Bare existence, a poem by Tabatha

Pick at me to death,

Judge my ever word, every move.

You got me all wrong,

You don’t see who I am.

Misconceptions of every kind,

You stab at me with your eyes.

I cry into a muffled night,

Darkness consumes my heart.

Lying here to die,

For an injustice of your mind.

I’m too stealthy, too quick.

My words cut your conscience

Like a hot blade on ice.

Can’t take these words back,

I never meant to make you cry.

It’s brutal honesty,

In the rawest form.

Now I rot here forever

Caged, naked..

My mind raped and scarcely breathing.

Let me out , let me be me.

You have the damn key.

(C) Tabatha Goughneour 2008

Absence, a poem by Tabatha

The cold covers like a blanket,

Your warmth an inviting embrace.

A tear burns as it simmers my cheek.

Your presence beside me: heavenly.

I don’t love you just for who you are,

But who I am when I am with you.

Death reaches across the room to put me in its horrific grip.

You are there to make me believe,

With you I want to be better.

You see what no one sees,

You have found the good in me.

Your absence how it tears me apart.

My heart lies within your hands,

My head level with the ground.

I spit up blood, cough up dirt

While you let me wonder.

Where did you go?

Was this ever real?

I can’t see anything but darkness,

I know you are my light.

Your face is all I want to see,

Feeling your arms around me

Such a tempting little treat

To make me rise above my fall.

You had your chance to stay,

You left and pronounced your love.

Why must I then lie in darkness,

My only light distinguished by tears

And my fears escaping my body

Are there for you to trap.

Breathe life into me,

Don’t leave me like this.

Find me or I’m gone forever to sea.

Written after my first big heartbreak 2008.

(C) Tabatha Goughneour

Stay here (Part II), a TBT poem by Tabatha

If I told you I love you

Would it change it all?

Am I so wrong to want to make it work?

Am I fighting for a lost cause?

Your tears shouldn’t be falling,

I should be there to wipe them away.

So sick of the distance, the absence,

Hearing your voice through the answering machine.

I’m so lost without your hands to guide me.

My hands are so cold,

They need to be wrapped with yours.

I’m beating myself up over this,

My heart is so bruised

You are healing all the while.

What if I loved you?

Would it bring us back?

Or would it make it worse?

Tell me the truth

Written in 2008, at the end of my first engagement.

(C) Tabatha Goughneour

Don’t go (Part I), a TBT poem by Tabatha

Don’t let go of me yet,

I don’t want to go right now

Not like this, not like this.

Please don’t cry those tears,

I have plenty of my own-

Here on my shirt so softly they fall.

We both knew this day would arrive,

Yet the time went by so fast.

Hold me like it was yesterday

And like we had forever,

And like we had forever.

Kiss me with those lips full of passion

And hold my hand tightly.

The distance will be hard,

But I know we can make it.

I love you , you love me.

We part as the bell rings.

I walk away and I see you cry.

I never wanted to say goodbye,

Yet it’s all I can do.

Written on the last day before departing for Basic training with the Navy 2005

(C) Tabatha Goughneour 2005

Alone with my thoughts, a poem by Tabatha

Here I sit alone with my thoughts.

Pen to paper,

Marking the naked pages with my kind of ink.

Fresh white pages calling to me to get out my ink pen and embark on a new sleeve.

The tattoos of my soul,

A few layers deep,

Break through my skin like a ripe apple.

I take a juicy bite,

Let the ink filled juices run down my chin.

While licking my lips,

Letting the taste smother my senses,

I taste a hint of blood, tears and something else that I can’t place.

Must be hope.

I taste them all willingly while ink fills the pages.

Inviting my taste buds to wake,

I take another bite, missing the apple entirely.

Must be love.

I wipe away the beads of blood from my lip, remembering the taste so well.

Swig of red wine beside me, calms the memories.

Turning the next page, the smell of my fresh journal intoxicates me.

I must make my mark.

Let the wet ink of my soul dry and become therapy for my mind.

I dive in, naked and only slightly afraid.

These thoughts are mine,

My private getaway.

My tranquil darkness that illuminates the black hole of the world.

Marking these pages til my fingers hurt,

Keeps my healing in place and gives me a voice.

One that must be shared with this world,

As I sit alone with my thoughts.

(C) Tabatha Goughneour 2019