October crept back in at this petty pace,
Persephone's leaving after hot summer days.
Autumn brings back memories of them
Late nights spent in some fanatic haze
December holds a chill my bones still remember
You kissed me the last time last winter.
Year has past and we have grown,
you nor I are children anymore.
Yet I miss your touch as the summer leaves
something about you changed me.
Dec 23, 2021
Dec 23, 2021 at 2:13 AM UTC
Memories encroach on a star speckled consciousness,
How the sun felt in years gone by.
What was life like when happiness sprouted from the earth?
How mud splattered flower child was taught to be quiet.
We spend years relearning that we are birthed of stars,
Only to let simple vibrations of air
Crumble war torn castles of consciousness.
Jan 15, 2021
Jan 15, 2021 at 12:58 AM UTC
As I wring my hand washed laundry,
The air still rings of you.
I think of each word we shared,
Miracously few in hind sight.
My bathroom a dripping mausoleum,
Thoughs of you hanging out to dry.
I was a different person then,
Still convinced I could survive.
I cant wash my mind this way.
As I wade through this confusion,
And into murky waters.
I simply hope you do not forget me.
Jan 8, 2021
Jan 8, 2021 at 12:17 PM UTC
And I feel so like the ocean,
Pulled into you like the moon.
I have this gravitation
Where I can't seem to let go
Jan 7, 2021
Jan 7, 2021 at 4:15 PM UTC
He feigned surprise when I left,
Even with his own claim.
I was manic pixie dream girl,
I am green hair and ciggerettes.
Yet the manic pixie dream girl always dies,
Manic pixie dream girl is sick.
Jan 7, 2021
Jan 7, 2021 at 4:13 PM UTC
I fell in love with the possibility of her,
Of the rebellious nature that was her.
How her smile lifted the corners of my mouth.
I remember knowing it would never work,
But also that she made me feel alive.
And her kisses were delt like drugs.
How she only gave them when it helped her
And when it hurt me.
Jan 4, 2021
Jan 4, 2021 at 5:35 PM UTC
The Undoing of Time
By Elizabeth Sage Jackson
If one could reverse the spinning of this rock
Would time turn back?
Could I undo actions that left hurt in your eyes?
Brown eyes bleed sadness, you look at me.
An old friend, my almost future,
Where is the me you used to know?
Could I take back thorn sharp words?
Cut back envy and greed,
Grow a garden of honesty. Speak only kind words.
People can’t take back bitter-hearted statements.
I can not cross the stars.
Almost perfect love becomes murky
River water under the metaphorical bridge of consciousness.
Yet almost is still the most haunting word.
This almost perfect had embedded itself in my mind.
If I were not so hasty cruel,
It would be possible to denote another future.
I grieve what will never be.
Like the year late light of a long dead star.
I drift through this void of love and lust,
Alternate endings haunting my feeble mind.
It is impossible to take back emotion,
We can only ponder on the great what ifs.
The light of dying stars illuminates your hollow face
I don’t know how to stop my ever spinning mind.
They say stars burn brightest right before implosion,
And perhaps that explains my past.
Life is most joyous before the impact.
World floating, perfectly still.
Body knows what the mind refuses to acknowledge.
Earth will stop spinning if we love hard enough,
Write a few more poems of love and lust.
Just to stop this fatal trajectory.
Spinning out into pin sized blackholes.
Lose it all for something we can not see.
Jan 4, 2021
Jan 4, 2021 at 5:26 PM UTC
And I'm looking at this polaroid,
With all my conflict at heart.
I do not think you are good for me,
I do not think this will end well.
Yet I imagine myself at your fingertips.
The way you laugh as twilight fades,
And I know that even if I see the outcome.
I am powerless to stop the process.
Jan 4, 2021
Jan 4, 2021 at 5:19 PM UTC
The waves whisper to my skin,
The softest kind of siren song.
I wonder how the day has past for those I used to love,
I wonder if the stars have ever truly aligned.
And in all the wandering of my heart,
One too many people have been hurt.
Although, if you ask me, one is too many.
The moon calls back memory,
Of how words can travel through the body.
Like starlight cuts through space
Just to find my bare skin.
Dec 28, 2020
Dec 28, 2020 at 3:22 PM UTC