B Scott

This poem is super hyper important to me. Stylistically, it's completely different from anything I've ever attempted, but to an effect that I can thoroughly appreciate. Also it marks the first time I've taken a direct narrative from my life and turned it into a poem. This denotes a situation that happened about a week ago and something that I've been dwelling on and contemplating every moment I've been awake since. I've never been happier with something I've written - and I'm starting to truly understand what they mean when they say writers write from what they know. It's called "And I"

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That siren song would have killed me if you had my same heart
But my weaknesses are my own.
The velvet-smooth, deceptive tongue dances
And as I lean in, I falter; I shudder; I repress.
My own iron fist closes around the corners of my lips
And I tie myself to the tracks again.

That night, my mind was aflame and reality blurred,
Like my reflection in that pane of glass
Whose frame was constructed through my twisted thoughts
And whose only limitation was my ability to define reality.
The rain fell on me, corrosive,
Smearing my perceptions of who I was and where I was headed.
I saw that train coming closer and I threw away the key.

And I'm sorry for being such a prick,
And I'm sorry that nothing anyone ever tells me ever seems to stick.
And I just want to lie like this and wait for that first kiss
That will also be my last.

That siren song would have killed me if you had my same heart,
But my weaknesses are my own.