Mathew Lewis Poems

How serene the night is now,
No heartache knows its place,
No breath of disquietened air
Passes overhead.
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Trust all your innocence
To things I can’t stand to hear.
Mark what’s inside of us
By all that you’ve ever feared.
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I have a confession to make:
I haven't been sober in seventeen days,
It’s not a thing that I can explain,
It’s just a thing that eliminates pain.
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Like a trembling tot
on the night of christmas eve
a poet waits.
Knowing the magic of the night
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Life is like a cigarette,
Smoke it to the end,
That is all I have to say
To you my friend.
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After a while it’s just narcissistic!
Isn’t it?
All this time spent
Hoping to receive a few lines
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Decant me an elixir
Distilled from aching heartstrings.
At least ten years matured
In a barrel made from dreams.
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A pivot poised in total perfection,
A red leather heal on a wooden park bench,
The glimmer of that which drips of high fashion
Made odd by where it now rests.
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So here I sit on a cold winters night,
With pen and page,
And no idea of what to write.
How do you say ‘I love you’
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You and I are victims of love’s greatest tragedy
And its greatest truth:
That life moved on without us,
And time forgot us in our youth.
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