Five Poems

by Donnie Williams

If Wishes Came True This is What I Would Do

I wish I were a painter.
If I could paint, I would mix together
all the tones of your amber eyes,
immortalizing their abilities
in canvas.

I wish I were a sculptor.
If I could sculpt, I would chisel
each sinew and muscle,
capturing in time the perfection of
your youth.

I wish I were a musician.
If I could create music
I would hide your name, your movements,
your laugh in melodies
of song.

But all I possess is the ability
to style my words into clever anecdotes.
All I am is a writer.
All I am is lowly
and powerful
because I have written about you
and that means you will live forever.


Your lies were like honey
sweet; they dripped from your lips
and l collected every drop with addicted ears.

Your lies were like chocolate
on a humid day,
I couldn’t lick them off my fingers fast enough.

Your lies were like almonds,
I picked up the perfect brown droplet
but I could never have just one.
I found myself always coming back for more.

I have seen lies drop like honey
off of lips
drip off of fingertips
I have seen lies I could grasp in handfuls.
I can show you fear in a handful of sweetness.


Here you stand
and I want to take you up in my arms
fold you into pieces small enough
to fit in the arteries flowing into my heart,
let your particular
poison seep into my veins.

I know you are wrong for me.
I know that this blackness
circling my stomach is
black butterflies
spouting gasoline coated wings.
You are a lit match
and I can’t allow you to get
this close

But I want you.
I know I am wrong
I am torturing the very essence of my rational self
I know this.
Yet still I love.

Write the Pain

Write the pain, they said.
As if with my pen I could
write it out of existence.

Write the way your chest rose and fell.
Write the way we rose and fell
like Troy, who let the deception in.

Write the way your eyes searched me.
Write the way your eyes danced
towards the sky
and I willed myself to dance along.

Write the way your arms held mine,
the way you flew and made me fly,
held my heart, my hope,
and dropped them both.

Write the way you said good bye. Write the way you said
I did…
I will…
I am…
But forgot to mention you always lied.

So now with each syllable
I’m going to take you, and make you famous.
You will become memes,
what you’ve done splayed across the inter-webs for eons,
If we survive that long

Never to be forgotten
they will set my words about you
before transcendent backgrounds of sunsets.
Hipsters will retweet and reminisce on the
universality of your transgressions.
It will be the stuff of daydreams
and nightmares
The source of controversy
and insomnia
You. Will. Be. Infamous.

Are you ready?