Tworoadsdiverged - Hello Poetry

pale light steeps, hardening the sweat on my back in creeps relief but you don't know that. one dawn, one day, the sun won't bring the hope of something new. One day, I won't search for it, the morning dew making my shoes wet. One day, the sun will stream in. and it'll be just another morning.

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Apr 4, 2020

Apr 4, 2020 at 1:31 AM UTC

Tworoadsdiverged

dawn

pale light steeps, hardening the sweat on my back in creeps relief but you don't know that. one dawn, one day, the sun won't bring the hope of something new. One day, I won't search for it, the morning dew making my shoes wet. One day, the sun will stream in. and it'll be just another morning.

12

Before a breath in, it is there— muggy, swampy, heavenly. Before a barefoot step outside, sweat folds into the skin and won’t let go that time they write about is upon us. Consider this the preface to a 19th summer. Where you sneak around drinking sub-par humid beer, stolen from the forgotten bucket left outside. The June when you finally get to see what all the fuss is about— a sweaty push and pull you’ve wondered about for years. Freedom is before you, released from the shackles of high school, from a love that came too quickly, and refused to leave. get on that train, into that car that you can finally touch; do things with that boy you don’t love. Home has never felt more like home than when you’re on the porch, venturing into a midnight that is dripping with warmth and the knowledge that never again could you feel this young and this old.

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Apr 16, 2019

Apr 16, 2019 at 12:48 AM UTC

Tworoadsdiverged

19th summer

Before a breath in, it is there— muggy, swampy, heavenly. Before a barefoot step outside, sweat folds into the skin and won’t let go that time they write about is upon us. Consider this the preface to a 19th summer. Where you sneak around drinking sub-par humid beer, stolen from the forgotten bucket left outside. The June when you finally get to see what all the fuss is about— a sweaty push and pull you’ve wondered about for years. Freedom is before you, released from the shackles of high school, from a love that came too quickly, and refused to leave. get on that train, into that car that you can finally touch; do things with that boy you don’t love. Home has never felt more like home than when you’re on the porch, venturing into a midnight that is dripping with warmth and the knowledge that never again could you feel this young and this old.

29

What will it feel like To kiss you again? Six months is a long time. Will I recognize the swollen slope Of your arms, your back, Your legs against mine? Long nights imagining you— Close as we can be, will be over. You’ll stir in your sleep, maybe I’ll kiss your cheek? Months and weeks will fall away In the future and the past. And no matter how many times You bind yourself tightly To the sinking ship that is my lips— You know we’re not going to last?

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Apr 15, 2019

Apr 15, 2019 at 2:13 AM UTC

Tworoadsdiverged

questions for you

What will it feel like To kiss you again? Six months is a long time. Will I recognize the swollen slope Of your arms, your back, Your legs against mine? Long nights imagining you— Close as we can be, will be over. You’ll stir in your sleep, maybe I’ll kiss your cheek? Months and weeks will fall away In the future and the past. And no matter how many times You bind yourself tightly To the sinking ship that is my lips— You know we’re not going to last?

16

It is Spring, and you look at us, take a picture in the cherry blossom dress, surrounded by your friends. Summer nights when you look at one of us in the bathroom, grin and laugh at your drunkenness. We smile back. The leaves fall and you’re alone, your breath fogs the glass in front of us tears sliding down “I'm dramatic”, you say. If we could tell you something new, it would be that we are there for you. no one has seen you like we have, checking your mascara before your dates, glancing in bathrooms when you feel overwhelmed, before those college interviews, sending pictures to the boys you like that moment right before you cry. Chin wobbling, lip teetering— do not be afraid. We are crying with you.

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Apr 11, 2019

Apr 11, 2019 at 11:29 PM UTC

Tworoadsdiverged

reflecting

It is Spring, and you look at us, take a picture in the cherry blossom dress, surrounded by your friends. Summer nights when you look at one of us in the bathroom, grin and laugh at your drunkenness. We smile back. The leaves fall and you’re alone, your breath fogs the glass in front of us tears sliding down “I'm dramatic”, you say. If we could tell you something new, it would be that we are there for you. no one has seen you like we have, checking your mascara before your dates, glancing in bathrooms when you feel overwhelmed, before those college interviews, sending pictures to the boys you like that moment right before you cry. Chin wobbling, lip teetering— do not be afraid. We are crying with you.

25

lucid, iridescent. A vibrant remedy to a gray backdrop. three months felt like six, and the past four have felt like two. A pretty blade on my ear, benign, what a lovely reminder that the world can be good again-- you just have to shift the angle to see it shimmer.

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Apr 9, 2019

Apr 9, 2019 at 11:52 PM UTC

Tworoadsdiverged

a new opal

lucid, iridescent. A vibrant remedy to a gray backdrop. three months felt like six, and the past four have felt like two. A pretty blade on my ear, benign, what a lovely reminder that the world can be good again-- you just have to shift the angle to see it shimmer.

10

3:23 and I think to be worrying about my terrible grade about the train being too slow about having alcohol in my veins the night before is profoundly lucky.

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Apr 8, 2019

Apr 8, 2019 at 12:11 AM UTC

Tworoadsdiverged

sunday afternoon gloom

3:23 and I think to be worrying about my terrible grade about the train being too slow about having alcohol in my veins the night before is profoundly lucky.

6

Tell me it’s bad to want to hold on to trudging upstairs, laughing, eating on the benches, singing in the theatre and places we weren’t supposed to It’s bad to want to hold on but tell me that those warm days weren’t the best of your life, staying up all night crying when we realized it was ending Tell me that holding on is bad because all I remember is talking for hours upon hours with dusk falling, everyone laughing, and feeling drunk without drinking Don’t tell me holding on is bad because I want to go back to a bonfire when you sat next to me, back when we had a chance. Before we went into the dark, with naive hopes held high.

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Apr 6, 2019

Apr 6, 2019 at 8:21 PM UTC

Tworoadsdiverged

nostalgia

Tell me it’s bad to want to hold on to trudging upstairs, laughing, eating on the benches, singing in the theatre and places we weren’t supposed to It’s bad to want to hold on but tell me that those warm days weren’t the best of your life, staying up all night crying when we realized it was ending Tell me that holding on is bad because all I remember is talking for hours upon hours with dusk falling, everyone laughing, and feeling drunk without drinking Don’t tell me holding on is bad because I want to go back to a bonfire when you sat next to me, back when we had a chance. Before we went into the dark, with naive hopes held high.

21

like a boiling lobster, i don't feel it coming, i dont see it before it hits

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Apr 4, 2019

Apr 4, 2019 at 11:30 PM UTC

Tworoadsdiverged

anxiety

like a boiling lobster, i don't feel it coming, i dont see it before it hits

5

I imagine our bodies breathing, sun streaming, crickets screaming (as they do). You play with my hair as we breathe in the humid air, watch shadows of birds that wallow and dip, and my forehead meets your lips. Laughter in my ear chests pulled near and you mutter sleepily, “I wish we could just stay here,” (forever).

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Apr 4, 2019

Apr 4, 2019 at 5:16 PM UTC

Tworoadsdiverged

hoping for summer

I imagine our bodies breathing, sun streaming, crickets screaming (as they do). You play with my hair as we breathe in the humid air, watch shadows of birds that wallow and dip, and my forehead meets your lips. Laughter in my ear chests pulled near and you mutter sleepily, “I wish we could just stay here,” (forever).

15

Wash me clean of this feeling, left over from a frost, half thawed. I am slow and clunky tension and heavy my head is empty, but there’s so much pressure. Building up, holding itself up. Let the pressure break, water me into serenity.

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Apr 4, 2019

Apr 4, 2019 at 5:12 PM UTC

Tworoadsdiverged

April Showers

Wash me clean of this feeling, left over from a frost, half thawed. I am slow and clunky tension and heavy my head is empty, but there’s so much pressure. Building up, holding itself up. Let the pressure break, water me into serenity.

9