andisashayi - Hello Poetry

I thought about you today. There's not much left there for me after 3 years, but sitting in a brief silence and glancing about the space around me, I found that a piece of you resurfaced and lingered for a few moments before sinking back down into the crevices of my mind. You're truly gone, and I'm nothing like I used to be. Everything changes. There isn't a thing that doesn't come to pass.

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Jul 21, 2024

Jul 21, 2024 at 7:21 PM UTC

andisashayi

Changes

I thought about you today. There's not much left there for me after 3 years, but sitting in a brief silence and glancing about the space around me, I found that a piece of you resurfaced and lingered for a few moments before sinking back down into the crevices of my mind. You're truly gone, and I'm nothing like I used to be. Everything changes. There isn't a thing that doesn't come to pass.

1

You're everywhere Like toffee in my teeth, Like wine staining white like moss overgrown. You're everywhere, like the stench of old *** in a wooden outhouse Like ants on a countertop like toothpaste when I brush my teeth. You're everywhere, like the contents of a stomach spattered across a dashboard like the stern voice in my head like crumbs in bed everywhere like damp hair on a pillow like smoke in a burning room like pieces of something broken on the floor.

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Apr 22, 2023

Apr 22, 2023 at 1:14 PM UTC

andisashayi

Everywhere

You're everywhere Like toffee in my teeth, Like wine staining white like moss overgrown. You're everywhere, like the stench of old *** in a wooden outhouse Like ants on a countertop like toothpaste when I brush my teeth. You're everywhere, like the contents of a stomach spattered across a dashboard like the stern voice in my head like crumbs in bed everywhere like damp hair on a pillow like smoke in a burning room like pieces of something broken on the floor.

14

I suggested that we consider a world without the other, and put away these thoughts of Goodbye for good if that world looked harrowing enough. You finished too soon and went inside for a nap, away from the sun. On your list you'd written down a few kind things, and scratched out a thought mid-sentence. Mine was three pages long. "If you were to go...", it began

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Dec 29, 2021

Dec 29, 2021 at 9:11 AM UTC

You took your suitcase with you when I told you goodbye, and I think now of how much we argued over how it had never been unpacked. You wore the same skin from that autumn night on my birthday, till the last breaths of winter had passed from my bedroom. What do your garments look like? Even as you are, you're forever changing in my eyes and that is my gift to you: new clothes, fresh from a calm wind on that drooping line and ironed by the sun.

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Sep 5, 2021

Sep 5, 2021 at 4:58 PM UTC

andisashayi

Moths and silverfish

You took your suitcase with you when I told you goodbye, and I think now of how much we argued over how it had never been unpacked. You wore the same skin from that autumn night on my birthday, till the last breaths of winter had passed from my bedroom. What do your garments look like? Even as you are, you're forever changing in my eyes and that is my gift to you: new clothes, fresh from a calm wind on that drooping line and ironed by the sun.

4

You weren't answering any of my calls, so I made one more and let a stranger drive me around on quiet, damp roads in the pitter-patter of the rain you said wouldn't come. I took him to the very edge of love and then left him that night without even a touch, because he'd have dived in (eyes shut) if he had felt how hot my skin was.

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Aug 25, 2021

Aug 25, 2021 at 1:19 AM UTC

andisashayi

Eyes shut

You weren't answering any of my calls, so I made one more and let a stranger drive me around on quiet, damp roads in the pitter-patter of the rain you said wouldn't come. I took him to the very edge of love and then left him that night without even a touch, because he'd have dived in (eyes shut) if he had felt how hot my skin was.

4

I read today that most boomerangs aren't meant to come back. They're thrown and should fly precisely to where the thrower intended, preferably away. Boomerangs were born bent and angled, deformed with one wing shorter than the other, or longer than the other and more brazen. While in motion, these wings stay at war with each other as though they were not two parts of the same whole; A constant quarrel, brought on not by being discarded to the haphazard whim of the calm or anxious air, but by the indecision of which way to go when cast off from a home. In the end, it's the indecision that returns them, as it's difficult to keep going when you're not sure of which way you're going. When this is the case, back is where you're propelled, whether you're wanted there or not. And you're either welcomed by a pair of grateful hands, or (like today) left feeling around in the ground trying to get your bearings.

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Jul 14, 2021

Jul 14, 2021 at 3:33 PM UTC

andisashayi

Boomerangs

I read today that most boomerangs aren't meant to come back. They're thrown and should fly precisely to where the thrower intended, preferably away. Boomerangs were born bent and angled, deformed with one wing shorter than the other, or longer than the other and more brazen. While in motion, these wings stay at war with each other as though they were not two parts of the same whole; A constant quarrel, brought on not by being discarded to the haphazard whim of the calm or anxious air, but by the indecision of which way to go when cast off from a home. In the end, it's the indecision that returns them, as it's difficult to keep going when you're not sure of which way you're going. When this is the case, back is where you're propelled, whether you're wanted there or not. And you're either welcomed by a pair of grateful hands, or (like today) left feeling around in the ground trying to get your bearings.

8

Yesterday you shot paragons of (...) out of the sky like little birds for fear that they would salvage a home from our coarse touches and cool words This sharp light tastes nothing of you You were once the sentimental sort: erecting chairs outside, in the name of fresh air. Now, out in the open, it would be too easy to tell us apart We are butter and clay in the sun Oh yes, this light tastes nothing like you I stayed true, and you swallowed the birds whole

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Sep 18, 2020

Sep 18, 2020 at 8:06 PM UTC

andisashayi

Untitled

Yesterday you shot paragons of (...) out of the sky like little birds for fear that they would salvage a home from our coarse touches and cool words This sharp light tastes nothing of you You were once the sentimental sort: erecting chairs outside, in the name of fresh air. Now, out in the open, it would be too easy to tell us apart We are butter and clay in the sun Oh yes, this light tastes nothing like you I stayed true, and you swallowed the birds whole

11

morbidly, you whisper when asked for silence restless children fill their mouths with their forearms to **** the sound and almost choke on creased cotton sleeves What is there to do? I am high on the scent of this house.

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Aug 18, 2020

Aug 18, 2020 at 2:48 AM UTC

andisashayi

Day 8

morbidly, you whisper when asked for silence restless children fill their mouths with their forearms to **** the sound and almost choke on creased cotton sleeves What is there to do? I am high on the scent of this house.

7

I will follow you Learn you like a new language and speak it religiously It's easier to love a thing you don't know, easy to fall head over heels The things we do know, know us very well

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May 25, 2020

May 25, 2020 at 10:30 AM UTC

andisashayi

Strange things

I will follow you Learn you like a new language and speak it religiously It's easier to love a thing you don't know, easy to fall head over heels The things we do know, know us very well

5

You've found use for your head in these long days Banging it against the wall, and keeping in time with the hands of the clock When the battery runs dry you will use your imagination.

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Apr 10, 2020

Apr 10, 2020 at 6:57 PM UTC

andisashayi

Indefinitely

You've found use for your head in these long days Banging it against the wall, and keeping in time with the hands of the clock When the battery runs dry you will use your imagination.

3