The girl that deserves everything she deprives herself of
Limiting herself to those that don't love
Her back is what's stabbed momentarily.
And she realizes loving a few is better
than pretending with many.
A few feet short of destiny.
But her past is changing this course,
taking her to places she's been before.
She's hurting, and she wants out!
Tear-stained dreams, broken wrist watch, and a mind full of memories.
Is that all that this life holds for her?
Disappointments and lurking shadows with secrets about her.
Life is no more, as she writes this
all responsibility is shrugged off.
How does she feel now?
With little to give and never having received anything.
That girl is me.
I am sorry if this hurts your feelings,
but writing poems about you
is more thrilling than loving you.
We are nuzzled in our bean-pod.
Our friends believe that honey hit our heads
when we slept, clandestine morning dew,
that stuck us together like glue.
It has not come apart yet,
saying you are not going anywhere
even if the gun-holders bust our seam.
I do not have to worry about you leaving
but that is why I do.
When you are not watching a pot,
it begins to boil,
& I watch it so hard I am writing about you
as I am in my underground
6AM consciousness, only awake in heart.
We are so okay
I have to think about you hurting me
to remember no one believes in infinity.
No one else is attached like us.
It is actually kind of boring to be eight
years younger than you, settled down
for everyone to laugh at & disbelieve.
But some of the things that sound so silly
make the most sense.
Your hair is the color of the sky
at 9 o'clock at night.
Your eyes are as green
as mint leaves.
Your smile is as radiant
as the lights twinkling on Christmas trees.
Your embrace is as loving
as a mother holding her child for the first time.
Your laugh is as unique
as everyone's fingerprints.
I just wish you knew what I thought of you.
a boy so passionate that he melted the stars like wax,
his words so powerful they wriggled underneath the asphalt pavements
and cracked their way back up again.
his voice so soothing it ran into dreams
and made its way into peoples’ minds.
his smile so breathtaking that once it was gone
you forget how to want to breathe at all.
his laugh so happy you swear bubbles of light
could burst inside of you and make your skin glow
like a thin layering of the sun, and you wouldn’t find it strange.
his love so real that it could’ve created cities, actual ones,
with houses and skyscrapers and black gum on the cracked gray sidewalk
and lost pet papers taped to the lamp posts and flickering street lights in need of repair.
he was surreal, everybody he knew he had wrapped around his entire being,
protecting him and loving him
to the maximum point of love.
all except for me.
i was held in his palm,
ready to be curled into a fist when he was angry,
ready to run through his hair when he was nervous.
ready to rub at his face when he was tired,
ready to be slammed on the surface of a table when he was outraged.
there through it all,
every single wreck of an emotion he had inside him.
it didn’t make me love him any damn less.
i miss him so much.
oh my god, i actually miss him so fucking much.
what i would give to live on his hand again. if only to fall off a second time.
When He asks, quietly, if I still think of You
even when I’m here, I say
because snow falls just as softly here as it
during our first kiss,
when it melted on your flushed
in the mountain light of our childhood.
I think of your face as it was,
like the neighbor’s cornfield,
fogged but bright through the windows of your car
as you raced me home in the pastoral dawn
to beat my parents' alarm clock.
now when I look at you,
I see the ruins of the storm:
the once-grand Victorians of our town, sunken and foul,
the spray painted x’s, signaling “condemned,”
barely masked by the slush.
this new color in the landscape of your countenance,
is a translucent grey —
I think it is called indifference.
They told us
“distance extinguishes small flames, and fuels great fires.”
my breath burns cold and sharp,
like the icicles that hung outside your mother’s store,
when You told me that it was easy to hurt me,
and You didn’t know why.
those words froze me solid
like citrus trees killed in a late frost.
He says that He still see the pinkness in my own cheeks, when I talk of You.
and say that I will try harder to stop loving You,
but the chairlift rocks and shifts the spears in my chest and
because I know I will for all my life.
You know how you have to feel to write this
Begone Melancholy, Nostalgia, Chagrin!
The sun is smiling
As we remain thankful
with many more graces
all the while
that sweet nectar of joy
All ~ finally just right
Spring is the sound of the singing birds
to the summer of endless loving
Au revoir to the fogs that cloud the hearts,
Farewell to the mists where souls are lost
Come and stay here, sun!
Come to stay!
I held you in my arms as you died.
Your blood covered my whole body.
Hot, sticky, warm, and wet.
That's how it felt.
Three drunk bastards killed you.
Why couldn't they die?
Why did they get layed off?
Not even probation!
The proof was in my eyes.
On the gun.
On your clothes...
I will never forget you.
Because I will never stop loving you.
Why did you die for me?
I wonder if she knows how lucky she is,
To have you by her side late at night.
I need you,
I want you.
Am stuck with stolen moments.
A few hours here and there.
Stuck in an alternate reality,
where we have all the time in the world.
In my dreams you are mine.
You hold me close and whisper in my ear.
You serenade me in a million ways,
With your touch and words.
I tremble for a moment in your arms.
It's the only place that makes sense.
I can't help loving you.
I fall for you in a million ways,
everytime we steal moments from fate.
You already read three of my secrets.
I know they scared you.
They scare me too.
There are more.
What I am about to tell you is not a secret.
It's just something I should have said from day one.
I'm a suicidal, used-to-be emo, punk girl.
Or I should say was.
Now I am a smart, loving, funny, misunderstood teenage girl.
Then again what 16 year old isn't?
i want to run away somewhere quiet
where my hopes and dreams cannot be trampled on
where my future doesn't scare me
there must be more
than these four walls of high school
it will get better than these dreary summer days
than this hot, toronto weather
i'll go somewhere isolated and rainy
just me and my thoughts and nature
where i can hear the mountain sound
i will go so far away that the voices of my generation
cannot judge me for being myself
where i can dance in the morning sunlight
without being laughed at for loving a new day
there is a place for me in this world of wonders
i don't know where yet
but it's out there and i won't lose hope
i will someday find my perfect somewhere
(1.31am | j.g.)