Apr 2015
is the way i flip my phone every ten minutes hoping that youve texted me back
is the way that i sob into my hands over a love that i had to build myself
i understand that you put all this effort into
pressing a finger over my name in your phone's directory
to bring your phone up to your ear and hold a conversation
with me that you only contributed "yes" "no" and "i've gotta go"s.
as i searched up your favourite bands and tried to tell you about
how close the date was to them coming to the city,
or how i kept trying to remind you of a better time between us
and tried to keep us alive, i tried so hard to keep us alive.
it's the way that i can't seem to hold a job to my name
or figure out my own life after school,
but somehow, i always find the money to find my way to get to
you, find the time to invest in you, although our time
had run out weeks and weeks ago
to have you sleep all day as i sit on the edge of your bed
playing trivia crush until you wake up when i plug my phone
into the outlet beside your head
"i fell asleep" you'll say 2 hours after i arrive,
my shoes are still on my feet because i was too nervous to lay down
beside your sleeping body,
and i'll smile and lie, "i understand"
and even though i do, with every "no worries" and "i get it"s,
i feel that weight on my chest grow tons and tons heavier
it's the way i want to leave school now because i want to start a life
with you, but the way i have to close my eyes to the dreams 18-year-old me meandered over with my roommate excitedly,
"hey, one day, we'll have it all figured out." we laughed
"hey, one day," you'd tell me as i cried over the phone, "we'll have it all figured out,"
"it'll all be okay."
pure ******* poetry is the way you text me paragraphs
of how much you adore me, and want me, and want to marry me,
and how you still love this mess that has been slowly and chaotically
falling everywhere in a heap of nothing -
it's the way you tell me from a distance,
"i'll still love you no matter what you are"
and i'll cry into my sweater because you don't know what i am,
you're too far to understand- that the monsters have come out
to play unfairly
i don't know where you've been and i don't know what truths
you've been telling me but
your hands on my face as you begged for me to look at you
as you pressed quiet kisses on my eyelids
and how you held me for hours as i cried over nothing
pure ******* poetry
is the way that i sob into my hands over a love that i had to build myself
i understand that you put all this effort into
pressing a finger over my name in your phone's directory
to bring your phone up to your ear and hold a conversation
with me that you only contributed "yes" "no" and "i've gotta go"s.
as i searched up your favourite bands and tried to tell you about
how close the date was to them coming to the city,
or how i kept trying to remind you of a better time between us
and tried to keep us alive, i tried so hard to keep us alive.
it's the way that i can't seem to hold a job to my name
or figure out my own life after school,
but somehow, i always find the money to find my way to get to
you, find the time to invest in you, although our time
had run out weeks and weeks ago
to have you sleep all day as i sit on the edge of your bed
playing trivia crush until you wake up when i plug my phone
into the outlet beside your head
"i fell asleep" you'll say 2 hours after i arrive,
my shoes are still on my feet because i was too nervous to lay down
beside your sleeping body,
and i'll smile and lie, "i understand"
and even though i do, with every "no worries" and "i get it"s,
i feel that weight on my chest grow tons and tons heavier
it's the way i want to leave school now because i want to start a life
with you, but the way i have to close my eyes to the dreams 18-year-old me meandered over with my roommate excitedly,
"hey, one day, we'll have it all figured out." we laughed
"hey, one day," you'd tell me as i cried over the phone, "we'll have it all figured out,"
"it'll all be okay."
pure ******* poetry is the way you text me paragraphs
of how much you adore me, and want me, and want to marry me,
and how you still love this mess that has been slowly and chaotically
falling everywhere in a heap of nothing -
it's the way you tell me from a distance,
"i'll still love you no matter what you are"
and i'll cry into my sweater because you don't know what i am,
you're too far to understand- that the monsters have come out
to play unfairly
i don't know where you've been and i don't know what truths
you've been telling me but
your hands on my face as you begged for me to look at you
as you pressed quiet kisses on my eyelids
and how you held me for hours as i cried over nothing
pure ******* poetry
