i wonder if the doors in the house you grew up in
started slamming themselves to save your father the trouble.
i wonder if you can remember the last time you prayed,
and if you had trouble unfolding your hands.
i wonder if your mother knows
about the collection of hearts you hide in your closet,
i wonder if she could tell mine apart from the rest.
i wonder if your shoes know the reason why
you keep them by the back door and not your bedside.
and sometimes, i wonder
if you ever think about that night when i told you,
you wouldn't need to drink so much if you had me.
but it seems like we only speak when you've got body on your brain,
whiskey in your glass,
your judgement is overcast,
and you know i'm too weak to ignore you.
i learned how to translate your texts
from drunken mess back into english.
i am fluent in apology, but i don't ask you for them anymore.
this is just how it is.
it's not enough for either of us
but ******* it we are not above settling.
so i will ignore her name on your breath,
and you will ignore the fact that this means something to me.
i always thought the first time i kissed you,
it would be on your mouth.
i just wanted to be something warm for you to sink into,
something that could convince you to stay a second night.
but i sneak you out in the early morning,
and you take a piece of my pride with you when you go.
i am left to nurse the hangover from a wine i've never tasted,
wondering how this is possible.
waiting for the next drunk call,
for the next time i get to pretend we are lovers,
the next time i get to live out the fantasy i am most ashamed of.
it is the one in my head where you want me when you're sober too.
- m.f.
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 9:49 AM UTC
Father,
are you not excited to see me?
I can see it in your eyes
as they turn away
and don't look at me.
I must've done something wrong.
Grandma's writing is getting shakier.
The days of praise
are long away,
And the only things told,
were never really said at all.
Happy Holidays,
From the Perez family.
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 5:58 PM UTC
do not date a girl
who writes.
she will internalize
everything,
carve poems
into your eyelashes
instead of
kissing them,
she will analyze you,
calculate age
from the rings
your coffee cup
leaves
instead of refilling it.
she will memorize
the way your
lips curl around steam,
but not that you
take it
two sugars,
no cream.
she will read your
palm instead of
holding it
against her chest.
she will not
blink
when you leave,
because she is
already
romanticizing it.
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 10:11 AM UTC
You focus on your flaws
not knowing
that without them all,
I wouldn't love you.
And every time you rear your ugly head,
I see diamonds
and gold,
Not you getting old.
And those scars
are art,
And your fat
a map,
of where my kids came from.
Your screams like a siren
sing me to sleep.
And your condescending tone
makes me want to **** you,
literally.
Don't pity me.
From your ashy knees,
to hearing you ***
I love you.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 1:37 PM UTC
Tell me more.
About the things you love,
Every feature of me that you adore,
My sly little creature.
Such sweet nothings were never meant to be something.
Discreet treats left from the first day we met,
That lead me to believe things that I had already grieved in my past.
Alas,
Another lass.
Oh, but this one is special.
She said things so nicely
And put me down so gentle,
My angelic monster,
I pick the flowers from your hair
The same way I sift through the lies,
That you swear
Are true.
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 6:31 PM UTC
Guess what I loathe the most
is the fact that what I love the most,
My furry thing who walks two-by-two,
Still likes to be scratched the places
you taught him to.
Guess it just goes to show you,
Why an old dog can't do new tricks.
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 12:21 PM UTC
I am but a spectacle of expectations.
Things I could be if I thought logically,
but let's not get ahead of ourselves.
Think back to when you wanted to better yourself,
did it work and did it hurt?
Overt efforts to covert homewreckers,
I ****** you,
But I think I ****** myself.
Save me from heaven,
I'm not the one you can help.
I'm not what you need.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
If you love me
I want you to hate me.
I need you to cry like you want to die.
I hate myself,
why would you love me?
Please reply!
But you won't be able,
without a lie,
or two.
It's just a fable
rooted in,
what you've read and pine
over.
It's over.
Once a lover,
now a loner.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 6:23 PM UTC