FJaxx
It's a lot easier to be authentic, if you don't claim to be authentic. / / You must be crazy. You must be hurting, wildly bothered, filled to the brim with love, exceptionally interesting, bizarre and optimistically depressed. You must be- you, are a poet. / / / IG: F.Jaxx
If you would have asked me to stay
i would not have said no,
it would never have meant yes
I despised those pants you used to wear, the ones that fell too short and landed too far above your shoes.
it made you look like a child who had out grown his pants.
your mom gave me a look of distrust; she was always right about me.
I didn't cheat on you the morning in March when you accused me, although I wanted to.
in June I cheated with the bartender from the karaoke bar where you sang Bob Marley that one spring night.
I thought I would regret it, I didn't.
I told you I loved you because you said it first, I didn't mean it for another 3 months.
I never liked your singing voice,
or New York City.
I still dream of the way you looked at me the first day we danced.
I cried about you last week stuck in LA traffic.
I think about you every other morning, and when I'm drinking red wine.
you were always a lover. sometimes I just needed a friend.
Ive tried to convince myself it wasn't my fault-
the truth is you would never have been enough
my burden to bear is that I'm addicted to chaos… excitement… fire.
Your burden is that you cared too much.
you are tranquil, I am a hurricane.
I want to make you laugh again.
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 7:35 PM UTC
We live in the reality of spirituality
The universe only lets us think we make the rules, so we'd believe
we had the power to pick our own lovers.
Well the Truth is we were handpicked for each other.
You were always going to be mine, I was always going to be yours.
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 4:41 PM UTC
To the people I once loved loudly,
the ones I am no longer in daily conversation's with.
I still love you.
Quietly,
in the moment the sun rise's,
and the last breath before the sun falls.
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 3:27 AM UTC
if i stopped eating
people would compliment me
on how thin i am
and when they saw the bruises
they pressed their mouths
shut tight
and just joked about
how clumsy i could be
with their easily uneasy smiles.
i don’t know if they
just didn’t see
or if they just weren’t
looking.
introducing him
to my friends was like
living in a ****** part of town,
having someone over
and hearing the racket of gunfire
outside of your window
and then having them say to you,
“oh, listen,
you can hear the fireworks
from here!”
and being too embarrassed
to correct them.
so maybe i’m not sure
if i believe in fireworks;
bombs are too often
mistaken for them.
but i can distinguish the difference
now, i can, and i will not
teach my daughters that when
he pushes you down in the dirt
and pulls on your pigtails
it’s because he likes you.
because when i covered up
those bruises on my body
in too-light concealer
like i’d never learned how to cover up
love-bites and tired eyes,
there was a voice in the back of
my mind that was telling me
that he only pushed me
down because he loved me.
i do not want a voice
inside my daughter’s heads
that sounds like me,
telling them that they deserve
their split lips.
i will tell my daughters to wear
boxing gloves over their manicures,
i will tell my daughters that
“love” is not an excuse,
i will tell my daughters that no one
is allowed to give you
a black eye and expect you
not to punch back harder,
i will tell my daughters
that you are not weak for getting hurt
because the weak ones
are those who let their anger
and insecurities
manifest themselves
in fists and words.
i will tell my daughters
the difference between bombs and fireworks,
i will tell them that they may sound
the same sometimes,
but fireworks don't ****
innocence.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 2:34 PM UTC
Your mom calls and says she's sending a plane ticket home
you email your college professors and explain that you'll have to make-up the midterm exam
you decide to drive the 1,547 miles back home instead of taking a flight.
you ask your roommate for any ******* she has left from Saturday night
you suddenly realize that last weekend will be the last time you dance for a while.
eventually you'll realize that you will never smile the same again.
You show up to your brothers funeral hungover and smelling of cheap gin.
you curse god, but you don't abandon him
you've always loved a good horror film, the blood and gory always thrilled you.
but this is real life, and romanticizing death is a luxury afforded only to hollywood films.
you hardly cry, tears will never be the glue that put together the pieces of your broken life.
you scream, and scream and scream.
but you're never too lost to be found
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 1:57 AM UTC
You will never write poetry,
but you will always understand
my need to slip out of bed at 4am and put pen to paper
as I draft love stories
that will never quite compare to ours.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 10:33 PM UTC
I still sing aloud in my car
Loudly and out of tone, I sing to my favorite rock songs with wild abandon
and when my friends ask me if I'm over you
I say yes.
I'm not
When my mother asks me why my eyes are red
I say my allergies are flaring up.
I lie.
because every bit of oxygen I inhale is consumed with you
but I still sing
so theres hope.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 2:07 PM UTC
I asked myself today, who am I.
“Who am I?”
“Who am I…”
A question that demands attention and continually forces a new, more thoughtful, more concise, more self-aware answer, over, and over, and over again.
The question we revisit so long as we continue to exist; so long as we continue to progress, and even digress.
So I ask myself today as I am moving into new and uncharted waters,
“Who am I?”
Despite my best attempts, such a dynamic part of MY answer lies with YOU.
Today, as it stands, I am a woman who does not truly have her father.
I am a woman who faces the treacheries of this world, with very minimal help and love from her father.
A woman who rejoices in the beauty and awesomeness of this universe without being able to fully share that with her father.
I am navigating this life with out your guidance, nor your wisdom.
But, I am healthy and growing and beautiful and passionate and smart, and most importantly, I am happy.
I am happy, despite you.
And that saddens me.
Today, as it stands, you are alive and well, so this should sadden you too.
Because when you face your question “who am I?”
Your answer should have me in it. Your answer should contain me so completely that you simply cannot separate our two identities.
You should be able to truthfully admit to yourself that a part of who you are,
A part of your answer to one of life’s most important and unavoidable questions is that you are MY father… MY dad.
As long as you are not able to truly admit this to yourself,
It should sadden you too.
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 5:19 PM UTC
I read a significant amount of poetry each day.
It does not matter if their telling a story, sharing their story or that of a friend.
I don't care if their completely ****** off in their feelings... I get it!
It does not matter if their on earth, another planet or in the skies....
We can be some where and everywhere at the same time.
and
I don't care if their
off the wall,
completely insane,
love stricken,
obsessed in love,
obsessed in hate,
belligerent,
spiritual or sane.
Understand
Most of us, is one, if not all of these things.
I praise the creative minds who is able to bare what infects their souls to a world of judges, strangers and on lookers.
~Butterfly εїз
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 4:40 PM UTC
We consumed an entire bottle of cheap *****
I wore that perfume you adore.
We laughed like children the whole way into town
stopping,
to kiss,
every few seconds.
Because maybe,
just maybe, lust is
temporary obsession.
That frantic need to close the gaps between two bodies
like all you are
will break and burst
if you don't touch.
that night you tattoo'd my name across your chest,
the same color as your skin.
we awoke mid day, deathly hungover with no recollection of the previous nights festivities.
And In the end,
I lost the city,
the restaurants we found together,
the friends we made... you kept.
I got the dog,
she never loved you quite as much as me anyway.
And now, its summer, as you lay on the caramel sand along side your new girlfriend,
the sun slowly and adamantly browning your body,
my name appears
ever so subtly.
I always had a way of sneaking back into your soul,
never letting you escape my perfectly beautiful grasp.
as though your veins have a mind of their own.
As though your body refuses to believe that I am no longer running through you.
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 10:04 PM UTC