alyssa-starnes - Hello Poetry

We used to wave at trains. Because we thought they cared When we were getting smaller and smaller Behind them. We thought they cared Because our parents cared And our teachers cared And our friends And we cared. That's when we cared. About the people we didn't know And the places we'd never been And when we made someone cry It made us cry. When was the last time you cried? Because it wasn't because of me. I can be almost sure of that. Do you ever think of the things I do to your body? Or just the composition of all the little things I am not. I try not to fancy myself The philosophical type But when I think of the reason I am here I can never push away your blue eyes Or crooked smile Or your calloused hands Or the days you couldn't push me away either. We have a lifetime ahead of us Filled with cabs And airplanes And buses And boats And trains that we can get off together, Instead of getting smaller and smaller To each other.

0

Mar 15, 2012

Mar 15, 2012 at 8:48 PM UTC

Push.

We used to wave at trains. Because we thought they cared When we were getting smaller and smaller Behind them. We thought they cared Because our parents cared And our teachers cared And our friends And we cared. That's when we cared. About the people we didn't know And the places we'd never been And when we made someone cry It made us cry. When was the last time you cried? Because it wasn't because of me. I can be almost sure of that. Do you ever think of the things I do to your body? Or just the composition of all the little things I am not. I try not to fancy myself The philosophical type But when I think of the reason I am here I can never push away your blue eyes Or crooked smile Or your calloused hands Or the days you couldn't push me away either. We have a lifetime ahead of us Filled with cabs And airplanes And buses And boats And trains that we can get off together, Instead of getting smaller and smaller To each other.

36

you've tried on dreads, feminism, and barista. i still don't know how someone who changes their identity is always the same to me. you are part of something called truth. a word i still can't define, sort of like you. waiting for a four word piece of art to remain on you always, you neglect to remember you remain forever, just by existing to these people. temporarily stuck in a sleepy town, with your eyes wide open, your heart beating fast, like a bull at the gate, and sadly we have realized the world is sometimes a ***** red blanket you want to take down. but once you make it through, this wall of comfortability and lack of resonance, you will find miracles. maybe not now, or five million words from now, you might realize that you are of much more importance than you ever thought you were. so while you survive off a caffeinated IV, and enchanting rock and rollers, i will attempt to mentally record the life of a legend who will go to the grave, denying they were even a legend at all.

0

Oct 26, 2011

Oct 26, 2011 at 8:23 PM UTC

HB.

you've tried on dreads, feminism, and barista. i still don't know how someone who changes their identity is always the same to me. you are part of something called truth. a word i still can't define, sort of like you. waiting for a four word piece of art to remain on you always, you neglect to remember you remain forever, just by existing to these people. temporarily stuck in a sleepy town, with your eyes wide open, your heart beating fast, like a bull at the gate, and sadly we have realized the world is sometimes a ***** red blanket you want to take down. but once you make it through, this wall of comfortability and lack of resonance, you will find miracles. maybe not now, or five million words from now, you might realize that you are of much more importance than you ever thought you were. so while you survive off a caffeinated IV, and enchanting rock and rollers, i will attempt to mentally record the life of a legend who will go to the grave, denying they were even a legend at all.

31

it's not so difficult to string words together for you in a beautiful way but when i answer your call at two thirty- six am, i hope you know i love you. it is not very hard to kiss your lips, but when i paint you pictures of what our love looks like and send it with expensive stamps, i hope you know i love you. i don't try much when i wear that dress you think i look so good in, but when i sing your favorite songs into the rook in your neck while my lips are blue from cold, i hope you know, i love you.

0

Oct 26, 2011

Oct 26, 2011 at 7:44 PM UTC

Know.

it's not so difficult to string words together for you in a beautiful way but when i answer your call at two thirty- six am, i hope you know i love you. it is not very hard to kiss your lips, but when i paint you pictures of what our love looks like and send it with expensive stamps, i hope you know i love you. i don't try much when i wear that dress you think i look so good in, but when i sing your favorite songs into the rook in your neck while my lips are blue from cold, i hope you know, i love you.

16

if i write this poem simply maybe we can just end without the dizzy love spill to slip in and blame each other for our skinned knees and i can't stop bleeding and bleeding and the blood will never run out i think

0

Oct 26, 2011

Oct 26, 2011 at 7:08 PM UTC

Blood.

if i write this poem simply maybe we can just end without the dizzy love spill to slip in and blame each other for our skinned knees and i can't stop bleeding and bleeding and the blood will never run out i think

9

i think about the distance. how many miles my tires would tread, turning and turning like the thoughts in my head. how many drops of gas it'd take to make the journey how they'd slosh around in my tank just like the butterflies in my stomach. due to the prospect of meeting someone i'd never met but loved wider than the wingspan of an ancient creature almost as unfathomable as the relationship we've conjured. maybe it's the celestial coincidence of being born on the same day of dreary november, almost december. or the closeness of our relatives who it seems sometimes wonder why they even planted the seeds of this flourishing friendship in the first place. mostly i think it is the fact that we are the same in so many more ways than we are different. your fingers conduct an orchestra of sound, while mine scrawl out epiphanies on paper but we're both making miracles, aren't we? we're both falling in love with the world at the same time, under the same moon, under the same strain of heart longing to be together but mostly to be away from the places we are at right now. you want my sunshine, and i want your rain. but i think we secretly just want to be in the same room as each other, even if it was only regurgitated air conditioning filling our lungs. because our eyes, for once in our god **** lives would be witnessing visualized faith. i'm speaking for myself, but i think we both have found the truth in one another. and when everyone else leaves you don't arrive, you stay. and when i am in pieces, you remind me you are too, instead of forcing mine together in a pattern neither of us would ever be able to decipher anyways. you make me laugh. i mean, really laugh. the kind where i can barely inhale oxygen, enjoying the momentary euphoric absence of necessity, and simply relishing in the smile stretching through my soul. you tell me i am beautiful in one of the first ways i've ever believed it and remind me everyday that shouldn't be the case. we have strange ways of speaking, and sometimes things don't come out quite right, but it is a different thing to be understood by you. i know more strength in our separation than in the proximity of some blood and i swear i can almost hear your heartbeat if i'm quiet enough. sometimes at night when neither of us can sleep, much to our chagrin, i read your words on the neon screen within my palms, in the tone of your voice and i could swear you were there, with me, reminding me we are vastly unaware of what we are to become, but helping me celebrate what we already know of the labyrinth we inhabit. when i have to validate the present conditions we are in, i choose to validate the other conditions i know to be true as well. we have walked the ravaged earth together in ways, each day growing older in synchronicity. we spend them in the same zone of time, the sun setting on each of our days at the same hour. each of our mornings it greets us with beauty and a knowing that one day it can glow on our toes, then up our legs, our stomachs, and finally up to our hearts, warming us at the same time, from the same place, in the same room, and all of the sameness may be overwhelming, even to the glowing radiant life from which this has all had the chance to bloom, but maybe it will be alright to not be prepared for something wonderful for once. i promise to listen to you play, and sing along horribly. i promise to come to all of your shows, even the ones on the couch. and i promise that every day i will see your dreams with the same vivid clarity you do, because you are something i know how to believe in. and so when you remember to believe, i hope it is the closeness, that you see.

0

Oct 24, 2011

Oct 24, 2011 at 1:35 AM UTC

Orchestra.

i think about the distance. how many miles my tires would tread, turning and turning like the thoughts in my head. how many drops of gas it'd take to make the journey how they'd slosh around in my tank just like the butterflies in my stomach. due to the prospect of meeting someone i'd never met but loved wider than the wingspan of an ancient creature almost as unfathomable as the relationship we've conjured. maybe it's the celestial coincidence of being born on the same day of dreary november, almost december. or the closeness of our relatives who it seems sometimes wonder why they even planted the seeds of this flourishing friendship in the first place. mostly i think it is the fact that we are the same in so many more ways than we are different. your fingers conduct an orchestra of sound, while mine scrawl out epiphanies on paper but we're both making miracles, aren't we? we're both falling in love with the world at the same time, under the same moon, under the same strain of heart longing to be together but mostly to be away from the places we are at right now. you want my sunshine, and i want your rain. but i think we secretly just want to be in the same room as each other, even if it was only regurgitated air conditioning filling our lungs. because our eyes, for once in our god **** lives would be witnessing visualized faith. i'm speaking for myself, but i think we both have found the truth in one another. and when everyone else leaves you don't arrive, you stay. and when i am in pieces, you remind me you are too, instead of forcing mine together in a pattern neither of us would ever be able to decipher anyways. you make me laugh. i mean, really laugh. the kind where i can barely inhale oxygen, enjoying the momentary euphoric absence of necessity, and simply relishing in the smile stretching through my soul. you tell me i am beautiful in one of the first ways i've ever believed it and remind me everyday that shouldn't be the case. we have strange ways of speaking, and sometimes things don't come out quite right, but it is a different thing to be understood by you. i know more strength in our separation than in the proximity of some blood and i swear i can almost hear your heartbeat if i'm quiet enough. sometimes at night when neither of us can sleep, much to our chagrin, i read your words on the neon screen within my palms, in the tone of your voice and i could swear you were there, with me, reminding me we are vastly unaware of what we are to become, but helping me celebrate what we already know of the labyrinth we inhabit. when i have to validate the present conditions we are in, i choose to validate the other conditions i know to be true as well. we have walked the ravaged earth together in ways, each day growing older in synchronicity. we spend them in the same zone of time, the sun setting on each of our days at the same hour. each of our mornings it greets us with beauty and a knowing that one day it can glow on our toes, then up our legs, our stomachs, and finally up to our hearts, warming us at the same time, from the same place, in the same room, and all of the sameness may be overwhelming, even to the glowing radiant life from which this has all had the chance to bloom, but maybe it will be alright to not be prepared for something wonderful for once. i promise to listen to you play, and sing along horribly. i promise to come to all of your shows, even the ones on the couch. and i promise that every day i will see your dreams with the same vivid clarity you do, because you are something i know how to believe in. and so when you remember to believe, i hope it is the closeness, that you see.

68

Your words fill the pages of my holy book. I soak them in with blessed praise. I will take communion from the longing in your eyes, Nourish and rejoice in my abundance of you. Enter your heart and treat it as my temple. Respect with silence the miracles you bring me. Baptized in your showering adoration. Washed clean of my heart’s past torments. I will present you the sacrifice of unbridled passion And with abandon, trust in your embrace. Hymns are your breaths between kisses And these sheets, the alter for our love. We will rest together until our last days, In commemoration of the religion we have made. © AlyssaStarnes

0

Sep 12, 2011

Sep 12, 2011 at 2:46 AM UTC

Hymn.

Your words fill the pages of my holy book. I soak them in with blessed praise. I will take communion from the longing in your eyes, Nourish and rejoice in my abundance of you. Enter your heart and treat it as my temple. Respect with silence the miracles you bring me. Baptized in your showering adoration. Washed clean of my heart’s past torments. I will present you the sacrifice of unbridled passion And with abandon, trust in your embrace. Hymns are your breaths between kisses And these sheets, the alter for our love. We will rest together until our last days, In commemoration of the religion we have made. © AlyssaStarnes

15

i have a light inside of me. sometimes it is a prickly light. like last summer's berry picking, and your legs in the back of his pick up. sometimes it is a drowning light. like your third cheap beer, and jeans on the fourth of july. sometimes it is a dim light. like the pretty dress he never hugged you in, and the bruises all down your thigh. sometimes it is a calm light. like the first long drag off your cigarette, and a dry kiss on the cheek. sometimes it is a beautiful light, like a palm pushing out from your stomach, and the long road out of this town.

0

Jul 16, 2011

Jul 16, 2011 at 5:54 PM UTC

Sometime.

i have a light inside of me. sometimes it is a prickly light. like last summer's berry picking, and your legs in the back of his pick up. sometimes it is a drowning light. like your third cheap beer, and jeans on the fourth of july. sometimes it is a dim light. like the pretty dress he never hugged you in, and the bruises all down your thigh. sometimes it is a calm light. like the first long drag off your cigarette, and a dry kiss on the cheek. sometimes it is a beautiful light, like a palm pushing out from your stomach, and the long road out of this town.

16

sunset blushing, bleeding, rushing, can i come back into the garden yet? gradient fade, where i once laid, and lost the thorns to protect me. time was fast, on that dirt path, and now i'm covered in you. where i once bloomed, and laughed and swooned, is where i've now turned into weeds. ever mowing, ever growing, i can't get rid of me.

0

Apr 2, 2011

Apr 2, 2011 at 12:49 PM UTC

Garden.

sunset blushing, bleeding, rushing, can i come back into the garden yet? gradient fade, where i once laid, and lost the thorns to protect me. time was fast, on that dirt path, and now i'm covered in you. where i once bloomed, and laughed and swooned, is where i've now turned into weeds. ever mowing, ever growing, i can't get rid of me.

14

i want to see the pigment of your eyes what if they are more than i imagine? i want to feel the coarseness in your voice, reverberate against my soft skin what if it is more than i can fathom? i wish i could stop asking questions, but glad you make me ask them should i dye my hair a brilliant purple, tattoo 'crazy' on my collarbone, act like someone you just met, but have always known? there we go again, asking rhetorical questions because you can't answer when you have to hear across the clatter of all fifty states, wish for clean slates or some time in your bed, wake me, from the dead just like we play it, cause we're so demented our hearts are black, our breath cigarette scented we don't buy into religion, or this world we live in and the last thing i vest my faith in is you with your black and white art, the way you pull me apart and **** your heart is beautiful i devour you unusual and wish that i was what you craved made you this manic and depraved or at least that i could cure you that you might maybe pull through so we could spend our time together in the graveyards the sun would shine on our arms where we intertwined like vines fade like passing time and finally be alone finding solace in our home but i'm wasting precious hope, becoming my own ghost because i can't take what isn't mine so i'll get drunk off ancient wine, pretend that i am fine and wait for morning to face me, wait for scars to grace me and while you wait for C, i will save your seat on the shore of this warm ocean, cause i know your wounds are open and the salty brine of love and rhyme will heal them all, from me.

0

Feb 6, 2011

Feb 6, 2011 at 9:25 PM UTC

Wake.

i want to see the pigment of your eyes what if they are more than i imagine? i want to feel the coarseness in your voice, reverberate against my soft skin what if it is more than i can fathom? i wish i could stop asking questions, but glad you make me ask them should i dye my hair a brilliant purple, tattoo 'crazy' on my collarbone, act like someone you just met, but have always known? there we go again, asking rhetorical questions because you can't answer when you have to hear across the clatter of all fifty states, wish for clean slates or some time in your bed, wake me, from the dead just like we play it, cause we're so demented our hearts are black, our breath cigarette scented we don't buy into religion, or this world we live in and the last thing i vest my faith in is you with your black and white art, the way you pull me apart and **** your heart is beautiful i devour you unusual and wish that i was what you craved made you this manic and depraved or at least that i could cure you that you might maybe pull through so we could spend our time together in the graveyards the sun would shine on our arms where we intertwined like vines fade like passing time and finally be alone finding solace in our home but i'm wasting precious hope, becoming my own ghost because i can't take what isn't mine so i'll get drunk off ancient wine, pretend that i am fine and wait for morning to face me, wait for scars to grace me and while you wait for C, i will save your seat on the shore of this warm ocean, cause i know your wounds are open and the salty brine of love and rhyme will heal them all, from me.

46

all i want to do right now is fill my pack with some clothes, take my passport, all my saved cash, and that photo of us and go to you. we can get on a plane, and just get the **** out of here, just you and i. and we will go wherever we think looks pretty on the light-up screens in the airport. and once we get there we will be happy and alone, just like we like it. together. and the very best part is that we will be happy and alone together on the way there and the way back and all that time in between. and that is what i want to do right now.

0

Jan 30, 2011

Jan 30, 2011 at 9:03 PM UTC

Now.

all i want to do right now is fill my pack with some clothes, take my passport, all my saved cash, and that photo of us and go to you. we can get on a plane, and just get the **** out of here, just you and i. and we will go wherever we think looks pretty on the light-up screens in the airport. and once we get there we will be happy and alone, just like we like it. together. and the very best part is that we will be happy and alone together on the way there and the way back and all that time in between. and that is what i want to do right now.

3