My Poetry

Meeting the Family

We finished the bottle of Bombay Sapphire while looking in the rearview at a St. louis skyline fading, until it soaked into the ground.

It’s not as romantic as it sounds. My re-lit cigarette burns between my fingers as I try to run over the memories I wish I could forget.

Nobody wants to believe that some people were born with malevolence in their blood.

Even when I hear the slam of a red hand in a door or see the stain myself, I justify, I play advocate and can never have enough proof.

To me it’s all duplicity and mastery. 

“Meeting the family”– by Kelley Stephens

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My Poetry

Imagined

I never knew you to be kind or what my name sounds like drenched in your pride.
I don’t know you to be gentle in your conversation and I’m starting to forget what your eyes look like in the morning.
You put me on a plane, handed me a one way ticket and my in flight refreshment was the hope that I can still taste, although now bitter and rotten. It’s amazing to me how one man can be so many things but never what you imagined.

-imagined by Kelley Stephens

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My Poetry, Uncategorized

Talk To You Soon

There will come a time I will ask you if I smell like death.
My life might have started to resemble ripped stitches.
Sometimes the world slaps me so hard it feels like I’ve been cut.
This is the reason I wear makeup so thick.
I vomit while laying on my back, the flies lay eggs in my mouth.
Maybe I will choke or my questioning of death will come out as a gurgle.
Suppose that’s the only way I can get you to answer.

 

-Talk To You Soon

by Kelley Stephens

 

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the_agony_of_the_fly_by_deathwish
mixed with
flies_on_a_wire__by_lithp

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My Poetry

Only We

Only We

By Kelley Stephens

 

My belly button comes unraveled,

your arms slide around me outstretched, wet;

I thought I was standing when you coded.

 

Surely your mind is repairing flat tires,

as Im enervated, my tears making stains on the ground.

 

Switching places with me behind patterned blue curtains,

while the sun is so proud of you; basking, you outshined,

the ice buried inside me is born from lost black diamonds.

 

To think in order to feel warm, I need to wear you,

then your sweat trickles down cool sapped images of time.

 

Getting ready to leave, putting on your shirt,

Dressing myself, feeling flush as you touch my neck,

I smell your scent and I unquestionably begin to melt.

 

Laying there dreaming that your touch might,

again melt inside my icy belly, thawing love.

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My Poetry

Meet Me At The Park

Meet Me At The Park

Kelley Stephens

 

I search the wind for traces of you.

Hoping you’ll get lost in a breeze.

 

Under this midnight sky let me feel you.

I fear I have become so vacant and hollow.

 

Alone never did look good on me.

Always adhering to a strict schedule.

 

Walking our neighborhood tonight.

Starring at the stars I contemplate a truce.

Because hell is walking along side your ghost.

 

All alone still hoping that some evening,

I will catch your scent; pick you from the grass,

and wear you in my hair like a hot summer

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My Poetry

Shameless

“I have lost all my pride,
and for having no shame,
I really do feel so heavy today.” -Kelley Stephens (Random thought)

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Today I allowed myself to laugh.  Really genuinely laugh.  It was the strangest feeling, so much so that it almost felt wrong in a million ways.

Then, that ridiculous song you like so much ended up being a part of the movie I was watching.  As two men fought over the one girl; intended to be funny, of course leave it to me to cry.  So, I did and continued all throughout the night.

Yesterday I begged you to listen.

I knew just what was coming.

Last week I begged for something different.

Pseudo comfort or a small commitment perhaps.

Last month I begged for something similar,

to hear me out or to hear you, simply say it.

Last month, I played the waiting game,

And last year the same.  Beg and wait.

Two years ago, you were sneaking around.

I begged to be seen and was drowned,

had a break down and broke down again,

we laid down, pinned down and for a while,

I thought we were becoming whole,

coming back home to unwind and settle in.

Two years ago, on this day, we did not speak.

Oh how things change.

And how I hate it.

Today I beg to spill into, one, single,

and not so devastatingly lonely place.

Does it bleed you to give?


Shameless by Kelley Stephens

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