lizz-parkinson - Hello Poetry

Your car was parked outside your parents' house. I just happened to notice. I just happened to be driving to my parents' house and thinking it was funny you still had that same car. We would drive without a destination we would put the seats back. where I wrote that note reminding myself, "remember, please, remember this feeling." We would play that same song. I thought about calling but we're grown now and have our own dogs. our own lawns. I hate to think that none of it was worth it but here we are in the same town, first time in 10 years and I still remember the song but I can't remember your smile.

0

Feb 15, 2019

Feb 15, 2019 at 12:26 PM UTC

Someday we'd have a dog and a yard.

Your car was parked outside your parents' house. I just happened to notice. I just happened to be driving to my parents' house and thinking it was funny you still had that same car. We would drive without a destination we would put the seats back. where I wrote that note reminding myself, "remember, please, remember this feeling." We would play that same song. I thought about calling but we're grown now and have our own dogs. our own lawns. I hate to think that none of it was worth it but here we are in the same town, first time in 10 years and I still remember the song but I can't remember your smile.

19

There's something to be said about Seeing your face for the first time in years and knowing That smile It's still for me.

0

Apr 29, 2017

Apr 29, 2017 at 8:22 AM UTC

While the world changes around us

There's something to be said about Seeing your face for the first time in years and knowing That smile It's still for me.

4

I wasn't even a star I wasn't even a boat I wasn't even a fish in your ocean I was a single-celled hyperthermophile in one of your many, many trenches.

0

Mar 28, 2017

Mar 28, 2017 at 6:07 PM UTC

I thought I was the sky above your sea once -

I wasn't even a star I wasn't even a boat I wasn't even a fish in your ocean I was a single-celled hyperthermophile in one of your many, many trenches.

10

I don’t know if you would love me more or love me less now I am stronger I am not afraid of spiders anymore. I run to keep from crying, but in the confines of my car at night, driving, I still listen to the Postal Service and do. I still keep a box full of notes you wrote I’m just not sure where it is- it’s no longer a need but a comfort. We existed. It was good. For a while. We ended. And it broke me For a long time. I don’t know if you would love me more or love me less now. Two out of three times I speak my mind. I make my own phone calls. I can sometimes talk to strangers. I wear the occasional dress now. I don’t hide my scars. I still can’t drive stick shift. I still say I’m spontaneous but rarely venture outside without meticulously laid plans. I still worry all the time about my future and how you won’t be in it. Once, that ruined me but now It’s more like the kind of sadness that sits right behind your eyes when you think about a place you used to love but haven’t visited in years. I don’t know if you would love me more or love me less now Maybe, not less, just from further and further away.

0

Mar 28, 2017

Mar 28, 2017 at 6:05 PM UTC

In case you're listening

I don’t know if you would love me more or love me less now I am stronger I am not afraid of spiders anymore. I run to keep from crying, but in the confines of my car at night, driving, I still listen to the Postal Service and do. I still keep a box full of notes you wrote I’m just not sure where it is- it’s no longer a need but a comfort. We existed. It was good. For a while. We ended. And it broke me For a long time. I don’t know if you would love me more or love me less now. Two out of three times I speak my mind. I make my own phone calls. I can sometimes talk to strangers. I wear the occasional dress now. I don’t hide my scars. I still can’t drive stick shift. I still say I’m spontaneous but rarely venture outside without meticulously laid plans. I still worry all the time about my future and how you won’t be in it. Once, that ruined me but now It’s more like the kind of sadness that sits right behind your eyes when you think about a place you used to love but haven’t visited in years. I don’t know if you would love me more or love me less now Maybe, not less, just from further and further away.

39

I watch you drive and ask if anyone can love. The way I love you When you sing a song you swear Was written for me. You touch my thigh and I have been drinking but Still This might be.

0

Sep 17, 2016

Sep 17, 2016 at 8:33 PM UTC

Autumn when the sun sets early

I watch you drive and ask if anyone can love. The way I love you When you sing a song you swear Was written for me. You touch my thigh and I have been drinking but Still This might be.

9

I can’t remember if I built walls to Keep from touching or Keep from being touched. Either way I don’t feel much now. And so I use the mirror to remind myself, (A morning ritual) I am more than just the parts he held, once. My eyes were always blue to get lost in. I am more than just a girl, Who was Maybe Loved once. But I still feel shallower for the days spent being Someone’s idea of me and not Myself. There are still songs I won't listen to.

0

Mar 11, 2016

Mar 11, 2016 at 10:17 AM UTC

A mixtape for another morning

I can’t remember if I built walls to Keep from touching or Keep from being touched. Either way I don’t feel much now. And so I use the mirror to remind myself, (A morning ritual) I am more than just the parts he held, once. My eyes were always blue to get lost in. I am more than just a girl, Who was Maybe Loved once. But I still feel shallower for the days spent being Someone’s idea of me and not Myself. There are still songs I won't listen to.

16

10 years later; When I look in the mirror, Or at the scars, Or I flinch at the touch of a stranger When I want desperately to hate you and I can’t. I am so sorry but it still matters.

0

Feb 11, 2016

Feb 11, 2016 at 5:36 PM UTC

You were 17 and you wrote a poem that proves you loved me.

10 years later; When I look in the mirror, Or at the scars, Or I flinch at the touch of a stranger When I want desperately to hate you and I can’t. I am so sorry but it still matters.

7

We don’t touch that often now. I always plan to leave my clothes on but you soon lose interest in the lines of my face; my eyes; my palms. I want to write you a novel on the sound of your laughter. The touch of your breath against my neck when you are sleeping and I try to ****** the night into staying- tomorrow we become silent and sinister again. I am sorry because I make myself ashamed when I should be causing a scene. I am worse for those hours spent silent in your sheets the way the night is worse for the moon; it’s so much clearer now. I am worse for the scars on my hands. I am worse, I am worse. I am worse.

0

Nov 6, 2015

Nov 6, 2015 at 4:58 PM UTC

A brief indulgence.

We don’t touch that often now. I always plan to leave my clothes on but you soon lose interest in the lines of my face; my eyes; my palms. I want to write you a novel on the sound of your laughter. The touch of your breath against my neck when you are sleeping and I try to ****** the night into staying- tomorrow we become silent and sinister again. I am sorry because I make myself ashamed when I should be causing a scene. I am worse for those hours spent silent in your sheets the way the night is worse for the moon; it’s so much clearer now. I am worse for the scars on my hands. I am worse, I am worse. I am worse.

11

I like to imagine I am a strong woman, most days. That my nieces will look up to me, some day. But I still look in the mirror and see you kissing those blond girls. I touch my skin and feel scars. I find myself whispering the same lies you used to tell me into my own ears. “You wouldn’t last a day without me. No one else will ever want you.” On those days, I run until my feet bleed. On those days, I forget I am a scientist, a teacher; In love. I think about your hands. I remember when I was not brave enough to utter just one single word that could have saved me. I like to imagine I am a strong woman, but I watch these girls hold their heads high when they walk and I am always counting the steps as they take me further away from you.

0

Nov 6, 2015

Nov 6, 2015 at 4:56 PM UTC

In some other town, she sings (still).

I like to imagine I am a strong woman, most days. That my nieces will look up to me, some day. But I still look in the mirror and see you kissing those blond girls. I touch my skin and feel scars. I find myself whispering the same lies you used to tell me into my own ears. “You wouldn’t last a day without me. No one else will ever want you.” On those days, I run until my feet bleed. On those days, I forget I am a scientist, a teacher; In love. I think about your hands. I remember when I was not brave enough to utter just one single word that could have saved me. I like to imagine I am a strong woman, but I watch these girls hold their heads high when they walk and I am always counting the steps as they take me further away from you.

17

I watched you cut me open. The anesthetic was local And I have seen my own bones broken But never with such precision and ease You stitched this up but it still bleeds. We choked and choked but still this breathes.

0

Aug 26, 2015

Aug 26, 2015 at 10:39 AM UTC

Graft

I watched you cut me open. The anesthetic was local And I have seen my own bones broken But never with such precision and ease You stitched this up but it still bleeds. We choked and choked but still this breathes.

9