Poetry overwhelms me

This is a poem I've been working on for over a year now. Granted it was off and on. I didn't really spend that much time over all on it. I'm still not happy with it. I think my title is cheesy, but it's all I can come up with right now. I have a really hard time with poetry after taking many creative writing classes in college. There's so much you have to think about. It overwhelms me.


Invisible Impressions

I glanced at the blue ink
sinking into the lines
of my fingertips
like shadows on cracks
in metallic concrete.

I stamped my fingerprints
onto white walls
then pressed
middle and index finger
into the puddle
above your shoulder blade--

I left an imprint on your skin.

You grasped for my fingers
like strings, or rather straws,
thirsty for my compassion;
a compassion you knew could be squeezed
from me like water from a cactus.
You were dying for comfort,
and I was weary of the warnings
pricking underneath my skin.

Once again,
you’ve
sucked
me
dry.

So on second thought
I could’ve stamped my fingerprints
onto a white chaise or
perhaps I should’ve pressed
into the hallows
of your face, but
once I saw your tears
mix with the blue ink,
I hesitated; my hands were shaky. Yet
somehow, I was
still
in that moment--
frozen, dehydrated,
gazing at the blueberry splatters.

Eventually,
they faded away
along with your weeping and
I knew you’d soon forget,
my impressions erased
as quickly as magic ink.
The blue now invisible,
and the kindness I’d spared,
untraceable.


The poem is about the many times my kindness has been taken for granted. I put alot into relationships and I am a great friend. I try to leave an impression of my kindness on those I care about, but sometimes these people end up completely forgetting how I had been there for them. Not only am I wanting them to remember my own kindness, I also want them to remember to be kind. Sometimes that too gets lost.