POEM: Drinking My Wishful Thinking by Chasey Delaney
14 May 2025 - includes Chasey's audio recording reciting this poem!
NOTE: A BIT CLUNKY LIKE MY HEART’S GRIPES ON OUR LOVE LIFE <3 X
Just about getting back interested in preparing, composing ‘‘poems’’ - not my strong suit at the moment I admit. BEST wishes, Chasey !! x
The cartilage of love is wearing thin
As irritated by his smile as of his rage
Introspection sabotages hours of days
Gnawing away at my brain about how
To get what I desire there has to be
Sacrifice alas it's the other way round
I crave peace because of his chaos
I demand space between us as his
Soul suffocates my equilibrium
I wish for happier moments however
Fleeting however minor however dull
Everything I ever wanted is in front
Of me holding his fist to my face and
A rope to my throat so those dreams
Become the sacrifice and without him
They become void. How can I know?
Peace morphs to boredom when alone
Happiness is seldom in the brightest joy
Whenever he is not around
Space becomes an unlocked cage - and
I miss the chains of his soul I am still
Tied to - everything changes alone.
I don’t believe or aim to or even try to
Change the universe that I’m in love with
His glittery eyes from years of drink
Foam the corners of his milkyway mouth
Twinkling fizzing stars and constellations
Spread out between time and dimensions
Where missing conversations rain hard soap
We both cleanse ourselves in the wisdom of
Old both lost in our ancestral homes
He asks me do I still love him and I say no
Lying like I was lied to about hope long ago
my body is a gaslight beacon grassing me
Up with unspoken truth. I love you it whispers
But bad blood still boils between us in sleep
On pillows dripping with dreams etching heads
Closer together - manufactured cuddles in bed.
Like love was produced from a black hole dune
I am lost in the longing to grow old gracefully
He is mourning his sorrows and remaking pain
I drink from his poisoned chalice - connected
Most with those of the aged and ancients souls
He despised his visible demise and can’t wait to die
Sliding us both down the same wasted life sluice
I'm nourished - a relic of a forgotten love's hungry wife
He thirsts upon a dried up faucet pouring himself
into the bottom of his fountain of youth like a well
of good fortune he loses more than he takes risks
the gamble if unspoken truth remains....
do we continue.?
Drinking My Wishful Thinking
by Chasey Delaney
14 MAY 2025
Thank you for reading and sharing if you think someone else might enjoy it too! x