love tasted different on your lips,
sweeter, and more kind,
smooth going down.
there's a softness in your heart,
a place I'd never been to before,
the oceans in your eyes, so blue
I drown in them,
hands that I could hold onto,
and arms that keep me safe.
but why is it now that
every time you make me laugh,
I cough up blood?
there's a thunderstorm in your heart and
a hurricane in your mind.
my umbrella can't keep us safe from the storms
raging under your skin.
Nov 4, 2019
Nov 4, 2019 at 5:51 PM UTC
you can’t hold onto dead things forever,
someone should’ve told you that.
before you planted all those flowers for a boy who left you
standing in the rain with a handful of dead roses.
Nov 4, 2019
Nov 4, 2019 at 5:46 PM UTC
my mother always said,
“home is where your heart is”.
I never realized what that meant
until it’s foundation unexpectedly built itself around
the way you made me laugh harder than anyone else ever has
And the fact that
the walls of my residence raised themselves
With you inside them.
I was fearless when I met you,
but now
I cower in the dark
out of terror
at the thought of the
trees above us collapsing
onto the roof in the middle of the storm.
I used to sleep peacefully,
But now I toss and turn all night,
Waking up every hour,
In a cold sweat,
Thinking
“What if you lose the keys and never come back”
Love was always just a word,
but it became something more when I looked at you.
It struck the trees,
burned a hole right through the center,
and ignited a flame that never went out,
even when it rained.
But with the rain comes
Thunder, lightning,
Darkness, frigity,
Blood, bone,
And tears that would flood the basement.
The wind huffed and puffed,
And blew my whole notion of a house down,
Shaking my home
so violently,
That it stripped the carpet
Inch by inch,
And the outside,
brick by brick
Until you moved out because
Our sanctuary
Had became an inhabitable living space.
The weather is dangerous and always changing,
And despite the fact you try,
you can’t save everything from the storm.
No matter how hard I will try to keep the floorboards from coming up,
And how hard I will try to keep the shingles on the roof from coming apart,
An umbrella can’t stop a hurricane,
A child with a hose can’t stop a wildfire,
A lit match can’t stop a blizzard,
A band aid can’t heal a **** that will never stop bleeding,
And my house,
No matter how many times I rebuild it,
Will never stop burning to the ground.
Nov 4, 2019
Nov 4, 2019 at 5:45 PM UTC
i can feel you
distancing yourself from me
i can feel continental drift
i wonder, do the shoes
you wear to run from me
have holes in them?
or do you go barefoot
careful not to make a sound
in your retreat. "cover your tracks & don't look back" i imagine
your demons whisper daily
as you are growing fond of me
i wonder if your heart puts up a fight when you want to see me
or if it's a massacre
& the demons dance
on dreams you have
of us holding hands
do you wander to your car
only to find yourself back in bed?
do you put your makeup on
just to take if off again?
is your imagination of me
a graveyard, or a pair of open arms
that are inches away
but just out of reach?
you see, what i've been so afraid
to tell you for so long,
why i feign sometimes
before speaking
careful not to tell you
all my unspoken promises,
it has to do with the night you had your head on my chest and confessed you never thought my heart
could beat like hummingbird wings:
i apologize for my silence
what i've been trying to say
is that my heart hasn't slowed down
since the day we drank coffee together
continents apart
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 3:29 PM UTC
kissing you was like swerving into oncoming traffic
i can never tell if i am more haunted by empty picture frames or the ashes of their contents
you taught me that the saying "pick your battles" meant not answering when love was at the door
sometimes when i drink whiskey i swear i can hear your voice in the creases of my bedsheets & i sleep on the floor
i still catch myself running my hands over things you touched the most, looking for the echoes of your fingertips
i practice things i'll never say to you
i remember the day you told me you didn't like poetry, how "everything's already been said" & how "nothing meaningful can be captured without being cliche" you know, i don't miss you like the sun and moon, i do not miss you like tide bent waves crashing on the shoreline, i miss you like a chernobyl swingset misses children
rumor has it that drowning is a lot like coming home, that drinking bleach can **** the butterflies in your stomach
for your love of cigarettes, i would have been an ashtray
this halloween i want to dress up as the you when you loved yourself and show up on your doorstep
i never understood what you meant when you said i was an instrument, back when you would cup your hands around my chest and breathe through the holes in my heart, i still wonder if the sounds i made remind you of wind chimes
i never paid much attention to abandoned buildings until i became one
in my dreams all the flowers smell like your perfume
i am the only person who has ever wished for the same snowflake to fall twice
if i could go back, and rewrite the definition of audacity, it would be how when we lost the bet of love, you said "we never shook on it"
i love you, if the feeling is not mutual, please pretend this was a poem
the only apology i want from you, is to have you repeat the names of children we will never have in your parents living room until they *****
we are the same person if you find yourself up at 4am dry heaving promises, or if you are kept awake by the laughter of those who've abandoned you
nobody ever told you that goodbyes taste like the back of stamps
sometimes i'm convinced that the only reason we hug, is so you can check my back for exit wounds
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 2:49 PM UTC
Black holes use everything and anything they can to fill their emptiness. No matter how much they take, they're still empty.
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 6:48 AM UTC
I know how you can't forget the way he looked at you when he thought you were the sun, moon and all the stars.
Tell me about how he still thinks you're the sun and if he looks at you long enough, he fears he'll go blind.
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 6:45 AM UTC
“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.”
― Friedrich Nietzsche
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 6:33 AM UTC
She's the kind of girl that laughs at her own jokes.
Not in the way where you are left thinking
she is the center of her own universe
but in a way that makes her the center of yours.
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 4:30 AM UTC
I sat next to a boy with the prettiest hands on the bus; I
was too scared to look him in the eye. They reminded me of
yours, thin and pale and with veins laced through them of
the palest lilac. I sat across from a woman on the train
today and her eyes were the most captivating thing I'd ever
seen, a sparkling amber that caught gold in the light. But
it wasn't until I followed her off onto the platform and saw
the stretch marks, like bolts of lightning, like cravasses in
a cliffside, the same stretch marks that you hate so much on
your own skin, the ones i trace with the tips of my fingers
as we attempt to inhale each other, between her shirt hem
and pants' waistline, that I realized just how much she
looked like you. I see you everywhere, and in everyone.
One shade of your eyes glinting in a passing subject sends me
into crippling nostalgia for the wet sparkling I saw when you
told me how beautiful I was for the last time. I never took
that chance to tell you just how beautiful your hands, your
eyes, your flaws are. I can't believe I never took the chance
to let you know just how beautiful I find you, because I
have a fear I never will.
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 3:27 PM UTC