I just read this poem on Sam’s blog, SAM I AM, and it touched me. I have seen my share of angsty teen poems written in the middle of the night while having a tantrum. This is not one of those poems. Sam, this is amazing.
“Recovery”- Original Poem
No light cannot shadow this; shit, I wish I could fathom this,
The loss, the life lens, the loneliness, is coming back into focus.
I miss this, I miss the night, I miss the warmth of you, and your light;
I miss your hair, touch of your skin, angles of your body, in you I’d swim.
Light and glass… cityscapes; iron beams, weight too hard to take;
Fall straight, drop to the streets; fucking played me, can’t let it repeat.
Cheap aspirin to ease headaches; pains in the day, can’t help but fixate.
Boxers, dirty socks, a broken mix tape, litter the floor when I come home late.
I feel like you feel, this is a mistake; but time is fucked-up, sleep won’t take.
Lost and directionless, it’s our chosen fate; this day, this life, is put at stake.
Reason with me, make this bed your throne; listen to your heart and the outside drone.
The AC is turned way too damn low, but your warmth radiates against my own.
Your hair smells like some sweet shampoo; your teeth taste like night; Listerine too.
I turn to you open, but still confused; let me wake you, I’ll be your muse.
I’ll be your anything, I’ll be the sea; come into my waters, come into me;
Come into my arms, come under the sheets; give into the stars, give into me.
Sun-bronzed skin, brown hair lightened up; I cannot give your beauty enough;
Your skin, it’s soft, it’s gentle too; but sadness left some scars, made wrists rough on you.
Trace those lines, put mine up against yours; more lines, more time, I’m not alone.
Your face is so undamaged; your mind has taken bullets but has managed
Shadows of darkness haven’t vanished yet; lay your body in my own, and under the moon rest.
Memories, sick to your stomach; perfectionism is a demon; throw holy water and yell fuck it.
Hold my hand, take all of my energy; take what light I own, I give everything from me.
Take my clothes, take all my money; I want you to have my life, so you can be happy.
This poem will stay with me. Hopefully I won’t have to pay royalties when I read it. Comment on here or on the original post.