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Bailie Tilton Poem
He goes by the name of Lacrimosa
He is the plain picture of a man
Those who don’t know him see him as a monster
But you and I know better that he is a broken friend
His smile drips of sorrow
His walk is that of a footless ghost
And should you accept his outstretched hand
And succumb to the adoring nature of his gaze
He will lead you away to a dreary place
That he calls home
And the monster will sing sweet nothings to you
And hold you safely in his arms
And though the smile on his orchid face may weep for you
Do not be ungrateful, as it is for you
You can shudder and shake and claw to get away
But you need him as much as he needs you
This puppet man who hangs from a single string
Neck crooked and marbled and hanging to the side
Will frighten and disturb those who can’t see his face
But he will protect you from the ones who claim to love you dear
He’ll hold you close and wherever you go
He’ll be there by your side, his cold hand grasping your own
He’ll be everything you need so you’ll never be alone
He’ll share with you his tears and guilt and blame
And for these gifts he asks nothing in return
But your companionship and smile for only a small time
He knows you cannot stay forever by his side
So when you’re ready to say goodbye
He’ll let you go
And he’ll insist that you keep his gifts
But in time you may throw them away
And turn your back on the weeping thing
Who gave all he had in your time of need
And let his crying fade away
But don’t look back or you’ll see him there
Extending his hand, begging to hold you in his arms once more
And should you choose to return to him
He will always welcome you
And make a place for you by his side
And one day you may decide
To snuff out the man on a string
To throw the gifts he gave back in his blotched, orchid face
And run far far away
So that never again will you see his smile so grayed
Or feel the icy sting of his clammy embrace
Never again will you sigh in the arms of a love once held dearer
Now burdened whenever they look in the mirror
With the image of what they at one time feared
Of a sad smile painted on the picture of a man
Neck crooked and marbled and hung by a string
Dangling a smile loose to the side
Tears scarring his cheeks
His arms open wide
A monster posing as a broken friend
Who goes by the name of Lacrimosa
Copyright © Bailie Tilton | Year Posted 2015
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Details |
Bailie Tilton Poem
How brightly she glows all clothed in winter
As Springtime opens its limbs to hold her
It flourishes with life yet it is blind
To the gray of her face and the white on her shoulder
It cannot see the absence of green
In her tiny, pale, trembling frame
Still the sun smiles down so she lies on the ground
Willing her winter away
In the warmth she lingers and runs through her fingers
Blades of the grass and she ponders: Why, though tender
The heat of the Spring, though loving, though green
Does little to thaw or mend her
There she lies until agonized she cries
Her fingers burn, the fiery grass sears them
She desperately screams pleas for help to the Spring
But the Spring does nothing, for it cannot hear them
She fades away but the pain stays aflame
The gray of her face burnt blacker than cinder
The ashes she leaves cover the trees
Turning the Springtime white as winter
And the Spring now weeps and shrivels its leaves
It hardens and slowly grows colder
It mourns and swells and wishes like hell
That it had seen the white on her shoulder.
Copyright © Bailie Tilton | Year Posted 2015
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