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lindsay-olivieri
lindsay-olivieri
boogie woogie woman
you look at the stars so unaware of how you manifest their light
0
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 10:05 PM UTC
a haiku about stars and you
this is an alphabet of all the people who have dug holes in me, and of all the people who are still digging. this is a gardening guide for would-be lovers and pretty faces who do not even realize that they are carrying shovels. this is a weather forecast written from past experience, a reminder that winter is not kind on crops, no matter how firmly you pack the dirt. this is me, reflecting on seeds planted. this is me, reflecting on seeds left to die. A, i suppose it is fitting that the first letter is also the first person to show me what it is like to have seedlings sprouting up from inside you, the first person to show me just how deep you really have to dig to make the sting last. you never came back to water what you planted. H, i’d like to say to that i ripped out your roots with my own two hands; i’d like to give myself some credit in all this. you don’t look as lovely as you used to. you say i’ve grown distant. i’m sorry. J, you always feel like being on the verge of something big. you feel like summer, like a deep purple, a bath of darkness. you are everywhere that plants do not grow well. and i have always felt — and still do feel —  that that is such a grave injustice. still, though you cannot speak the word “devotion,” i beckon for more seeds. P, my greatest heartbreak. heartbreak, though, is but a flesh wound when seen from afar. and so i thank god for the miles between us. i can feign forgetfulness when you are far away. after all, what is a shovel in your hands if those hands cannot reach me? S, you are but a bud waiting to bloom. and yet again i find myself so very afraid of growth. (a.m.)
0
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 10:19 PM UTC
i must look a lot like soil
this is an alphabet of all the people who have dug holes in me, and of all the people who are still digging. this is a gardening guide for would-be lovers and pretty faces who do not even realize that they are carrying shovels. this is a weather forecast written from past experience, a reminder that winter is not kind on crops, no matter how firmly you pack the dirt. this is me, reflecting on seeds planted. this is me, reflecting on seeds left to die. A, i suppose it is fitting that the first letter is also the first person to show me what it is like to have seedlings sprouting up from inside you, the first person to show me just how deep you really have to dig to make the sting last. you never came back to water what you planted. H, i’d like to say to that i ripped out your roots with my own two hands; i’d like to give myself some credit in all this. you don’t look as lovely as you used to. you say i’ve grown distant. i’m sorry. J, you always feel like being on the verge of something big. you feel like summer, like a deep purple, a bath of darkness. you are everywhere that plants do not grow well. and i have always felt — and still do feel —  that that is such a grave injustice. still, though you cannot speak the word “devotion,” i beckon for more seeds. P, my greatest heartbreak. heartbreak, though, is but a flesh wound when seen from afar. and so i thank god for the miles between us. i can feign forgetfulness when you are far away. after all, what is a shovel in your hands if those hands cannot reach me? S, you are but a bud waiting to bloom. and yet again i find myself so very afraid of growth. (a.m.)
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Round and round on a mary go round This is just simple child's play There's only a slight chance that the grass is greener on the other side When you come around You are smiling so hard And joy is manifesting the air around you Growing up will never seem real Just like when we were walking through the park the other day and you looked up at me I saw you ten years ago on that swing set I remember asking if you wanted to get ice cream with me because it was such a hot day I was young and didn't know better Our bills are late and we are scrounging Living check to check was something you thought you would stop doing after moving out of your mother's house I remember the first time I took you out to dinner You refused to let me pay for you and then when I went to hold your hand you flenched because the last man that grabbed your hand was your stepfather and he wasn't doing it to comfort you like I was Days turned to nights and your tears never seemed to go away I couldn't stop apologizing and telling you that it was all my fault I am so sorry that I could not give you more I remember seeing your face as it went through the window My knees were stuck under the steering wheel and I couldn't move my neck, but I still saw that iconic glimmer in your eye Tragedy is beautifully terrifying Only good will come from this We seemed to fight through it all, why give it all up now? We were just starting to find our way out of the labyrinth, and I hadn't smoked one single cigarette in three months Five months after that I see you and your new lover at the same park we used to take walks in I am writing this in shambles at 3am in my apartment I am on my fifth cigarette We were like peas and carrots, but I was not sweet enough I was always pushing for us You never stopped giving up There is beauty in pessimism just like there is beauty in the sun The moon is as optimistic as the stars; maybe, just maybe we will see the sun rise
0
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 12:37 PM UTC
The Glass Is Half Empty
Round and round on a mary go round This is just simple child's play There's only a slight chance that the grass is greener on the other side When you come around You are smiling so hard And joy is manifesting the air around you Growing up will never seem real Just like when we were walking through the park the other day and you looked up at me I saw you ten years ago on that swing set I remember asking if you wanted to get ice cream with me because it was such a hot day I was young and didn't know better Our bills are late and we are scrounging Living check to check was something you thought you would stop doing after moving out of your mother's house I remember the first time I took you out to dinner You refused to let me pay for you and then when I went to hold your hand you flenched because the last man that grabbed your hand was your stepfather and he wasn't doing it to comfort you like I was Days turned to nights and your tears never seemed to go away I couldn't stop apologizing and telling you that it was all my fault I am so sorry that I could not give you more I remember seeing your face as it went through the window My knees were stuck under the steering wheel and I couldn't move my neck, but I still saw that iconic glimmer in your eye Tragedy is beautifully terrifying Only good will come from this We seemed to fight through it all, why give it all up now? We were just starting to find our way out of the labyrinth, and I hadn't smoked one single cigarette in three months Five months after that I see you and your new lover at the same park we used to take walks in I am writing this in shambles at 3am in my apartment I am on my fifth cigarette We were like peas and carrots, but I was not sweet enough I was always pushing for us You never stopped giving up There is beauty in pessimism just like there is beauty in the sun The moon is as optimistic as the stars; maybe, just maybe we will see the sun rise
Continue reading...
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