A World You'd Never Believe

I never thought the stars could fall

Until I seen you  in the rain.

It was your smile that did me in

Now everyone knows that I’m insane.

I should have asked you for a dance,

Or at the very least your name.

Now my words are like cinder blocks,

Waiting to break again

I’m dancing though memories of you,

No tears tonight, everything will be alright.

Hold my hand and I’ll be there for you

I’ll kiss your cheek before I leave

In a world you’d never believe.

I wasn’t dying until you held my hand

Now I’m lost in your silver eyes—

Silver stars, the bright of night.

I never throught I was meant to be broken, 

Until you broke me the way I am.

Take away my breath, pretend to feel the same,

You’re a stack of paper and I’m a broken pen.

I’m dancing through memories of you,

No tears tonight, everything is alright.

Hold my hand and I’ll be there for you

I’ll kiss your cheek before I leave

In a world you’d never believe.

Hold my hand and I’ll be there for you,

A world you’d never believe.

      DannYetman
yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com/

You Shouldn't

This shouldn’t bother me but it does,

I think about it daily, it consumes me.

I should take the quick way home but I don’t.

I should tell you how I feel but I won’t,

I can’t speak my mind, well… Because of it.

My hands still shakes when I think of it—

Heart beats out of my chest until I feel weak.

My smile disappears and all the jokes cease.

In this moment I’m not ridiculous, I’m serious.

I don’t stammer but words are plain and few,

It shouldn’t bother me but it does,

I think about it daily, for better or worst.

       DannYetman

http://yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com/ 

Butterflies

My memories flutter through the sky like butterflies,

They die one by one, shredded as easily as paper—

Their colors are all that remain now; violet,

Indigo, and scarlet paintings resting on a stone walkway.

I watch one by one all my memories die,

Chapters of my life turning into vapor,

I never thought my life would come down to butterflies

Fluttering, fluttering though the sky.

You are just one, beating your wings,

When you die the rest shall survive—

Beating, beating their fragile limbs.

      DannYetman
http://yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com/ 

Down The Stairs

   I stare at the door well-rehearsed and ready to write the script to my own funeral. There could be anything on the other side: euphoria, everlasting bliss; my worst fear, regret. I swallow hard hoping the lump in my throat dissipates enough so I may soon conjure speech. My palms are sweaty and my heart is starting to sink; it seems like my sympathetic nervous system has been activated, fight or fight at its greatest.

   I’m dressed for the morgue, already assuming failure. Draped across my shoulders is the shirt I bought last week for seventy-five dollars in preparation for this moment. My hair keeps falling in front of my eyes, a sign that the gel is no longer keeping its hold. The smell of the gel mixes with the cologne I’m wearing and creates an overwhelming aroma that seems to systematically wake me from my state of disillusion.

   It’s time, I’ve stalled too long as it is. My hand grasps the silver door handle tightly and a phantom rattling can be heard, almost sounding like I’m trying to break into the room. I take a final breath in a feeble attempt to relax. Three minutes from now my life is going to take a sudden turn in one of two directions, the immaculate or probable.

   I swing the door open and take a step forward, momentarily forgetting to take my hand off of the handle until I’m met with resistance. Feeling foolish already, my hand drifts off the wooden surface and begins to push the door shut. It makes a clicking sound before closing completely. Without warning I’m instantly staring past her eyes; the monologue that I thought was flawless now seems mundane. My mouth opens but no sound comes out.

       DannYetman
http://yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com/

I Think Incorrectly

What if all my wants and desires

Contradicted everything you wanted?

Everything I think is wrong—

Every action is incorrect.

Would it be so farfetched to think

That I should act in the opposite manner

My brain tells me?

Surely I would be happier,

And you would be happier too,

If I did not think at all, never spoke.

How can somebody who never thinks

Possibly say what he shouldn’t?

He’d find a way.

         DannYetman

http://yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com/