It's been two months...
and I didn't find you worthy enough to pen into art,
but some of life's finest paintings caused us to shrivel
our nose and tilt our heads in confusion, wondering
how such a thing could be called "beautiful."
It wasn't until the orchestrated sound of rain hitting
the side of my house, playing like a song,
brought you immediately to mind.
I find myself now questioning all that ever was,
all that ever will be (between us) and I hate it.
I hate that you dropped me like a hot pan pulled
from the oven with no mitts, shattering all that
held me together. Not only that...
but you didn't even find me worthy of cleaning up.
What love was this then, that helped itself to
whatever it wanted and left without a goodbye?
There is only one thing that reveals itself true-
I was robbed of promises and you set hope
on a shelf just to take it as you burglarized me;
the person that housed devotion and a future.
I've allowed myself to wonder, for only a night,
Love, love love the opening two lines here. When we get hurt we often tell ourselves we deserve better, that the one who hurt us doesn't deserve our tears, or in this case our words. Very relate-able.
What I always love about Chelsey's work is that she includes similes and metaphors, ones that are rarely if ever used and makes them her own every time. It's always something fresh, new and something beautifully created.
The last two lines were heartbreaking and I found it to tie in perfectly with the opening two- you're allowing yourself to think about things, wonder what would or could have been and what the future will bring, but only for a short time because they're not worthy of anything more.
I've watched Chelsey grow over time with her writing and with every new poem she only gets better.
Lol... is this the similarity i see??? :p
i love the way you have penned this..
really, when someone comes and gives you hope and then leaves it really does destroy us and makes us hate them. initially, it is bitter anger that we feel but as time elapses, we realise its only hurt and pain. it wasn't ever answer, it was pain; pathetically drowning us into more and more terrible pain... but life goes on and we need to move out. And soon, it doesn't hurt anymore.
*Hope I'm thinking and seeing right about this poem of yours.
2 years ago
To use a Chelsism....
I so love this write, so freaking much, I always feel like i repeat myself when i comment on your poems but I can't help it, YET AGAIN your vocab on this piece is outstanding, you have such a unique style to your writing sometimes i love to read it to see wth you're gonna do next with a word lol
If i could steal one of your writing powers it would be your control over the reader, i was thinking that when i was reading Passer by, your like a hypnotist telling us how and when and what tempo to read what you pen perfectly - something i need to work on but you seem to do it efffortlessly.
If i broke this down i would be here for a year, your emotions are just poured out all over my screen but.....
"It wasn't until the orchestrated sound of rain hitting the side of my house, playing like a song, brought you immediately to mind"
^^^^^^^^^ This right here....UGH! so relatable in so many ways, those moments when eventually someone is out of mind and then BAM with out warning there they are with all the emotions welcome or not come bounding in our minds door.
Epic write, saved to favs, Nominated, your a poetry freak x
2 years ago
by Ben Pickard
The title of this intrigued me instantly and the poem didn't disappoint. I love the narrative style employed here - we are being walked through - very precisely - your thoughts and emotions.
......"just to take it as you burglarized me" - a very clever line. "burglarised" is not normally a word we associate with our emotions and I thought it was excellent here; unique.
Well done Chelsey on another very accomplished piece of writing and all the very best,