surreal poetry
Surrealist poetry embodies the essence of poetry itself, drawing upon shocking imagery and lyrical incongruities to comment on the inner-workings of the mind.
Recalibration
I loved you to death. I smothered you with remarks of kindness. I gave you what you did not need and expected it to be reciprocated. I overstepped boundaries while never enforcing my own. You couldn't breathe without me asphyxiating you with my presence. There was a massive fear of being without you that I somehow overcame. It took sudden clarity and passive time to announce my departure. I refused the expiration date for our relationship but anxiety could not be the band aid for our separate and invisible wounds. My intuition sense this would all collapse with you mimicking sand, slipping through my desperate fingers. It was so fragile that love itself could not sustain it. Something so precious living on borrowed time. I'll never be sure if you couldn't or just wouldn't. Whether you lacked the capacity or the desire to see this through. I've allowed myself permission to grieve for what never was going to be. Your autonomy was more important than my stability. Both could not occur while we were in close proximity. I wanted to create a safe space for you but you chose your freedom instead. You were the wind that couldn't be captured for fear it would lose itself in commitment limbo. Regulating me would have a cruel punishment for you. You could hardly regulate yourself. I'll mourn the intimacy that threatened your composure. You cannot give beyond your own limits though I lowered my standards for you. I thought that's what love wanted from me. To accept what little I could receive and be happy with the results. As long as you could call yourself mine, we were fine. I was the time you could spare but you couldn't afford more. Devotion is not enough if it only suffocated you. I used my loyalty as a way to suppress you and I didn't realize it. I can't choose someone who could not choose me. You were dizzy with vertigo because I demanded more than you could deliver. If I loved you enough, everything would have worked out in the end. I couldn't be myself around you. The chase is what drew me in but you only kept escaping. This rejection has to become unstitched. The haze has been lifted. The fog of inconsistency has evaporated. You weren't perfect though I brainwashed myself into believing you were. I'm still taking the blame for all of our faults. It was the end of the world for a while. You squandered me and you took me for granted. Why didn't you want me when you had me? We couldn't find the right direction together. I couldn't take the blinders from off my eyes. You took matters into your hands and decided for the both of us. I was quietly discarded because our harmony turned cacophonous. My arms are exhausted from pointing the finger at you for the fallout I alone am experiencing. I loved you to bittersweet death. You created this rift, this great divide. I cannot cross and join you on the other side because you chose not to be mine. You were never mine. The universe knows I tried.
By Anna Torres3 months ago in Poets
Malibu, 1992
Intro In 1992, Malibu held a kind of light that felt endless. Restoring this old photo opened a doorway back to the woman I was then barefoot, sun warmed, and standing at a shoreline that shaped me. The ocean, the sky, the ease of that day all came rushing back. This poem is a return to that moment, to the version of me the Pacific held, and to the infinity that still lives in the tide.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 3 months ago in Poets
