Some days, all it takes is a whisper
A stray thought. A smokelike wisp
I want to drown in the silence of my life
Gentle like this snowfall
I count the threads of my grief quietly
Writing in tandem with this sorrow that roots itself in the pit of my stomach
I promise I am not all of this; or rather, this is not all of me.
I am flesh and bone and laughter and full.
But there are days when the static claims the nerves under my skin and the ache throbs in my soul.
Those days, these days, I come to you
Jul 8, 2024
Jul 8, 2024 at 11:04 PM UTC
I see now
The beauty that hides
At the bottom of
A wine bottle
Siren calls in
The vibrations under
My skin
It's a very tempting
Sort of numbness
That almost supersedes
My will to persevere
How rose like
It all feels
It will not claim me,
But at least now I understand
The motivations
Of those around me
Who had given in.
Nov 19, 2020
Nov 19, 2020 at 11:53 AM UTC
-------------------
_I feel as if it's hidden
In a long forgotten drawer -
The little tack of happiness
I would stick against the door.
Listing, sinking, drowning:
A ship without a shore,
I'd like to watch my troubles fall
Like ribbons on the floor._
-------------------
Jun 9, 2020
Jun 9, 2020 at 4:47 AM UTC
Did your heart stop
From the alcohol
Or the memory of my disdain?
Did it shatter
Or freeze in motion?
My mouth turns into cotton
And my eyes into glass
At the thought that I may
Have been the cause of your
Broken heart.
May 29, 2020
May 29, 2020 at 3:24 AM UTC
----------
*they always mention the sins of our fathers
but never the trauma of our mothers*
----------
Apr 1, 2020
Apr 1, 2020 at 1:16 AM UTC
There are still nights
Where the frequency in my head
Pierces the silence,
And every face I thumb through
Looks like yours.
Your ghost breathes heavy
In this house
And you still manage to
Be the center of every conversation.
Part of me hated that about you.
There's something inside that says
Remembering the fire and the snow
Is both betrayal and therapy;
You were not,
In any sense of the word,
Perfect.
But the blood dried on your face
Once ran in your veins
And your heart beat with
How fiercely you fought
Against the world.
In retrospect, you were my
Biggest muse.
Part of me loved that about you.
Mar 10, 2020
Mar 10, 2020 at 4:07 AM UTC
In Pantheon roars,
We shouted
And threw boulders
In the night
Where the sirens
Were our only witnesses
-----------------------
Give me back the mornings
Of quiet snow and soft music
The yawning sun, not quite
Awake
Give me the solitude, the
Fleeting moments of sanctuary
So I may find myself a saner
Sort of clarity
There is peace in snow
-----------------------
I once wrote on unrequited love: "This is going to take some time."
It's felt like lifetimes.
-----------------------
If it hurts to hear
Your heart beating,
What was it that
I wanted, then?
If I ran away again,
What would happen then?
What would happen, then?
Dec 3, 2019
Dec 3, 2019 at 12:11 AM UTC
Wrestling with this hourglass
Trying to bring back
All the times that we fought
And all the times I lost
With you
There's a lifetime of moments
We still had to share
But the dust of your bones
Settled before the dust
In your veins had a chance
These days I've lost all sense
Of what's worth it
I haven't listened to music
In a month.
*I've never known a darkness like hers.
Not really.*
You went in a hail storm
And I don't know if that's poetic
Or just the crescendo of what
Your life led up to.
You always were chaos incarnate.
A gun with a hairline trigger.
The only blank left in the barrel
Is the one taking space in my head
Since you left.
I never knew how many facets
There were to grief.
I don't think they make numbers that
Big.
There's a pinprick of nothingness
In the world
And most people pass it by-
But some eyes, they haven't
Let it out of their sight.
I have grey hairs you'll never see.
She told me it was nothingness.
The anger on my tongue died later
Than you,
But so help me,
Give me one more day to relive it
And maybe I won't feel so empty.
Just one more.
Please.
Sep 19, 2019
Sep 19, 2019 at 8:02 PM UTC
There are days where I sit on my porch
And watch the sun hang in a low,
Lazy bauble with
Spun sugar lacing the sky
There's a day I've set up a lamp
I've bought for myself
And then wash the dishes
Where pomegranate scented bubbles
Soak my rolled up sleeves
Days I force myself to do laundry
Because I hate the monotony of it
The necessity of it
Even though it's a breath of fresh air
When done
Days of filling the silence with
Gentle croons of blues and jazz
And the feeling of wet, cold paint
Between my hands and a canvas
Or the stickiness of cookie dough
Between my fingers
And the wash of heat against my face
When the oven door opens
In these small ways, somehow,
I am healing,
Though I do not know what from
Just that these scars are paling
If only a little
And the pain in my chest settles
Into something like an echo
Or a memory
Something tolerable
Something bearable.
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 9:30 PM UTC
These words are fingerprints;
A momento of the fleeting seconds
Where I overflow with emotion
Like a glass under a faucet.
True, these portraits are usually
A collection of broken mirrors,
But let me write when I am howling
At the moon in my car
As the man on the radio makes love
To his microphone
And the glow of streetlights light
The path home.
Let me write when the floors are clean,
Lemon cleaner and sunlight pouring in,
And I'm trimming the ends of flower stalks
For a vase that paints these walls of mine "home".
I am not entirely fragmented.
My ankles may weaken
And my spine my stiffen
And static might overwrite my thoughts
When the sun retires,
But against everything, I stand.
I stand.
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 9:49 PM UTC