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Best Poems Written by Tricia Campese

Below are the all-time best Tricia Campese poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Cigarette Love

Treat my love like a cigarette; let it creep inside of your throat and caress your lungs. Smoke my love till you're satisfied, and let my taste sit on your tongue.

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His Eyes

His eyes...
a walk through the forest, 
irises drowning in the sunlight.
I had never seen such sincerity in a person's eyes before,
until I met him. 
His eyes were trailed by his lips that widened in the most satisfying way,
displaying gleaming teeth. 
He was so pure,
so real...

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Just a Thought

Maybe I want to die today...
It's just a thought, a feeling.
My hands would never act on it.
But maybe my heart would
String a rope together with its veins
And stop beating for awhile. 
It needs a break, I'll admit that.

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Monsters

Help.
I hear monsters in my head. 
Shouldn't they be under my bed?

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Him

Of course I miss him.
Maybe not as much as I used to,
but I still find it hard to sleep at
night.
The feelings bury themselves into my stomach,
and ache until I move.
Sometimes they try to claw their way out,
up my throat.
But they're just feelings.
Abstract and invisible.
So they sit
And cement themselves into my bones.
And I wait until they go to sleep.
Then I can finally close my eyes.
Of course I miss him...

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My Home

I don't wanna go home.
		Its kind of lost its meaning.
Meaning I'm there without feeling.
		I wish I could call it something else.
A different name to match its essence,
		A person who could replace its presence.
In a sense.
		It's barely a house anymore,
Merely shelter from the weather.
		Anything would be better.
A man who lives off of his liver,
		And a woman who avoids it all night,
Out of mind, 
		Out of sight.
You feel me?
		I'm forced to be my own home,
Even when I'm in one, I'm alone.
		Forced to watch me kill myself with cigarettes.
If this house doesn't collapse 
		As I wait while his bottle uncaps,
Maybe the cigarettes will just kill me instead.

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My Medicine

I can see you're my medicine. 
You've already done more than my antidepressants could ever hope to do.

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A Boy With Her Heart

A broken muscle, pumps and slackens.
It's feeling dulled in her chest.
Lifts a hand up to feel it move,
But there's no sound beneath her breast.

The veiny parts have all been cut, 
A very clever trick.
He whispers, “if I can't be with her, 
I won't let her live.”

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We'Re Children

We're children confused by the alcohol we misuse.
We're children who can drive and work a job.
We swell our chests full of cigarette smoke, 
And yet we still play with our blocks.

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A Gun

They say kill the bad thoughts and feelings, but they're all concealed in your head? So,do you blow your brains out and hope that your scattered insides contain the impure thoughts?...purge yourself with a gun?...