just-a-person - Hello Poetry

I want to be anonymous, a silhouette against the glass, the shadow in the hall, warm breath on the back of your neck. As soft as an owl feather, and as quiet as it’s wing, water slipping over smooth rocks, and the creature that waits unseen. I want to be a dream, the kind that you can’t remember, that leaves a taste in your mouth, and haunts you like a whisper. You will try to grasp me, but like sand I will slip away, leaving your hands colder than they were before, a feeling you’re going insane. Just when you think the light is on, that every shadow has been seen, that is when you will forget me, just like a bad dream.

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May 1, 2019

May 1, 2019 at 11:28 PM UTC

just-a-person

I Want to Be

I want to be anonymous, a silhouette against the glass, the shadow in the hall, warm breath on the back of your neck. As soft as an owl feather, and as quiet as it’s wing, water slipping over smooth rocks, and the creature that waits unseen. I want to be a dream, the kind that you can’t remember, that leaves a taste in your mouth, and haunts you like a whisper. You will try to grasp me, but like sand I will slip away, leaving your hands colder than they were before, a feeling you’re going insane. Just when you think the light is on, that every shadow has been seen, that is when you will forget me, just like a bad dream.

19

I’ll paint you a sky, blue, purple, grey, blush pink. I’ll paint you a skyline, tall buildings, lights, fog, to soften it. I’ll paint you a city, bustling, bright, alive, breathing. I’ll paint you a street, white lines, yellow cars, speeding. I’ll paint you a house. brick, old, cold, crumbling. I’ll paint you, hair down, eyes open, gazing, at the horizon.

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Apr 6, 2019

Apr 6, 2019 at 5:45 PM UTC

just-a-person

Paint You a City

I’ll paint you a sky, blue, purple, grey, blush pink. I’ll paint you a skyline, tall buildings, lights, fog, to soften it. I’ll paint you a city, bustling, bright, alive, breathing. I’ll paint you a street, white lines, yellow cars, speeding. I’ll paint you a house. brick, old, cold, crumbling. I’ll paint you, hair down, eyes open, gazing, at the horizon.

24

Holly leaves this time of year, red splashed on green walls. I miss the snow, my dear. She always fell so gently.

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Mar 3, 2019

Mar 3, 2019 at 10:38 PM UTC

just-a-person

New Years and Fresh Paint

Holly leaves this time of year, red splashed on green walls. I miss the snow, my dear. She always fell so gently.

4

I love the rain like this, when it hits the ground like a tempest, your skin like hot wax, and your eyes like flames. The air between us so still it could break. I wish I could pour my heart out but I don’t know how, as the night gets thicker and darker, the silence gets longer. If you are going to touch me, you better do it soon.

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Mar 3, 2019

Mar 3, 2019 at 10:36 PM UTC

just-a-person

Your Bedroom Floor

I love the rain like this, when it hits the ground like a tempest, your skin like hot wax, and your eyes like flames. The air between us so still it could break. I wish I could pour my heart out but I don’t know how, as the night gets thicker and darker, the silence gets longer. If you are going to touch me, you better do it soon.

14

You bet all your money on a lame horse, and cried when it never came through. You trust so much in miracles that you forget to trust yourself, and perhaps that is where I have let the candle set fire to the scented parchment, where I wrote my confessions down and sealed it with red lipstick; for you my love, always for you, but never soon enough or quite bold enough, and you want freedom as much as I do but, you never seem to believe in anything but the fire, and that includes me. So here we are, where the candle lies and, I find the smoke stings my lungs as much as everyone says. So you wanted to build a house and put everything you love into it. You thought you had the lucky numbers in your pocket but you forgot, that your ticket’s in the bedroom, next to the candle, and the lipstick stain.

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Nov 15, 2018

Nov 15, 2018 at 12:44 AM UTC

just-a-person

You are in Trouble

You bet all your money on a lame horse, and cried when it never came through. You trust so much in miracles that you forget to trust yourself, and perhaps that is where I have let the candle set fire to the scented parchment, where I wrote my confessions down and sealed it with red lipstick; for you my love, always for you, but never soon enough or quite bold enough, and you want freedom as much as I do but, you never seem to believe in anything but the fire, and that includes me. So here we are, where the candle lies and, I find the smoke stings my lungs as much as everyone says. So you wanted to build a house and put everything you love into it. You thought you had the lucky numbers in your pocket but you forgot, that your ticket’s in the bedroom, next to the candle, and the lipstick stain.

27

She does not wait, she moves, stars winking in the satin sky, grass soft in the rippling wind, and her breath is warm, at last.

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Jul 9, 2018

Jul 9, 2018 at 9:02 PM UTC

just-a-person

How to Love Her

She does not wait, she moves, stars winking in the satin sky, grass soft in the rippling wind, and her breath is warm, at last.

4

Drip drip drip, the water droplets, on the old claw foot bathtub, with the rusted pipes, drip drip drip, echoing through the room, like a voice, or a heartbeat, drip drip drip the hallway is empty, the old stone house, like a memory, drip drip drip, and the water is lukewarm, always.

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Mar 24, 2018

Mar 24, 2018 at 11:56 PM UTC

just-a-person

Claw Foot Bathtub

Drip drip drip, the water droplets, on the old claw foot bathtub, with the rusted pipes, drip drip drip, echoing through the room, like a voice, or a heartbeat, drip drip drip the hallway is empty, the old stone house, like a memory, drip drip drip, and the water is lukewarm, always.

23

They warned you that your blood would boil and your fingers would burn, but still you reached for their light like a drowning man at the bottom of a well, and tried to swallow them whole. I remember that sparkling night, when we watched a comet fall like a tear drop pulling open the sky, and I asked you what you wished for, even though I already knew the answer

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Mar 13, 2018

Mar 13, 2018 at 10:07 PM UTC

just-a-person

Did You Ever Touch the Stars Darling?

They warned you that your blood would boil and your fingers would burn, but still you reached for their light like a drowning man at the bottom of a well, and tried to swallow them whole. I remember that sparkling night, when we watched a comet fall like a tear drop pulling open the sky, and I asked you what you wished for, even though I already knew the answer

7

I tap my pen and click my teeth. When I draw your face it looks like you but not quite right. Maybe you have always had something missing behind your eyes, or maybe I was just not brave enough to see it. I could draw in your lips and your hands and claim that they are a study in anatomy, like one of those little wooden dolls on a stand. I could trace your eyelashes with too much care, and wish that my fingers would stop smudging the led, or stop shaking. Isn’t that the plight of being an artist? Trying to get what’s in your head on paper, before it becomes unbearable. I noticed the fine lines, the creases, the way the ink stayed on my hands. I scrubbed at it but still couldn’t remove it, your eyes watching me from the page.

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Feb 27, 2018

Feb 27, 2018 at 12:24 AM UTC

just-a-person

Mistakes in Paper and Ink

I tap my pen and click my teeth. When I draw your face it looks like you but not quite right. Maybe you have always had something missing behind your eyes, or maybe I was just not brave enough to see it. I could draw in your lips and your hands and claim that they are a study in anatomy, like one of those little wooden dolls on a stand. I could trace your eyelashes with too much care, and wish that my fingers would stop smudging the led, or stop shaking. Isn’t that the plight of being an artist? Trying to get what’s in your head on paper, before it becomes unbearable. I noticed the fine lines, the creases, the way the ink stayed on my hands. I scrubbed at it but still couldn’t remove it, your eyes watching me from the page.

25

I cannot pretend to know your heart, just as you do not know mine; the way that it pauses, or spins like a top, a tiny ballerina, on a grand wooden stage, dancing to a rhythm only she can hear, point- less resolution, and a bow to empty seats .

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Feb 25, 2018

Feb 25, 2018 at 11:59 PM UTC

just-a-person

The Ballerina

I cannot pretend to know your heart, just as you do not know mine; the way that it pauses, or spins like a top, a tiny ballerina, on a grand wooden stage, dancing to a rhythm only she can hear, point- less resolution, and a bow to empty seats .

13