e-copeland - Hello Poetry

He would never know that when he crosses his arms and arches his back, his shirt rides up and those two inches of skin between the bottom of his shirt and the top of his jeans is the place where my heart races and my voices leaves me and I become breathless.

0

Nov 8, 2016

Nov 8, 2016 at 11:08 AM UTC

Uneven Playing Field

He would never know that when he crosses his arms and arches his back, his shirt rides up and those two inches of skin between the bottom of his shirt and the top of his jeans is the place where my heart races and my voices leaves me and I become breathless.

10

He called me his little stained glass window. Said you needed light to truly see my beauty. Said I was created from broken pieces of glass. Said I was crafted, carefully placed to create a miraculous image. He didn't tell me someday someone would come along with a light. They would shine so brightly for the whole world to see my beauty. But they would shine too brightly, their light a flame. It would burn my frame and melt my edges. My body, the church, would be a pile of ash and melted glass. He should have called me his little phoenix. He should have told me of my magnificent feathers of gold and scarlet. He should have warned the flame that burning me would do no good, that from the ashes I would rise up again.

0

Oct 27, 2016

Oct 27, 2016 at 12:00 PM UTC

Rise Again

He called me his little stained glass window. Said you needed light to truly see my beauty. Said I was created from broken pieces of glass. Said I was crafted, carefully placed to create a miraculous image. He didn't tell me someday someone would come along with a light. They would shine so brightly for the whole world to see my beauty. But they would shine too brightly, their light a flame. It would burn my frame and melt my edges. My body, the church, would be a pile of ash and melted glass. He should have called me his little phoenix. He should have told me of my magnificent feathers of gold and scarlet. He should have warned the flame that burning me would do no good, that from the ashes I would rise up again.

14

“I would compare falling out of love more to coming home from war. It is a slow process, but then suddenly it is gone. You prepare for months and weeks to return from war. The days seem to drag. And then you’re home and you have no idea what to do with yourself. You can spend forever fighting with the one you love, trying to make them stay, trying to remind them who they were, but then suddenly it’s over and they’re gone. And akin to loud noises seeming like gunshots, people’s voices sound too much like theirs and certain songs sound like them coming home. It is hell. And I’m not sure it ever goes away. Maybe you drown out the similar voices and you learn new songs, but one day you hear a gunshot ring out, and you’re back where you started.”

0

Oct 25, 2016

Oct 25, 2016 at 10:15 AM UTC

Untitled

“I would compare falling out of love more to coming home from war. It is a slow process, but then suddenly it is gone. You prepare for months and weeks to return from war. The days seem to drag. And then you’re home and you have no idea what to do with yourself. You can spend forever fighting with the one you love, trying to make them stay, trying to remind them who they were, but then suddenly it’s over and they’re gone. And akin to loud noises seeming like gunshots, people’s voices sound too much like theirs and certain songs sound like them coming home. It is hell. And I’m not sure it ever goes away. Maybe you drown out the similar voices and you learn new songs, but one day you hear a gunshot ring out, and you’re back where you started.”

1

1. My mother’s mirror makes me look way better than any other mirror. I’m half convinced she put a spell on it or had it blessed to make me feel more beautiful. The way it reflects the light puts green specks in my eyes and a rosy sheen on my cheeks. It makes my hair look softer, my edges smoother. It takes away those fifteen stubborn pounds. I think, maybe, it just reflects my mother’s love. 2. Red headed boys have it out for me. I have had my heart broken five times and four of those were by red headed boys. **** you, Ronald Weasley for igniting such an infatuation-no, obsession-at such a young age. It seems that no matter how badly the fire burns, I always seek out another flame. 3. The people who pass on before us are allowed to paint the sky when they feel like it is needed. Part of your welcome to heaven package is a paint brush. My papaw frequently sends me glorious sunsets and starry nights when he knows I’m feeling sad. 4. The first time a rough boy put his hands on me, he didn’t do so in a mean way. We were young and he pretended to know what he was doing/pretended that it wasn’t wrong. The second time, he realized he now had control over me. Though I was never forced, I was manipulated. I do not cry **** but I still cry. 5. Growing up Catholic taught me that *** before marriage is wrong. What if part of me thinks *** in general is wrong? What if I can’t take the *** without imaging the unwanted hands all over me? What if my mistakes have made me into an unlovable monster? What if I am too weak to say no to *** and too weak to say yes to love? What if I can fall in love or fall in *** but never both? 6. My mother’s mirror makes me look way better than any other mirror. I know it is because I see my reflection the way my mother sees me: beautiful, strong, unbroken.

0

Sep 13, 2016

Sep 13, 2016 at 1:56 PM UTC

A list of things I believe to be true.

1. My mother’s mirror makes me look way better than any other mirror. I’m half convinced she put a spell on it or had it blessed to make me feel more beautiful. The way it reflects the light puts green specks in my eyes and a rosy sheen on my cheeks. It makes my hair look softer, my edges smoother. It takes away those fifteen stubborn pounds. I think, maybe, it just reflects my mother’s love. 2. Red headed boys have it out for me. I have had my heart broken five times and four of those were by red headed boys. **** you, Ronald Weasley for igniting such an infatuation-no, obsession-at such a young age. It seems that no matter how badly the fire burns, I always seek out another flame. 3. The people who pass on before us are allowed to paint the sky when they feel like it is needed. Part of your welcome to heaven package is a paint brush. My papaw frequently sends me glorious sunsets and starry nights when he knows I’m feeling sad. 4. The first time a rough boy put his hands on me, he didn’t do so in a mean way. We were young and he pretended to know what he was doing/pretended that it wasn’t wrong. The second time, he realized he now had control over me. Though I was never forced, I was manipulated. I do not cry **** but I still cry. 5. Growing up Catholic taught me that *** before marriage is wrong. What if part of me thinks *** in general is wrong? What if I can’t take the *** without imaging the unwanted hands all over me? What if my mistakes have made me into an unlovable monster? What if I am too weak to say no to *** and too weak to say yes to love? What if I can fall in love or fall in *** but never both? 6. My mother’s mirror makes me look way better than any other mirror. I know it is because I see my reflection the way my mother sees me: beautiful, strong, unbroken.

6

and pressing your lips to someone does not state your claim on them. it just makes you another sea sick, journey torn pilgrim happy to have something steady to hold on to for the first time in forever.

0

Jan 25, 2016

Jan 25, 2016 at 11:24 AM UTC

to you

and pressing your lips to someone does not state your claim on them. it just makes you another sea sick, journey torn pilgrim happy to have something steady to hold on to for the first time in forever.

4

I used to feel so sad when you kissed me... that's not right, is it?

0

Dec 30, 2015

Dec 30, 2015 at 2:05 AM UTC

wrong mouth

I used to feel so sad when you kissed me... that's not right, is it?

2

I woke up this morning and I was sad. I’m not asking you to fix that, I’m just asking that you love me until I’m happy again. Then stay and love me until I’m sad again. Over. And over. And over again.

0

Dec 30, 2015

Dec 30, 2015 at 2:03 AM UTC

relationship goals

I woke up this morning and I was sad. I’m not asking you to fix that, I’m just asking that you love me until I’m happy again. Then stay and love me until I’m sad again. Over. And over. And over again.

7

Sometimes I wonder if the messages you typed to me saying, “never leave me babe!” and “you’re my whole world” and “i’ll love you forever” have found their way into her phone.

0

Dec 30, 2015

Dec 30, 2015 at 1:44 AM UTC

I wish I didn't remember the way you smelled

Sometimes I wonder if the messages you typed to me saying, “never leave me babe!” and “you’re my whole world” and “i’ll love you forever” have found their way into her phone.

1

I was nothing more than the flower you plucked from the ground and tore apart petal by petal. I was nothing more than a car wreck, a heaping mass of metal and broken glass; You couldn’t help but stare as you drove by, but a couple miles down the road I was forgotten. I was nothing more than a body to fill the blank space in your bed. I was nothing more than another number on your list, another one of your conquests. I was nothing more than the ****** up girl who fell hard and fell through your fingers. I was nothing.

0

Dec 30, 2015

Dec 30, 2015 at 1:42 AM UTC

you didn't have to tell me you loved me if you didn't mean it

I was nothing more than the flower you plucked from the ground and tore apart petal by petal. I was nothing more than a car wreck, a heaping mass of metal and broken glass; You couldn’t help but stare as you drove by, but a couple miles down the road I was forgotten. I was nothing more than a body to fill the blank space in your bed. I was nothing more than another number on your list, another one of your conquests. I was nothing more than the ****** up girl who fell hard and fell through your fingers. I was nothing.

6

I fell in love with your groggy voice saying, "Don't fall asleep on me." I fell in love with the theory of something "more than us" and your alternate universe. I fell in love with you singing under your breath, passing the hours up late on the phone. I fell in love. I didn't mean to. I didn't realize it. But now I'm too far gone.

0

Dec 17, 2015

Dec 17, 2015 at 7:23 PM UTC

Unintentional emotions

I fell in love with your groggy voice saying, "Don't fall asleep on me." I fell in love with the theory of something "more than us" and your alternate universe. I fell in love with you singing under your breath, passing the hours up late on the phone. I fell in love. I didn't mean to. I didn't realize it. But now I'm too far gone.

10