D. B. DEVILLIERS

Poetry

Tag: love

Ten And Eight Tenths Of A Mile, 84 Westbound

There are words I imagine
I imagine
for when your life explodes without
much warning
there’s the sudden ice storm the rain which
freezes damn near instantaneously upon the asphalt and at
sixty miles per hour of course
there’s the old spin there’s the old hello the
passing semis
a hundred yards back
what can you do
hold steady touch neither the gas nor the brake
my father taught me well
and the embankment was conveniently leniently inclined
and the center of gravity in a small cheap commuter car is
thankfully low for the rapid lateral transition of traction
there are words
there must be words for when four seconds feel like forty
there must be words for when you nearly kill
yourself and two of your best friends
there are too many things are happening all at once
but I got me two options
and I intend to take the
harder one.

Stock Images

where upon this shore will we wash up
kill my loneliness and I’ll kill yours
there we’ll be til we tire and finally retire
and wake and wake and wake and there
we’ll be upon the shore
shipwrecked stranded on a highly populous island
stare if you’d like
aspirants alpha and omega
sign your name in his book and we’ll
wake up on the shore with
things to say
I was born in love
it was everything else that did it.

The Author vs. The Protagonist’s One True Wonderful Idealized Love

What a wonderful pretty thing you are
and oh it hurts it hurts
I’d like for you to do such terrible things to me
and I to you
such nice and terrible things
shame I’m so far away from this everything
scene in the movie cuts soundtrack to tinnitus white noise ring
protagonist gazes about him at people continuing
conversations he cannot hear
blurred perimeter
good looking people smile very white smiles
laugh surely very honest laughs if we could hear them over the
riiiiiiiiiinggggg
left right pan
where the fuck am I
who the fuck are these people
where are they
who the fuck am I
and you you electric master of all creation
though I carry all the weight and merit of the protagonist
and the author
I cannot speak to you
or will I ever
any longer
or ever
you’re too too
words fail.

If I Liked Me Better I Bet I Wouldn’t Write So Much

I want to be loved so bad
and I am
let it be enough
and I want to be liked so bad
and I am
let it be enough
I just don’t know why anyone would
let me be enough
let me really believe it
I don’t know why anyone would
and maybe I can be something more than confused
and maybe then my father won’t have to take some sunny day to
bury me
maybe we’re all gonna go to college and we’re
all gonna be doctors and lawyers and we’re
all gonna die real slow and by the time we
get to the heaven we dreamed about as kids we’re
all too busted up and broken to recognize it
and anyway I guess it isn’t really there so that’s a
silly line of reasoning
if you get to live long enough do you get to reimagine it
I hope I hope I really really hope I
really really hope so
thanks god that’s all I’ve got.

 

Personal note: things are much improving.

 

Strength

Of course
you can give your heart to
someone else, but it’s a heavy
thing—
if you cannot bear it yourself,
how could you justify forcing it upon another?
How could you force a person
to carry your cross
in addition to his own?
It’s better, I think
to instead grow
stronger.

Learn to love yourself.

Thoughts of You

I didn’t think of you when my eyes went wide
when the buzz began and I was brushing
residue from my stubbly, sleep-deprived face
when the sky was brilliant blue
and the summer air felt fresh on my bare knees
but I thought of you later.
I thought of you as I crashed hard
when the liquor which came for free
returned to take its toll on my weary mind
because you aren’t the rush, the buzz, the high.
You are the dread crash and comedown
when the drugs have run out, much like you did
and you come to fill that vacant void
from somewhere across the wastes of time and space
but you’re a ghost, and these thoughts occupy me
like water poured into an endless pit
left me wanting always more
and never receiving.

I thought of you then.

Kingdom of Ruin

I was a city surrounded
by colossal walls of
stone and masonry,
impervious to attack,
built when battles past
left me crumbling
but then,
you appeared on the horizon
and approached my gates
and I couldn’t turn you away.

I didn’t understand
the mistake I’d made
until I was burnt down,
when my city had already been
razed to the ground,
and you passed by the gates
never to return
again.

What remains of me
wanders these ashes,
the flames long faded,
the ruin gone cold
and I long for you.
The walls still stand
blackened but intact
defending my domain
from an enemy who’ll never again
attack.

As days become years,
I’ve come to realize
a hard, bitter truth
that I hide with false pride:
if you appeared at my gates
ever again
I’d raise them for you
and welcome you inside
to my kingdom of ruin
my dominion of dust.

I wrote this one maybe a year ago about a particularly nasty breakup. Those emotions have by now mostly faded into oblivion, of course, but I still enjoy the poem quite a lot.

In Spite of Prudent Advice

If you insist upon loving me
against good advice and
for reasons I won’t pretend to understand
then, before you invest yourself in me,
I feel compelled to elucidate the reasons
for which I gave that advice—
you see, I’m quite crazy
and not in the way that most people call themselves crazy.
No, I’m really nuts,
and because of that, I’ve been known
to routinely make irrational decisions
with flagrant disregard
for whatever consequences might follow.
I’m cripplingly inconsistent
which, I am told
makes for a poor financial investment
and an even poorer emotional one.

Simply put, given past behavior,
I’ll likely continue to make
frequent and terrible mistakes
so understand that, if you choose to love me
I very well might
spurn reason and objective thought
and make some short-sighted, careless decision;
I might well eventually do
something rash and awful,
something that would doubtless leave
an irreparable crack in that mechanism by which
you and I both connect with others
and derive happiness from those connections.

To speak plainly—
if you end up loving me
odds are I’ll do something reckless and damaging
something that cannot be undone
something we’ll both regret
for a long, long time:

I might love you back.

Turn Around and Walk Quickly Away

If you’re going to love me,

don’t.

Honestly

You asked for the truth
and I don’t think that’s what
you’re hoping to hear
but I’ll tell it anyway.

It’s true–
living is so profoundly
difficult
and death probably isn’t much easier
but we’re alive, for now
and we’ll die someday
and everyone else will, too
and truthfully I couldn’t tell you whether
I’m in love with you or not
or even what love feels like
but I don’t care.
If this isn’t it, then I’d die happy
having never loved at all
because I don’t ever want to feel anything
except for the way I feel
right now.

If that’s not love
it’s goddamn close enough.