m-6 - Hello Poetry

i am running out of ways to try to get you to kiss me back your eyelids are very soft and shot with purple veins and they look like the first morning after rain i am willing to wait after all this it’s hard to know whether you care about me anymore but i am waiting for you once again i am running out of time the first time i told you that i loved you i wanted to cry a little and maybe i should have but i was already in your arms and it felt like something slipped inside of me i am learning to listen to what my body is telling me i am running out

0

Aug 26, 2014

Aug 26, 2014 at 1:49 AM UTC

hourglass

i am running out of ways to try to get you to kiss me back your eyelids are very soft and shot with purple veins and they look like the first morning after rain i am willing to wait after all this it’s hard to know whether you care about me anymore but i am waiting for you once again i am running out of time the first time i told you that i loved you i wanted to cry a little and maybe i should have but i was already in your arms and it felt like something slipped inside of me i am learning to listen to what my body is telling me i am running out

9

her grandmother’s hand feels like an overripe peach and there’s not much behind her glossy eyes. the nursing home smells like disinfectant and the powdery smell of old women. jane tucks her feet under her chair as she watches the vacant stare on her grandmother’s face and wonders if her grandmother will notice when she stops coming. the soft buzz of television and the chatter of nurses feels very far away and the room feels too big for the two of them. jane’s grandmother raised her when her own parents were too drunk or coked up to remember they had even had a daughter and her first, second, third stroke had left her soft and empty. jane kisses her forehead, leaving a strawberry-colored mark on her grandmother’s pale skin and she slips a paperweight from the nurse’s desk into the pocket of her dress the coat is heavy and camel-colored and hangs off jane’s small figure, nearly obscuring her. the collar nestles under her ears and she’s warm, even in the chill of the dusty second-hand shop down the street, with the watery-eyed cashier who watches her suspiciously and waits for his cigarette break. the weight is comforting and she hugs it in closer to her before removing it and stroking the shiny polyester lining. jane waits a few minutes before she pulls out a bundle of carefully stacked bills and quietly buys the overcoat without making eye contact. at home, jane’s neat handwriting fills the last page of the journal she’s been keeping for the past few months. from her desk drawer she pulls two more of the same. the details of her life coat the pages and it occurs to her how small, how ordered, how utterly unremarkable her days have been. this elicits no real emotion and jane pours herself a half glass of wine and lies on the couch, fully clothed, and breathes so slowly her chest hardly moves. she wonders if it will hurt. she places the coat on her neatly-made bed and stands in front of her bathroom mirror. her hair is long enough to touch the waistband of her skirt and it tangles over her shoulders and back like a mass of seaweed before she gathers it into a ponytail and snips it off, just beneath her ears. there’s nearly ten inches of her soft hair in her fist and in the mirror jane looks sharper and meaner than before. she takes the same scissors and cuts a slit in the hem of the coat and drops the hair into the space between the lining and the thick wool. next falls the paperweight, the journals, a bottle of pills she will no longer take twice daily. the coat is sewn up with small, neat stitches. down the road from the home is a wide stretch of anemic sand and silvery water. the breeze off the ocean tugs and twists the coat like the hands of insistent children yet jane walks solidly on, feeling more opaque than she has in years. the rocks along the beach are smooth and slightly warm from the sun and she slips the most beautiful into her pockets as she nears the sleepy waves of the shore. jane never stops walking. her shoes are the first to become soaked but soon the water infiltrates her hemline, her waist, her chest, her neck. the short strands of her once flowing hair float momentarily before the water slips over her head like a sheet. jane’s body does not float, does not struggle, does not resurface.

0

Aug 26, 2014

Aug 26, 2014 at 1:47 AM UTC

jane doe

her grandmother’s hand feels like an overripe peach and there’s not much behind her glossy eyes. the nursing home smells like disinfectant and the powdery smell of old women. jane tucks her feet under her chair as she watches the vacant stare on her grandmother’s face and wonders if her grandmother will notice when she stops coming. the soft buzz of television and the chatter of nurses feels very far away and the room feels too big for the two of them. jane’s grandmother raised her when her own parents were too drunk or coked up to remember they had even had a daughter and her first, second, third stroke had left her soft and empty. jane kisses her forehead, leaving a strawberry-colored mark on her grandmother’s pale skin and she slips a paperweight from the nurse’s desk into the pocket of her dress the coat is heavy and camel-colored and hangs off jane’s small figure, nearly obscuring her. the collar nestles under her ears and she’s warm, even in the chill of the dusty second-hand shop down the street, with the watery-eyed cashier who watches her suspiciously and waits for his cigarette break. the weight is comforting and she hugs it in closer to her before removing it and stroking the shiny polyester lining. jane waits a few minutes before she pulls out a bundle of carefully stacked bills and quietly buys the overcoat without making eye contact. at home, jane’s neat handwriting fills the last page of the journal she’s been keeping for the past few months. from her desk drawer she pulls two more of the same. the details of her life coat the pages and it occurs to her how small, how ordered, how utterly unremarkable her days have been. this elicits no real emotion and jane pours herself a half glass of wine and lies on the couch, fully clothed, and breathes so slowly her chest hardly moves. she wonders if it will hurt. she places the coat on her neatly-made bed and stands in front of her bathroom mirror. her hair is long enough to touch the waistband of her skirt and it tangles over her shoulders and back like a mass of seaweed before she gathers it into a ponytail and snips it off, just beneath her ears. there’s nearly ten inches of her soft hair in her fist and in the mirror jane looks sharper and meaner than before. she takes the same scissors and cuts a slit in the hem of the coat and drops the hair into the space between the lining and the thick wool. next falls the paperweight, the journals, a bottle of pills she will no longer take twice daily. the coat is sewn up with small, neat stitches. down the road from the home is a wide stretch of anemic sand and silvery water. the breeze off the ocean tugs and twists the coat like the hands of insistent children yet jane walks solidly on, feeling more opaque than she has in years. the rocks along the beach are smooth and slightly warm from the sun and she slips the most beautiful into her pockets as she nears the sleepy waves of the shore. jane never stops walking. her shoes are the first to become soaked but soon the water infiltrates her hemline, her waist, her chest, her neck. the short strands of her once flowing hair float momentarily before the water slips over her head like a sheet. jane’s body does not float, does not struggle, does not resurface.

5

I. The first time I found the bag of needles and powder in her backpack I left and said I would never come back but she found me sleeping in the cemetery that night just like I always did when things were bad especially at home. I said a lot of times that I would never come back and I always did. She said a lot of times that she would stop and she never did. I still remember every plane of her face from feeling it in the dark. I wonder if she's okay but I can't care anymore. II. I liked how she felt in bed and I liked how I felt in bed with her. III. She called me at 4am a few times and talked to me so quickly I only caught half the words she was speaking and I couldn't stop smiling but when we hung up the room felt much emptier than before. IV. The gun looks absolutely nothing like a toy in her hand despite what I always read. I wonder where she got it but my mind is more focused on other things like the slick chill of the metal against my face and her carefully painted lips very close to mine. I'm torn between staying perfectly still and trying to kiss her and while I try to decide she takes off the safety. It is at this exact moment that I realize how unstable she is and I know I've never been able to predict her actions, only her lies. I have no idea what she might do next and I love her.

0

Apr 13, 2014

Apr 13, 2014 at 10:29 PM UTC

remembering

I. The first time I found the bag of needles and powder in her backpack I left and said I would never come back but she found me sleeping in the cemetery that night just like I always did when things were bad especially at home. I said a lot of times that I would never come back and I always did. She said a lot of times that she would stop and she never did. I still remember every plane of her face from feeling it in the dark. I wonder if she's okay but I can't care anymore. II. I liked how she felt in bed and I liked how I felt in bed with her. III. She called me at 4am a few times and talked to me so quickly I only caught half the words she was speaking and I couldn't stop smiling but when we hung up the room felt much emptier than before. IV. The gun looks absolutely nothing like a toy in her hand despite what I always read. I wonder where she got it but my mind is more focused on other things like the slick chill of the metal against my face and her carefully painted lips very close to mine. I'm torn between staying perfectly still and trying to kiss her and while I try to decide she takes off the safety. It is at this exact moment that I realize how unstable she is and I know I've never been able to predict her actions, only her lies. I have no idea what she might do next and I love her.

4

i miss you and this is as much poetry as there is in me

0

Apr 7, 2014

Apr 7, 2014 at 8:13 PM UTC

today

i miss you and this is as much poetry as there is in me

1

i try to look in the mirror before i leave but i barely recognize the face staring back. my skin looks too thin for my face and my eyes are not as bright as they used to be. i like the way my ribs ****** through the skin of my torso. the party is loud and slightly sweaty and no one seems to mind much that i’ve barely said a word and i don’t mind either but i want to go home, home with my soft bed and the quiet dark of my room and home where i can be alone. a girl i haven’t talked to in months nudges me and yells over the music God youre such a ****** with her wide teasing smile as i eat a tortilla chip and she doesn’t know that all i’ve eaten in the past six days is half of a small apple, in tiny precise bites she doesn’t know outside it’s cold and sharp and i wish i’d worn a longer dress or a coat and the only one out there is james who sometimes stares at me a little too long. he’s smoking as usual and he passes it without a word. i’ve had a few too many drinks and soon we’re laying in the damp grass and im crying and i admit how hungry, how ******* hungry i am, and he’s very quiet until he kisses me helplessly and i can’t stop crying it’s been over a year now and food is not my enemy anymore. we’re not friends but i can eat now and i let myself buy lunch a few weeks ago and i laughed along with everyone and didn’t think much about the calories passing my lips and it felt good baby steps, baby bites everything is becoming okay

0

Apr 7, 2014

Apr 7, 2014 at 8:04 PM UTC

bites

i try to look in the mirror before i leave but i barely recognize the face staring back. my skin looks too thin for my face and my eyes are not as bright as they used to be. i like the way my ribs ****** through the skin of my torso. the party is loud and slightly sweaty and no one seems to mind much that i’ve barely said a word and i don’t mind either but i want to go home, home with my soft bed and the quiet dark of my room and home where i can be alone. a girl i haven’t talked to in months nudges me and yells over the music God youre such a ****** with her wide teasing smile as i eat a tortilla chip and she doesn’t know that all i’ve eaten in the past six days is half of a small apple, in tiny precise bites she doesn’t know outside it’s cold and sharp and i wish i’d worn a longer dress or a coat and the only one out there is james who sometimes stares at me a little too long. he’s smoking as usual and he passes it without a word. i’ve had a few too many drinks and soon we’re laying in the damp grass and im crying and i admit how hungry, how ******* hungry i am, and he’s very quiet until he kisses me helplessly and i can’t stop crying it’s been over a year now and food is not my enemy anymore. we’re not friends but i can eat now and i let myself buy lunch a few weeks ago and i laughed along with everyone and didn’t think much about the calories passing my lips and it felt good baby steps, baby bites everything is becoming okay

7

my mouth tastes like pennies and your hand is too warm on my thigh under your parents table and i wish you would move it and i know the way you squeeze softly would be attractive to other girls but i am not other girls i used to read books out loud to you and when i stumbled over words you would stroke my hair and i don’t think you even heard a word i was saying you say you love math because there is no uncertainty and i think about how i am never a fixed point and i wonder if this is why you’re not always there when i wake up you tell me you know me better than myself my face feels too tight and flushed and i am not a crier but i wish i was now you like to control me and i like to control me and i feel guilty for this her lips look very soft on your cheek and it’s been a few months but i remember you never let me kiss you in public. she has bigger eyes than me and i still think about you there are 2 bottles of sleeping pills and my favorite knife and a pack of cigarettes under my bed and i kissed a boy whose name i don’t know last weekend and it felt good i haven’t cried myself to sleep in three weeks your hand is too high up on my leg and i want to go home

0

Mar 27, 2014

Mar 27, 2014 at 9:27 AM UTC

iron

my mouth tastes like pennies and your hand is too warm on my thigh under your parents table and i wish you would move it and i know the way you squeeze softly would be attractive to other girls but i am not other girls i used to read books out loud to you and when i stumbled over words you would stroke my hair and i don’t think you even heard a word i was saying you say you love math because there is no uncertainty and i think about how i am never a fixed point and i wonder if this is why you’re not always there when i wake up you tell me you know me better than myself my face feels too tight and flushed and i am not a crier but i wish i was now you like to control me and i like to control me and i feel guilty for this her lips look very soft on your cheek and it’s been a few months but i remember you never let me kiss you in public. she has bigger eyes than me and i still think about you there are 2 bottles of sleeping pills and my favorite knife and a pack of cigarettes under my bed and i kissed a boy whose name i don’t know last weekend and it felt good i haven’t cried myself to sleep in three weeks your hand is too high up on my leg and i want to go home

10

I was raised in a strictly religious household and I privately thought that being gay was okay but I knew that most people in my religious community disagree. I admitted to myself when I was about 17 (I'm 18 now) that I was attracted to girls (I'm also Gray-A, meaning I experience limited ****** attraction) and this year I came out to a few close friends. My parents views on LGBT rights (that is, that "being gay is a choice" and "gays are destroying the sanctity of marriage", etc) influence me heavily, but in a negative way- they make me feel unsafe and I know I can't come out to them now or they might kick me out (my mom told my sister once that if any of us were gay we wouldn't be welcome. she also referenced my trans friend as being 'confused' and things like that). The 8 or so friends I've told have been accepting but I know they see me differently and I feel uncomfortable telling boys because there's an expectation that lesbians are more inclined to ****** activity (think lesbian **** and are often fetishized, things like that. I still go to church but it makes me miserable because people hate gays there and make insensitive comments, not realizing that they make me feel pretty terrible for being who I am. I've also suffered from major depression for about 6 years and part of what made it worse throughout junior high and high school was having to suppress my identity and the constant fear I face in my home and community. You never know who's going to hate you, reject you, or even attack you for being gay. The internet (tumblr, mainly) provides a more welcoming community than I find elsewhere so at least I have that forum to express myself.

0

Mar 20, 2014

Mar 20, 2014 at 9:08 PM UTC

I filled out a survey about sexuality and I want to save my response-

I was raised in a strictly religious household and I privately thought that being gay was okay but I knew that most people in my religious community disagree. I admitted to myself when I was about 17 (I'm 18 now) that I was attracted to girls (I'm also Gray-A, meaning I experience limited ****** attraction) and this year I came out to a few close friends. My parents views on LGBT rights (that is, that "being gay is a choice" and "gays are destroying the sanctity of marriage", etc) influence me heavily, but in a negative way- they make me feel unsafe and I know I can't come out to them now or they might kick me out (my mom told my sister once that if any of us were gay we wouldn't be welcome. she also referenced my trans friend as being 'confused' and things like that). The 8 or so friends I've told have been accepting but I know they see me differently and I feel uncomfortable telling boys because there's an expectation that lesbians are more inclined to ****** activity (think lesbian **** and are often fetishized, things like that. I still go to church but it makes me miserable because people hate gays there and make insensitive comments, not realizing that they make me feel pretty terrible for being who I am. I've also suffered from major depression for about 6 years and part of what made it worse throughout junior high and high school was having to suppress my identity and the constant fear I face in my home and community. You never know who's going to hate you, reject you, or even attack you for being gay. The internet (tumblr, mainly) provides a more welcoming community than I find elsewhere so at least I have that forum to express myself.

3

i awake i awake i awake i am awake and i see you first thing and you are beautiful to me and i see you all the time and you always look so fresh so young so glowing so terrifying you burn my eyes and i love you all the same i love you i love you this runs like a thread through every lobe of my brain i am so in love with you and the way you cry makes my heart beat extra strong today you are crying and i do not know why i do not care why this is how i love you and your face is grey pigeon grey pearl grey storm grey and your eyes are darker than ever before and from the way your hands twist in your lap i see that you are leaving me but there are no words in my throat just this never ending loop of i love you i love you i love you in my head i can’t get it out and i don’t want to either i see it in front of my eyes i see it all around me it’s so tangible it’s as touchable as your hair looks just now let me reach out and stroke it one last time your flesh is so soft and yielding and i can see my hands in front of me too but they do not make any sense because i have not commanded them to move but they reach for you reach reach reach for something i am afraid i might lose i reach like a child for their mother i reach for you and my hands are much stronger than your delicate neck and your neck so soft and brown is no match for me no not at all and your eyes your lovely tan eyes look so afraid and i want to tell you not to be afraid you are not going anywhere and your face looks so swollen so bruised and i begin to cry too but you are leaving me anyway and this is no punishment this is just me begging for you not to go but your eyes are fluttering shut and my face is bleeding from your sharp little nails scratching at me like a bird you are my little bird and you are broken on the ground

0

Mar 15, 2014

Mar 15, 2014 at 7:32 PM UTC

little bird

i awake i awake i awake i am awake and i see you first thing and you are beautiful to me and i see you all the time and you always look so fresh so young so glowing so terrifying you burn my eyes and i love you all the same i love you i love you this runs like a thread through every lobe of my brain i am so in love with you and the way you cry makes my heart beat extra strong today you are crying and i do not know why i do not care why this is how i love you and your face is grey pigeon grey pearl grey storm grey and your eyes are darker than ever before and from the way your hands twist in your lap i see that you are leaving me but there are no words in my throat just this never ending loop of i love you i love you i love you in my head i can’t get it out and i don’t want to either i see it in front of my eyes i see it all around me it’s so tangible it’s as touchable as your hair looks just now let me reach out and stroke it one last time your flesh is so soft and yielding and i can see my hands in front of me too but they do not make any sense because i have not commanded them to move but they reach for you reach reach reach for something i am afraid i might lose i reach like a child for their mother i reach for you and my hands are much stronger than your delicate neck and your neck so soft and brown is no match for me no not at all and your eyes your lovely tan eyes look so afraid and i want to tell you not to be afraid you are not going anywhere and your face looks so swollen so bruised and i begin to cry too but you are leaving me anyway and this is no punishment this is just me begging for you not to go but your eyes are fluttering shut and my face is bleeding from your sharp little nails scratching at me like a bird you are my little bird and you are broken on the ground

1

YOU WILL NOT FALL IN LOVE IN A HOSPITAL, YOUR SKIN WILL SMELL LIKE THE DYING AND YOUR LIPS WILL CRACK AND YOU WILL NOT FIND BEAUTY I USED TO THINK I WOULD FIND SOLACE IN THOSE SANITIZED WHITE HALLS BUT ALL I EVER FOUND WAS MY OWN EMPTY EYES STARING BACK AT ME FROM THE UNBREAKABLE SUICIDE-PROOF MIRROR AND THERE WAS NO COMFORT IN MY BRUISED TENDER FACE HOSPITALS ARE NO PLACE FOR YOUNG GIRLS WHO HAVE NOT YET TURNED AWAY FROM LIFE AND THEY ARE NO PLACE FOR KISSING YET YOU READ ABOUT MOUTHS FINDING EACHOTHER IN THE DARKEST HOUR AND YOU THINK OF CEMENT HOSPITAL WALLS; THERE IS NO DARKNESS IN HOSPITALS, JUST PURPLE FLUORESCENT LIGHTS THAT MAKE YOU LOOK SO PALE YOU MIGHT JUST REALIZE THE IMMINENCE OF YOUR OWN DEATH. YOU WILL NOT FALL IN LOVE IN A HOSPITAL.

0

Mar 13, 2014

Mar 13, 2014 at 10:06 PM UTC

HOSPITALIZATION

YOU WILL NOT FALL IN LOVE IN A HOSPITAL, YOUR SKIN WILL SMELL LIKE THE DYING AND YOUR LIPS WILL CRACK AND YOU WILL NOT FIND BEAUTY I USED TO THINK I WOULD FIND SOLACE IN THOSE SANITIZED WHITE HALLS BUT ALL I EVER FOUND WAS MY OWN EMPTY EYES STARING BACK AT ME FROM THE UNBREAKABLE SUICIDE-PROOF MIRROR AND THERE WAS NO COMFORT IN MY BRUISED TENDER FACE HOSPITALS ARE NO PLACE FOR YOUNG GIRLS WHO HAVE NOT YET TURNED AWAY FROM LIFE AND THEY ARE NO PLACE FOR KISSING YET YOU READ ABOUT MOUTHS FINDING EACHOTHER IN THE DARKEST HOUR AND YOU THINK OF CEMENT HOSPITAL WALLS; THERE IS NO DARKNESS IN HOSPITALS, JUST PURPLE FLUORESCENT LIGHTS THAT MAKE YOU LOOK SO PALE YOU MIGHT JUST REALIZE THE IMMINENCE OF YOUR OWN DEATH. YOU WILL NOT FALL IN LOVE IN A HOSPITAL.

4

ARIES: stay away from cats claws and hours past midnight. good day for purple lips and kissing your mothers cheek TAURUS: your leg hair will grow and it will feel like beauty. you are lost and will not be found and this will feel like being a child again GEMINI: clocks will move backwards for you today. when his hand catches in your hair, go home with your shoes clutched to your chest. CANCER: spiders beckon new hope and your feet will crush the crocuses in your front yard. don’t be late. LEO: today is a day to listen. listen to silence, listen to noise, listen to sobs, listen to laughter, listen to your heartbeat. hush VIRGO: itchy scars are a sign of past romance bubbling to the surface. avoid broken windows and crying LIBRA: you will love your freckles in the mirror and when he says he does not, leave him. good day for hauntings SCORPIO: you will feel it. bad day for fresh-cut flowers SAGITTARIUS: two chimes means a secret is about to be revealed. watch for smudged mascara and track marks CAPRICORN: destruction comes with a price. squeeze her hand extra tight when you leave; she’ll be back eventually. AQUARIUS: you can not be silenced today; this is not always good. bad day for second hand books PISCES: read your mail and stay out of the rain. avoid gray eyes and sleeping late

0

Mar 12, 2014

Mar 12, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC

HOROSCOPES FOR SURREALIST WOMEN, PART I

ARIES: stay away from cats claws and hours past midnight. good day for purple lips and kissing your mothers cheek TAURUS: your leg hair will grow and it will feel like beauty. you are lost and will not be found and this will feel like being a child again GEMINI: clocks will move backwards for you today. when his hand catches in your hair, go home with your shoes clutched to your chest. CANCER: spiders beckon new hope and your feet will crush the crocuses in your front yard. don’t be late. LEO: today is a day to listen. listen to silence, listen to noise, listen to sobs, listen to laughter, listen to your heartbeat. hush VIRGO: itchy scars are a sign of past romance bubbling to the surface. avoid broken windows and crying LIBRA: you will love your freckles in the mirror and when he says he does not, leave him. good day for hauntings SCORPIO: you will feel it. bad day for fresh-cut flowers SAGITTARIUS: two chimes means a secret is about to be revealed. watch for smudged mascara and track marks CAPRICORN: destruction comes with a price. squeeze her hand extra tight when you leave; she’ll be back eventually. AQUARIUS: you can not be silenced today; this is not always good. bad day for second hand books PISCES: read your mail and stay out of the rain. avoid gray eyes and sleeping late

12