knows it’s over now-
How did it come to this?
Now her silence seems so loud,
So loud…
To ANA....
Jessy Liz
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148.
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The beginning of a book?
(PAGE ONE)
Perhaps I loved him more than I meant to, but I couldn't help caring less than I should.
I should warn you, whoever may be reading this slightly fictitious work, that I may at times seem cynical. Forgive me. I am but human, and undoubtedly an estrogen-bearing woman. I, like so many others, have been jaded- often and relentlessly I might add. Through the years I've seen my share of heartbreak, thought not to say I've felt it. (Sometimes one can turn cold not from experiencing it herself, but from watching someone she loved so dearly go through it prior.) I will, should you care to go on with me, tell you of these dismal creatures so humbly called men.
Eathan. Oh, Eathan. I loved him because he captured in me what I was never allowed to expose: my spontaneous, rebellious, turn-against-the-system side. He was what my mother warned me to steer clear of. Yes, he was the prime example of what 'Mother wouldn't want'. But then, maybe that's why I was drawn to him.
He came to me one summer in the middle of another whirlwind romance. I can't say I thought anything of him at the time. I merely stood back in awe, better described as my 'to-a-fault' bashfulness. I studied his ways on our first few meetings together, much as a child would study a spider before approaching it. I was fascinated by his rebel ways, but intimidated, too. It seemed he lived his life in a system of no consequences, free as the wind- just like me. Something about his not quite six-foot frame and harsh blonde hair spoke to me. Maybe it was the tattoos up and down his arms: a broken heart, a sparrow, and a black cat. It sparked an interest, that much was sure. He was so aloof, so allusive. I had to know more.
A couple months after the tragic end of that whirlwind romance that had kept me from Eathan, I received a phone call at an ungodly hour of the morning. I was surprised to hear Eathan's voice on the other end.
'Prue? ' he'd asked. Prue was short for Prudence. Why my mother had named me this I'll never understand. I certainly wasn't any role model for such virtue. But perhaps it was to keep me from turning out the way she did. At seventeen she bore an illegitimate child, introducing to the world yours truly.
'Eathan? ' I'd asked wearily, my eyes not yet open.
'Prue, I love you, ' was all he said. No further explanation required. And perhaps without meaning it fully, it surprised us both when I answered back with an abrupt 'I love you, too'. And oh, to be cliché, the rest was history.
My life was filled with fabulous adventures of pure spontaneity in the coming months. We were the type to drive until the end of the road, never knowing or caring which way it was headed. We stayed out too late and broke all the rules. And it was divine. I wasn't used to this apathetic lifestyle. I'd been raised a God-fearing woman by that same mother who was, surprisingly, devoutly catholic. Low-cut shirts and short skirts were sins. I lived out that relationship to the fullest as if to say 'Look at me now'.
However, just like everything else, it came to an end. Eathan turned to drugs and drinking, and just like every other addict, they became his top priorities. I was second best to cocaine and whisky, and that just wasn't good enough for me.
Jessy Liz
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