Cydniey Buffers (cydniey) wrote,
Cydniey Buffers


oh the memories you bring back
the first person to know me
the first to write of my passion
and i had so much passion for you
i needed you
you seemed always to understand
or at least convinve me you did
and here we start anew
with each other's teen indiscretions
somewhere in the backs of our minds
to ask you the truth is to
remove another brick from my shoulders
now i sit at the pub
a cocktail or two to distance
and i can think of you
any affectionate thoughts of you
come to me with a smile and
none of the telltale guilt
there is a detiny we never met
a possible future we never explored
and it it's meant to happen
i know it will when the time is right
and we wont leave so many victimes behind
i carry a love for you that never faded
but it is not all consuming
not like it was back then, it's
a comfortable feeling
a fleeting scent on the wind
i remember the time i visited
i found out how easy T was to talk to
and how easily i get drunk
and how i am a melodramatic drunk
i remember begging at the end of the night
begging you to touch me kiss me
make me feel real for tha moment
and you wouldn't
and though i pouted and whined
i never respected you more than that moment
i kept all your letters i could
they tell a story of a part of my life
i can't get to in my memory on my own
he kept all the hate mail i ever sent him
and returned it all to me in a bath and bodyworks bag
i haven't read them
trying to piece together just what went down then
i remember maybe too many furtive moments
and i always have
they are happy things
to hold onto and stop me
wanting to relive them
they are more than enough
these tender memories of you.

fukken semantics

got to let the words out
or they rattle around my brain
scrambling themselves and
generally interfering with me
and sometimes i don't want
to share them with anyone
maybe not yet
maybe not ever
because its none of theri business
and how would i know?
i used to be the empress
of too much information
sometimes its a concious thing
to be an enigma, and
not always based in precociousness
in the world today its
best to know when to shut the fuck up
especially when it's whats in
my head are these epic monologues
of no import to most people i meet
these things are like a soup
eventually either ladeled out
in these smaller pieces or
it melts through my skull
and burns the shit out of me
we've all said it once,
i don't write because i want to
i write because i have to
i could map out warped metaphors like this
every day and still not
find my soup pot empty
though i try to delay them
give them time to cook
give me time for a bit of distance
maybe a look at a global map
or some digital photograph
sometimes it just isn't safe to let it
all out at once, you aren't
the only ones i can scare with
this shite, i'm always mostly terrified
sometimes i am quiet because
i know, i can't explain, but i know
if i open my mouth i will start
screaming and i may not stop
Tags: poetry

  • dry hot and dusty as hell

    My last surviving grand parent died a couple of weeks ago. Two days to the hour o my Nana's death, my favorite cat, Boo, died in my arms. The grief…

  • Hey there, hi there, ho there

    I'm back, bitches and bastards, TC paid for a forever pass, I should use it. The cops came over and did a welfare check about a month ago. My…

  • Got Caught Stealing

    Having had yet another clever thing stolen by a bunch of what I have to assume are white middle aged hate macines; The line in my twitter profile…

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.