as much as i don't have my ****
together (as much as i forget to
do my dishes or take out the
trash or breathe regularly) i
would have figured myself
out for you, would have
taught myself to be tidy
and small, would have
studied the art of
going a f u l l day
without having a
panic attack,
would h a v e
read up on
how to get
myself out
of bed and
i n t o the
s h o w e r
every day.
i haven't
watered my
plants since
the first week
o f j u n e.
Dec 21, 2022
Dec 21, 2022 at 4:55 PM UTC
The cold envelops my body
as I lay in my bed.
I shiver,
silently missing you
wishing you were here with me.
another dreamless night.
Dec 21, 2022
Dec 21, 2022 at 4:52 PM UTC
And something's changed,
but we're still the same,
you and me,
our hands fit just so
and I can feel your heart race
against my tired body.
It's been a few days now,
but I still feel your warmth
and taste your tears on my lips
from our evening in the car,
when for once,
I was holding you.
That night, the tables turned,
hell, the tables never cease;
but we're just the same,
we're still the same,
and our hands still lock together.
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 9:44 PM UTC
I confronted the space between us;
I looked her right in the eyes.
Perplexed, I questioned her existence,
but she gave me a sly smile.
*"If it's answers that you're after,
my dear, don't waste your breath.*
*Only time will sort and simmer
the mess inside your head."*
She turned and scurried off
before I could object;
But love, she got me thinking,
about the heart that I protect.
The walls built high around my heart,
the soldiers and their swords.
From whom am I so guarded?
Who do I fear the most?
My love who holds the power alone,
holds me close tonight.
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 9:40 PM UTC
This time, her apology came in the form
of a caramel macchiatto
on a Tuesday morning.
No words:
just scalding coffee and gritted teeth
received by timid fingers
and pursed lips.
And it was enough for me,
until I realized that
all the sugar packets in the state
couldn't sweeten her words
or soothe my burnt tongue.
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 9:17 PM UTC
This poem
I think to myself
as my shaking hand takes to the page,
*Will be about the day my father left,
my first day of college,
or even the way my hands shake when I write.*
I write six words,
scratch out seven more,
and continue until I notice
i'm left with
a sloppy "i
still
need
you."
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 9:48 PM UTC
*I remember sitting cross-legged
in the backyard with you,
stringing dandelions together
and lazily strumming my guitar
while you rested your head
on my thigh last summer.
I sang soft melodies
and you dreamt that time stopped
and we left this town together. . .*
but alas.
You're too practical,
and I'm too scared,
so here we go again.
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 10:24 PM UTC
You and I are the movie’s trailer,
the first lick of a dripping ice cream cone,
the first snow in winter.
We’re a beginning,
a preview of what could happen,
what would happen if our lives ever align.
But for now, I’m satisfied with
serendipitous blurs of visits,
occasional tastes of our favorite tea,
and the hope that I’ll enjoy
a fresh *** of Earl Grey
with you down this winding road.
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 8:53 PM UTC
January
More than anything else, I have to find me first;
but I don’t want to forget you.
February
"Don’t worry, I’ll tell you until there are no more words to say.”
You just shook your head.
I tried to explain when I woke up this morning
just beneath the surface,
but I’d lost my ability to speak.
How strange.
March
I dreamt of my very being
keeping the city safe
up until the day it rained.
April
I finally understood that Love herself
is a “four letter word”.
May
Well my darling,
I’ll have to forget me to know where I’ve gone.
Open your eyes.
*June
*
But now you’re gone, just a few days later,
to keep us both alive.
I held out the matches with no real reason why.
Just go.
July
Just like that, I watch your head spin.
My fingers tingle, and I can breathe.
*August
*
“How do you like it?”
It's falling together..
I’d seen it since the beginning.
Even so, I miss the days when things were simple.
September came and went with no evidence or new scars.
*October
*
Nature can’t make up her mind about me either.
I still have the pictures to prove it.
*November
*
The music is pure, but I barely notice.
*December
*
It’s beautiful,
Getting hopelessly lost
until I can barely distinguish my own penmanship.”
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 12:49 PM UTC