{random poetry #75}

*by Poindexter


It was rather beautiful:
the way he put her insecurities to sleep.
The way he dove into her eyes and starved all the fears
and tasted all the dreams she kept coiled beneath her bones.


I admit,
I was afraid
to love.
Not just love,
but to love her.
For she was a stunning
mystery. She carried things
deep inside her that no one
has yet to understand,
and I,
I was afraid to fail,
like the others.

She was the ocean
and i was just a boy
who loved the waves
but was completely
terrified to


Know this and know it
more than you’ve ever
bothered to understand
anything before: I am,
as lonely as they come.
As empty as they make them.
There is a reason my liver
is filled with whiskey.
A cloaked rhyme to why my
lungs have fallen in love
with smoke.
I am lonely.
But I have come to the
conclusion that loneliness,
no matter how often it weighs
the soul, is sometimes,
a beautiful thing.

Poindexter, C.