Home » Poems » Matthew Bailey » That Was Not a Compliment

That Was Not a Compliment

Certain appearances make me question our fufillmentship 
I’d bet my life that I’d find more comfort in a rock bottom 
Than in you 
Your mood swings are my fill of thrills for the whole year 
I don’t talk crap, I just tell it how it is 
If you did nothing wrong, than you have no reason to fear 
So did you?
Well that's what we talk about when you’re not around 
That's what we talk about! 
When did resting become so exhausting?
It’s a mountain that we climb 
Just for the view to be splintered 
into a thousand blurry cotton lines 
Are those half-erased storm clouds 
Or my suicide note in the sky?
For what it’s worth,
My notion of time telling is what new corruption are we discussing today?
I’m scared to heal from the things I’ve relied on since my hire date 
He whispered but he might as well have screamed
Prolonging the pain like peeling skin off of blisters 
It’s an ever-twisting knife to see him disappointed  
No traces of any pieces of a heart, recently fractured  
You’d have better luck smashing diamonds 
You own folders full of legal notes but what commitments are you binding?
Your mind is a swamp of both creative and dilapidated ideas 
It's a lost and found without the finding 
You say you have a hat full of threats to throw
But I’ve seen hospice patients more inspiring 
Well that's what we talk about when you're not around 
You’re a mountain that I climb
Just for the view to be second guessed 
By the affliction warden with perfected sets of analytical eyes 
And there's no spinning this 
Like bottles pointing and kissing crushes just to say we're no longer innocent
And the bottom of glasses is where say you found your alleged happiness
But I wasn't lying when I said I’d do anything to get you out of this
If I'm not something to live for,  
Than you weren't reading in between the lines of a nobel prize winner of making sure 
And there's no shame in finding comfort hiding in the depths of a rock bottom 
Seasonal depressions kicking in but this is just how you feel 
Cause it's not even autumn 
At least the magnetic force between me and the floor 
Is keeping me warm and ready for winter
But i’m not dead, just afraid to move 
And my cries for help will soon fade into soft, solivagant whimpers 
If you crawled away,
You can crawl back
If you crawled away,
You can crawl back
Well I’m scared
I’m scared to heal from the things that make me who I am 
Mesmerized by an alarm clock, endlessly beeping
But we won’t know if it’s closer to ending than beginning 
Staring at the machine that onced silenced her 
One of the last and only things she told me,
It’s never too late to heal from open wounds that you’ve ignored 
Laying still with my misinterpreted whispers
But I’m not dead, just afraid to move
And I keep feeding God handfuls of my actions to disapprove 
If you crawled away,
You can crawl back
If you crawled away,
You can crawl back to me 
Is that the light of your phone flashlight or the light I think I’m headed to?

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.