Another Fly on the Wall: 2012

Friday, November 9, 2012

It Leaked Out

Things That Go Bump in the Night

I thought it was something to be scared of

Then I realized what that sound was.

My heart is now in the glass trophy case

With a hard, stony middle and shiny, bronze base.

It doesn’t get to hit the floor

When I roll over anymore.

I can sleep with all the other strange sounds

That choose the dark time to make their rounds.

I can no longer hear nor feel the quake

That my heart breaking seems to make.

Thursday, November 8, 2012

Change

Recycled

Feeling things I no longer wanted to feel,

Bombarding a heart that’d been locked down.

As if the keys to my most inner sanctum

Were freely being passed around.

But this time, I’m ready to be open to visitors.

Although, there’s only ever room for just one.

Instead of trying to hold and keep you here,

I just ask you leave the keys if, or when, you’re done.

I’ve truly retired my running shoes,

My emotions, too tired to chase anyway.

This time, I’ll let you come to me.

For the sun brought with it a new day.

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

H.C.

Human Consumption

Let me taste you.

I need to feel you

Sliding down the inside of me.

Can we make that arrangement?

Do you think it’s too much, too soon?

Because I can try to hold back

Just stay silent while I swoon.

But I just need to touch you.

Curl up beside you and feel you.

I need to experience you.

Cuz even if I don’t get to keep you,

I need you to be buried

beneath my skin

again and again,

Even for the briefest of moments,

Pretending you are tilling my soil.

I need you to dig deep.

Turn my earth til you find the moist dirt.

Submerge your fingers.

Press them into my skin until I have

Reminders of what you found in my

Hollowed out caves and

Underwater caverns.

Show me proof that you did not drown,

That you weren’t overwhelmed by the

Pure, unadulterated depths that steal breath.

Prove to me that I can swallow you whole

And you’ll still be all I need.

Confessions

Confessions Pt 1

I know if I told you how I felt,

You’d say, “Damn girl, you crazy.”

And if you knew your voice makes me melt

Would you still let me call you baby?

See, I sit and ponder when things get chill

Sometimes I even gyrate around the room

Looks like I’m doin’ my rendition of “How Does It Feel”

And like I’m tryin’ my best to make you cum too soon.

My hips wind and dip to the silent music playing

My body rolls like heavy thunder before the storm

I bite my lips in anticipation of the words you’d be saying

I start imagining scenes dirtier than your secret porn.

Then I open my eyes and remember my place

At least I waited until no witnesses were around

And you seem to know I was thinkin’ ‘bout you cuz your face

Finds its way to my phone as your ringtone starts to sound.

Friday, September 21, 2012

Was In The Mood To Write

Like Honey

Golden like honey,

She shone in the sun.

Looked like hardened whiskey.

Almost the color of sap.

Holding my gaze long,

Unable to break the invisible

String that linked my eyes.

I had to watch her.

So thick with sweetness,

Her aroma drifted my way.

Had me looking around for

A beehive ready for harvest.

My lungs involuntarily inhaled

As if I had never experienced

The most intoxicating scent ‘til now.

Let me just breathe her in.

Soft and almost moldable

Her flesh gave way to my embrace.

Skin feeling like it had been

Covered and caressed with silk.

Drew my fingertips close

Like the allure of the curves

Of a brand new Bentley.

I wanted to hold her longer.

Liquid sugar on my mouth

As I kissed her cheek politely.

Closed my eyes to enhance the

Savory splendor that remained.

Had to run my tongue over

My lips to commit that

Flavor to memory.

I ached to lick her all over.

Her smile spoke a million

Silent words like a melody.

It sang not only to my heart,

But to all the cells in my body.

Bobbing my head as if I were

At a lounge and the sax crooned

And calmed my inner turmoil.

I could listen to her quiet for hours.

But to know her was not to

See her,

Smell her,

Touch her,

Taste her,

Or hear her.

For that, I had to ask

The bees.

On The Down Beat

The music comes on.

Just before dawn.

The clothes come off.

No need for the cloth.

You get turned on fast

Thinking about the past.

When he twists and turns you around

You let out one of those familiar sounds

Up on all fours, glad you just took a bath,

Your eyes roll as you remember your math

Noting each of the eight beats to a bar

Losing count as his tongue reaches far.

This part you don’t have to remember

’Cause he’s only ever gone ’til November.

That cut buddy that always has a pass

’Cause his handprints look just right on your ass.

You get that old thing back time and time again.

Throwin’ it back on him while he pushes it in.

Never having to remind him that you like it hard

He sips the milkshake that brings boys to the yard.

And it’s never mattered, the temperature of the heat,

He has always known to stroke on the down beat.

Monday, September 17, 2012

He She Him

She looked into his loving eyes

To see a reflection of a glorious self

He idolized her; called her Queen

He simply loved her, despite her shortcomings

But did he realize, recognize?

Could he see but not identify?

She adored him.

He was all she had ever wanted

He supported her ventures

He was emotionally there and fully engaged

Communication wasn't lost on him

No hiding emotions or taking hers for granted.

With him, it was simply unheard of

He loved her and that was that.

But...

She knew from past experiences

One can never love enough for two

Guilt was no substitute for love either

He was worth more than that

The butterflies in her stomach had turned

To moths feasting on her already tattered soul

She laid her head on his chest

Listening to his heartbeats spell her name

A tear escaped as her spirit flew to answer

The rhythmic melody tugging at her soul

She was supposed to answer and

Her heart should be singing the harmony

His heart song was never accompanied

She called for him and that was that.

But...

When she dreamed of her future,

He stood there embracing her dreams

They would live happily ever after

A storybook romance of how hearts could mend

From shattered brokeness and pain

Came the most miraculous mosaic pieces

She looked into her lover's eyes

He stared at her like she was the only woman alive

Her tearful sorrow told him she knew he was one of many

The worst part about it all was the deception

He tried to love her from soul to heart

However, her heart had filled its quota

He only had eyes for her

She only had passion for him

But...

He and him were not the same.

Copyright © 2012 Natasha Guy

Thursday, July 26, 2012

Clogged Filters

They say when you can’t find the words, someone else has already uttered them somewhere…usually in a song. When communication gets rough and you can’t get past your own emotions to hear what someone is saying, ask him/her to put it all in a song. Many times, a song will reach that guarded place and explode within the brick walls built for protection. When that happens, you feel it. Whether you are fighting the feeling or not; whether you’ll ever admit to it or not, you know exactly what he/she is feeling when you hear that song.

So many filters exist between your heart and your mouth. They stem from the brain, past hurts, scar tissue, millions of different origins, but they all reside right there, between your heart and mouth. That’s why someone else’s unfiltered words are needed sometimes; to say what you want to say, but what your filters won’t let pass. If you love someone and are afraid to say it, afraid of rejection…then that little song that you play and think of them will do just fine. Send the file to their phone or their email. Tweet it at them, post it on their FaceBook wall, hell, call and leave it on the voice mail if you have to. But don’t run or hide from what you feel. Don’t let fear or pride stand in the way of what you really want.

Above all, let honesty sit out there and plead your case. Whether you want someone to understand how much you love them, or how much they hurt you, or how angry you are…put it out there. Nothing can change if you never say anything about the problem. And it will continue to be a problem, but only for you, if you keep it hidden in the shadows. But beware, once you put it out there, you probably won’t be able to sweep it back under the rug. At the very least, there will be a very large and overbearing elephant in the room. Once the tiger is out of the cage, tame it. Talk about it reasonably and actively listen to responses without being defensive.

Is any of that easy? Hell no! Is any of that possible? Absolutely! It takes courage and it takes love. It takes wanting to change things for the better. The better may not be your intended, expected, or desired outcome, but things will change. Change is rarely easy, but it doesn’t always have to be traumatic. That being said; go out and live and love, staring it all in the face with a brave countenance.

Just Another Poem

Fault Lines

You didn’t speed off in a getaway car,

But you ran like hell all the same.

You left lame justifications on the bar,

I thought sugared glasses would soothe the pain.

I was wrong.

You fled after you laid the blame in my lap,

Called me cold hearted, unwilling to be loved.

My face turned red, angered by the hard slap

Delivered by your hand wearing a soft glove.

You were wrong.

I told you that you would be the one to leave.

You said love doesn’t hurt, so I took you at your word.

I knew at the start, I would wind up the one to grieve,

I felt the crack in my heart before it was ever heard.

I wasn’t wrong.

My faults outweighed any love I offered you.

I know myself well, but you had yet to see.

When your eyes were finally opened, you came unglued.

Now you still can’t admit that you’re leaving me.

It was all wrong.

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

1st Shared Poem This Year

In The End

When apologies fall on ears of deaf corpses,

One has to wonder why the dead are still in bed.

How long have you been whispering sweet nothings

Into empty vessels and petrified remains?

Furthermore, have you committed necrophilia?

Were you so used to receiving no response

That you got off on a once warm body, now cold

And had yet to realize the eyes were vacant?

And now the final decision has got to be made

How does one properly dispose of the rotting flesh?

Is there a testament that leaves directions for the fallen?

Is it to be followed since they’ve been gone for so long?

Enter stage right, the guilt and the shame

Clad in tears and sorrow and if-I-had-only-knowns

They play their parts as if they were life-long roles.

Perhaps they had always been waiting in the wings.

Your tears are worthless, for waste water cleanses nothing.

The only one who could give them value has gone away.

You lie next to the stench of death, pretending you smell roses

And when you turn for a kiss, the mirror welcomes you home.