BLOG 273: ‘Capes & Stilettos’

Guys, it’s been a long time since I sat down and actually put pen to paper, and tonight I finally did!

I can’t remember the last time I wrote a poem. And you know what? That makes me feel like shit. I used to blog on a daily basis, but life got in the way. And yes, life is important, but so is poetry – to me, anyway. I am a complicated person with a lot of emotions that I bottle up. I am an emotional bottle, okay? Poetry helps me process things.

I’ve been wanting to write this poem for a while now, and it gets to a point where it just comes bursting out like a form of rhyming vomit. So, here it is. Here is my vomit.

This piece is called ‘Capes & Stilettos’.

I hope you like it.


Capes & Stilettos

On a typical Saturday night,
your green eyes would hypnotise me beyond the stairs.
Now, I see an endless ocean,
and me drowning in the middle of nowhere.

It’s safe to say,
I think,
that the light in your eyes changed
through the bottom of my drink.

So, I avoid every beautifully dangerous thing about you.
For you, I have developed an anxiety-ridden love and hate.
Because you skip along the edge of cliffsides,
wearing stilettos and a cape.

And there’s a choice of falling or flying,
depending on your mood.
On a typical Saturday night, I could make you move,
away from the edge, for a better view.

On a typical Saturday night, you wouldn’t be self-destructive.
Instead you had enough fire to burn me from the inside out.
It would corrode, explode, unload a passion with the heat,
but you put out the flames when you left me in the sheets.

And like a typical Sunday morning,
I cling to the edge of the cliffside, praying I’ll see you again today,
hoping you’ll dance with me that same way,
where you bleed into me as I beg you to stay,
and to love me, and to never be afraid.

Darling, I’m tired of these beautiful mistakes.

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