Billy

3 Comments

Tags:
  • Lost Love
    • jude
    • says what is status to true life anyways

    Billy

    Billy
    We
    Long road stretches
    Wind frolicking through hair
    Sun shining
    Lips smiling
    Feet on dash
    No other place in the world
    And I loved you

    But things have a way of melting away
    In life
    Dripping smearing and fading like a pen written letter
    Getting covered in tears
    I hesitate to use the word different
    But things were somewhat perforated
    Where I came from
    And my struggles to be a simple human being
    And I don’t know about you
    Or why you did what you did
    I just know that I told you the truth
    You told me the same
    And then hid
    Now I can’t help but remember
    That special place in my heart
    You stole from me forever
    And feel
    And I can’t help but be resentful
    For the fact it will never recover
    That I foolishly gave it to you
    Something precious you can never give back
    And nothing has felt the same since
    And not even you could feel the same to me
    Ever again
    And I regret so fully
    Because even back then I knew
    I deserved nothing less than the truth
    But I couldn’t stand up and take it
    Because of the way life made it
    For me

    Often now I look back
    And wish I could return with how I am
    With the strength and knowledge to wait
    And take
    The so many things I did wrong
    So many years that were wasted
    That one was wasted on you

    But I have passed that now
    And matured somehow
    Through the birth of so many children
    Which is not how it is supposed to go
    Yet I am grateful for the chance to see
    And to change the things that were done to me
    And I
    Mind regretting
    Time unletting
    Striving
    Struggling
    Seeing
    And trying to mend
    Cannot start all over again
    But I can move on
    Past the street
    The sidewalks and streetlights
    And light poles
    And late nights
    The big trucks
    And loud music
    The method of
    And how you use it
    Blindness and shallowness
    The need to make things
    Who you are
    The continual spar
    And scarring
    All held to cover
    The unrest that lies beneath
    Hanging out in doorways
    Facing toward the street
    Empty empty souls
    Who haven’t realized
    Who still don’t know
    The lifelessness they breed inside of them

    I can surpass all of that
    And I’m going to.
    I’ll let all that go.

    And I don’t see you anymore
    The further I get
    From that shore
    From yours
    The more I evolve you stay
    Just like every other person with that name
    Everyone who ever played that game
    And I knew I never was the same
    I knew it wasn’t for me to play
    Even though I tried it anyways
    Everyday

    And some time I won’t see you ever again
    But I will teach my children about you
    And teach them to stay away
    And pray
    That I do it right
    So their mess doesn’t ever look like mine
    Because I am certain they will have one
    I just long for it to be
    Somewhat more healed
    A step
    If even one

    That they will never have to feel you
    Or deal with you inside of them
    Locked away in that special cove
    Deep dark special place in the heart

    And when I think about you now
    Along with others that worked their way in somehow
    (Although none as deep as you)
    I can only comfort myself with these thoughts
    And the surety that someday death will release me
    And perhaps then
    I can be in love again.

    Poem Comments

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    devaamido commented on Billy

    06-20-2009

    Yep! I can certainly empathize with this one. You'll heal, but it will take time & work. Bleesings!

    sweetlips commented on Billy

    03-22-2009

    i HAD A BILLY IN MY LIFE AND I CAN RELATE TO THIS WRITING AND IT IS VERY GOOD

    dahlusion commented on Billy

    02-15-2009

    This is more of a confessional letter to "Billy" than a poem: I trust you have sent it to him. He deserves this read. But, regret is uselessly spent energy: do not regret, rejoice in the future.

    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

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