nessie - Hello Poetry

We had this bulletin board with candid photographs that our teachers used to take of us I guess to commemorate the school year when it got to its end. There are only two pictures of you You do not ****** yourself in limelight. They are strictly taken without your knowledge The first is one with you working in a group project Carefully fixing a model of some sort Quietly working with others Agreeable, patient, very careful I was going to take this one, but I came across another. This one is charmingly black and white With you alone-sketching something –again probably for a classroom assignment The only thing I wish of this picture is that you were sketching what you wanted That it was you, how I remembered it Putting a heart, a light, a dedication, a sweat, and a story Something that danced before my eyes Something that would materialize and be, just be in its own creation and life I would remember in this your pencil strokes and the way you would look up and kind of smirk at me And I would wonder if I was hidden away from you while you drew, or if my presence irritated you in some way. I would self consciously observe- not sure to speak, not sure to keep silent. I favored silence. This picture, your face in it: concentration. A loving concentration, zoned out that you possibly couldn’t see the lucky individual with the camera. I make out the shape of your eyes and a side profile of your face and I wonder, I wonder what is this peace, patience, loneliness, vast adoration that I feel that I deny myself over and over again. I know this picture is old and it makes me smile still- its what I missed It reminds me of a song you let me hear About not being home, my weird sensation of being truly ****** up And how sweet you were about the whole thing So on one of the last days of school, when it is excruciatingly possible to never see you, never truly see you again. I went into the box of pictures and stole away this picture of you when no one was looking I didn’t want it cheapened by questions I didn’t have answers, but I had reasons I imagined it sitting on my desk A guy, any guy comes over “Who’s that?” I would smile and blush and not have an answer I would only know and not have an answer There was something careful about you, I guess that reigned me in. I can’t tell you how badly I needed a friend who understood on that level, how badly I needed you in some strange quiet way I didn’t want to struggle with a knowledge that could hurt you *“You know the bottom line was I couldn't change your mind Honey, could I?”* Confuse you, anger you I can’t, I can’t And I can lie and say I don’t know why but I can’t So selfishly I tried to keep it in simplicity and it only grew more complex And so now you have given back to you meaning in a picture The closest thing to a sketch I could, for you to see what’s inside of me And with a lasting strangeness, like a scar I miss you.

0

Aug 16, 2012

Aug 16, 2012 at 5:07 AM UTC

Picture

We had this bulletin board with candid photographs that our teachers used to take of us I guess to commemorate the school year when it got to its end. There are only two pictures of you You do not ****** yourself in limelight. They are strictly taken without your knowledge The first is one with you working in a group project Carefully fixing a model of some sort Quietly working with others Agreeable, patient, very careful I was going to take this one, but I came across another. This one is charmingly black and white With you alone-sketching something –again probably for a classroom assignment The only thing I wish of this picture is that you were sketching what you wanted That it was you, how I remembered it Putting a heart, a light, a dedication, a sweat, and a story Something that danced before my eyes Something that would materialize and be, just be in its own creation and life I would remember in this your pencil strokes and the way you would look up and kind of smirk at me And I would wonder if I was hidden away from you while you drew, or if my presence irritated you in some way. I would self consciously observe- not sure to speak, not sure to keep silent. I favored silence. This picture, your face in it: concentration. A loving concentration, zoned out that you possibly couldn’t see the lucky individual with the camera. I make out the shape of your eyes and a side profile of your face and I wonder, I wonder what is this peace, patience, loneliness, vast adoration that I feel that I deny myself over and over again. I know this picture is old and it makes me smile still- its what I missed It reminds me of a song you let me hear About not being home, my weird sensation of being truly ****** up And how sweet you were about the whole thing So on one of the last days of school, when it is excruciatingly possible to never see you, never truly see you again. I went into the box of pictures and stole away this picture of you when no one was looking I didn’t want it cheapened by questions I didn’t have answers, but I had reasons I imagined it sitting on my desk A guy, any guy comes over “Who’s that?” I would smile and blush and not have an answer I would only know and not have an answer There was something careful about you, I guess that reigned me in. I can’t tell you how badly I needed a friend who understood on that level, how badly I needed you in some strange quiet way I didn’t want to struggle with a knowledge that could hurt you *“You know the bottom line was I couldn't change your mind Honey, could I?”* Confuse you, anger you I can’t, I can’t And I can lie and say I don’t know why but I can’t So selfishly I tried to keep it in simplicity and it only grew more complex And so now you have given back to you meaning in a picture The closest thing to a sketch I could, for you to see what’s inside of me And with a lasting strangeness, like a scar I miss you.

47

I am eating the cheesecake its late its creamy your gone and my anger is pent up in agonizing frustration We had a fight the causes unknown the intentions secret So I take it out on the cheesecake the creamy sensation has been on my side for years more than I can say for you were back in this endless spiral the one that leads me to crying on the sofa that smells of your cigarettes eating the cheesecake, watching emcommericals I have wasted my life on you and I waste this night day trying to piece myself together with goey strawberries and sweet pie crust I have joined women all over the world I've had quite enough I'm full Thank-you

0

Aug 4, 2011

Aug 4, 2011 at 1:00 PM UTC

cheesecake.

I am eating the cheesecake its late its creamy your gone and my anger is pent up in agonizing frustration We had a fight the causes unknown the intentions secret So I take it out on the cheesecake the creamy sensation has been on my side for years more than I can say for you were back in this endless spiral the one that leads me to crying on the sofa that smells of your cigarettes eating the cheesecake, watching emcommericals I have wasted my life on you and I waste this night day trying to piece myself together with goey strawberries and sweet pie crust I have joined women all over the world I've had quite enough I'm full Thank-you

24

sun rising fast orange light gives public transportation a peculiar look pink sky is my favorite my short skirt and black lipstick his long unkept hair and Iron Maiden tee its nice to see another misfit on the bus mr. metal flashes me a smile I pretend to be occupied with my cell phone I got a boyfriend besides i'm not used to flattery mr. metal is silly he's drumming the seats with his fingers I pinch a black smile don't laugh, be sensible putting on my librarian face glasses on the edge of my nose sweep back stray hairs against my sensible bun mr. metal is staring holes into me he is amused now I'm sulky go back into Gatsby and Daisy this is a bit coincidental we are way too funny breaks bells next stop mr.metal clashes into my world books fly headphones are yanked automatic door next thing I know i'm flailing off a bus wonderful. mr. metal is sorry I dont know I'm laughing til my sides start to hurt grouchy morning bystanders are looking with interest and the bus driver is surpressing a deep belly laugh I remind him of his clumsy wife, sister, girlfriend, or daughter. mr. metal is headbanging to my black sabbath and picking up my books suddenly I know he has a very tired understanding mother he helps me up we're both wearing black nail polish dont ask me why this is so hilarious i'm stood up, brushed off, and looked at he looks at me like an ex he smells good I blush far too easily thanks are muttered and we turn around to walk off like a graceful plot of some movie I've never seen I get a text from baby he takes such good care of me. mr. metal will meet a cute girl he can pit with at some heavy concert and maybe when she's cold he'll give her that leather jacket and he'll ride the bus with her all night long thats what i'd like to think either way life is good.

0

Jan 9, 2011

Jan 9, 2011 at 1:05 PM UTC

mr.metal

sun rising fast orange light gives public transportation a peculiar look pink sky is my favorite my short skirt and black lipstick his long unkept hair and Iron Maiden tee its nice to see another misfit on the bus mr. metal flashes me a smile I pretend to be occupied with my cell phone I got a boyfriend besides i'm not used to flattery mr. metal is silly he's drumming the seats with his fingers I pinch a black smile don't laugh, be sensible putting on my librarian face glasses on the edge of my nose sweep back stray hairs against my sensible bun mr. metal is staring holes into me he is amused now I'm sulky go back into Gatsby and Daisy this is a bit coincidental we are way too funny breaks bells next stop mr.metal clashes into my world books fly headphones are yanked automatic door next thing I know i'm flailing off a bus wonderful. mr. metal is sorry I dont know I'm laughing til my sides start to hurt grouchy morning bystanders are looking with interest and the bus driver is surpressing a deep belly laugh I remind him of his clumsy wife, sister, girlfriend, or daughter. mr. metal is headbanging to my black sabbath and picking up my books suddenly I know he has a very tired understanding mother he helps me up we're both wearing black nail polish dont ask me why this is so hilarious i'm stood up, brushed off, and looked at he looks at me like an ex he smells good I blush far too easily thanks are muttered and we turn around to walk off like a graceful plot of some movie I've never seen I get a text from baby he takes such good care of me. mr. metal will meet a cute girl he can pit with at some heavy concert and maybe when she's cold he'll give her that leather jacket and he'll ride the bus with her all night long thats what i'd like to think either way life is good.

68

it was quiet when you got up to use the bathroom it was quiet when you kissed me on the head grabbed your keys and left it was quiet when the imprint of your body warmed the sheets and emitted all the loving grace that is you that seeped long into my dreams and long into my breakfast daze holding a cold cup of coffee aware that you’ve been working for hours now it was quiet when you slipped past our home its been quiet all day. …..its been quiet all day.

0

Jan 8, 2011

Jan 8, 2011 at 10:24 AM UTC

Quiet

it was quiet when you got up to use the bathroom it was quiet when you kissed me on the head grabbed your keys and left it was quiet when the imprint of your body warmed the sheets and emitted all the loving grace that is you that seeped long into my dreams and long into my breakfast daze holding a cold cup of coffee aware that you’ve been working for hours now it was quiet when you slipped past our home its been quiet all day. …..its been quiet all day.

14

the day spilled over and I am sick the light is ***** and yellow and sticky looking I’m waiting for your call but I dont want to sleep I dont wanna look in the mirror I dont want to do anything death seems simple close your eyes write a letter maybe a kiss on the cheek before I go I’m just worn out its a bit simple but a litte too simple for me to let go I see you come through the snow work boots pinching your feet I remember childhood novels about married women and things and its all good sometimes it takes your worn out face to remember why I keep kicking.

0

Jan 1, 2011

Jan 1, 2011 at 1:17 PM UTC

Day.

the day spilled over and I am sick the light is ***** and yellow and sticky looking I’m waiting for your call but I dont want to sleep I dont wanna look in the mirror I dont want to do anything death seems simple close your eyes write a letter maybe a kiss on the cheek before I go I’m just worn out its a bit simple but a litte too simple for me to let go I see you come through the snow work boots pinching your feet I remember childhood novels about married women and things and its all good sometimes it takes your worn out face to remember why I keep kicking.

23

because. eventhough the rain is cold and bitter it still paints the roads with its shiny ectasy to be felt it drops in when you least expect it it reflects things brilliantly and is something rather to be learned from than ran from I wanna live like rain and touch things and people I do not know I want to be benefical to someones survival I want I want I want and I fall and fall and fall and fall sometimes silently sometimes loudly either way I crash and you feel it more than I do. and we laugh all the way to the ground so its not so bad. me as the rain you as my unfortunate stranger. this rain is much like our love thats why.

0

Dec 29, 2010

Dec 29, 2010 at 12:57 PM UTC

because.

because. eventhough the rain is cold and bitter it still paints the roads with its shiny ectasy to be felt it drops in when you least expect it it reflects things brilliantly and is something rather to be learned from than ran from I wanna live like rain and touch things and people I do not know I want to be benefical to someones survival I want I want I want and I fall and fall and fall and fall sometimes silently sometimes loudly either way I crash and you feel it more than I do. and we laugh all the way to the ground so its not so bad. me as the rain you as my unfortunate stranger. this rain is much like our love thats why.

23

“I feel good” I say it in a bit of a drunken slur the cars are flashing by in a whirl of snow and sleet you’re the only thing in the world I want right now I feel a wide palm caress my hip, and eyes gaze down still you’re the only thing I want now the only thing I need to feel hot breath on an ear, a bumpy car ride to wherever youth goes when it its gone bad you are my saving grace and my one way ticket to everland you only you with the hair on your chin and slick hands.

0

Dec 27, 2010

Dec 27, 2010 at 5:36 PM UTC

Everland.

“I feel good” I say it in a bit of a drunken slur the cars are flashing by in a whirl of snow and sleet you’re the only thing in the world I want right now I feel a wide palm caress my hip, and eyes gaze down still you’re the only thing I want now the only thing I need to feel hot breath on an ear, a bumpy car ride to wherever youth goes when it its gone bad you are my saving grace and my one way ticket to everland you only you with the hair on your chin and slick hands.

13

did you see the storm last night he was beautiful and destructive and his fury calmed my face and illuminated me with the theatrical light and wonder and fear that was there too did you see him the way he danced and teased and destroyed how he bent down the trees and ravaged my hair and caused the tears and joys did you see how far away he was how close he got how pathetic it was when he left they cleaned up the mess but dont worry he'll come back again did you see the strom last night well i didnt i miss him with my wretched goodnights sleep.

0

Dec 23, 2010

Dec 23, 2010 at 10:25 AM UTC

I didnt see him last night.

did you see the storm last night he was beautiful and destructive and his fury calmed my face and illuminated me with the theatrical light and wonder and fear that was there too did you see him the way he danced and teased and destroyed how he bent down the trees and ravaged my hair and caused the tears and joys did you see how far away he was how close he got how pathetic it was when he left they cleaned up the mess but dont worry he'll come back again did you see the strom last night well i didnt i miss him with my wretched goodnights sleep.

24

Its pretty early or maybe its just a cloudy day the light from the big bay windows is bright and soft and sad in its purity my heeled black boots click on the standard multi-grained colored tile I see you in the distance in a familiar hallway In the mandatory uniform hands balled up in tan pants, a book bag slung over one shoulder I stand on the opposite end looking somewhat normal a gray and black abstract top that screams art teacher/librarian dark purple lipstick, blue jeans, and a intricate up-do I believe I am particularly self-conscious about this but your smiling at me like I'm beautiful anyways the clicking of the heels get quicker as I magnetize towards you I fit into you like a puzzle piece body to body, heart to heart your arms are wrapped knowingly across my lower back my arms are clutching your neck holding on for dear life or something else that means so much more You still smell the same Your breath is soft against my ear right above the sliver hoop When we try to remove ourselves from the sticky membranes of the closeness my nose trails across your cheek your chin I want that kiss I will never again receive I look up and you're wearing that smirk that rare smirk, that heart shattering smirk, my smirk This. This embrace echoes things of the past of chance, and love, and lust, and confusion, frustration, failure, and forgiveness even though we wear that polite"we're just friends" expression on our faces. This memory, I can place in the past , present, or future But sometimes. Sometimes it happens differently Sometimes I am comfy in an old slipknot shirt outside your house in the pouring rain Sometimes we are at Parkdale directly after I've crashed and burned, trying to smile bravely like it doesn't hurt Sometimes I am lost and broken amid the cherry blossoms sighing for you Sometimes its on Halloween before I take my four month leave But alot of times more often than most its in the way you look at me and say How are you? and I know you truly mean it That's when I realize i don't need to say a word..You know I loved you I lost you And vivid memory maybe the only thing I gain from this in its embracive care and that's okay with me finally.

0

Dec 23, 2010

Dec 23, 2010 at 9:22 AM UTC

His last poem.

Its pretty early or maybe its just a cloudy day the light from the big bay windows is bright and soft and sad in its purity my heeled black boots click on the standard multi-grained colored tile I see you in the distance in a familiar hallway In the mandatory uniform hands balled up in tan pants, a book bag slung over one shoulder I stand on the opposite end looking somewhat normal a gray and black abstract top that screams art teacher/librarian dark purple lipstick, blue jeans, and a intricate up-do I believe I am particularly self-conscious about this but your smiling at me like I'm beautiful anyways the clicking of the heels get quicker as I magnetize towards you I fit into you like a puzzle piece body to body, heart to heart your arms are wrapped knowingly across my lower back my arms are clutching your neck holding on for dear life or something else that means so much more You still smell the same Your breath is soft against my ear right above the sliver hoop When we try to remove ourselves from the sticky membranes of the closeness my nose trails across your cheek your chin I want that kiss I will never again receive I look up and you're wearing that smirk that rare smirk, that heart shattering smirk, my smirk This. This embrace echoes things of the past of chance, and love, and lust, and confusion, frustration, failure, and forgiveness even though we wear that polite"we're just friends" expression on our faces. This memory, I can place in the past , present, or future But sometimes. Sometimes it happens differently Sometimes I am comfy in an old slipknot shirt outside your house in the pouring rain Sometimes we are at Parkdale directly after I've crashed and burned, trying to smile bravely like it doesn't hurt Sometimes I am lost and broken amid the cherry blossoms sighing for you Sometimes its on Halloween before I take my four month leave But alot of times more often than most its in the way you look at me and say How are you? and I know you truly mean it That's when I realize i don't need to say a word..You know I loved you I lost you And vivid memory maybe the only thing I gain from this in its embracive care and that's okay with me finally.

47

I read all her letters I saw myself I read all her letters I'm so tired she's so tired I saw his name sigh I read all her letters I did'nt think she wanted me to I'm glad I did I read all her letters I saw his name I smiled I read all her letters thats all I can say the pictures are nice but the letters thats where its at I read all her letters thats it i didn't talk to her just read we are so different thank god I grew up she doesn't exist anymore.

0

Dec 20, 2010

Dec 20, 2010 at 9:16 AM UTC

I read all her letters.

I read all her letters I saw myself I read all her letters I'm so tired she's so tired I saw his name sigh I read all her letters I did'nt think she wanted me to I'm glad I did I read all her letters I saw his name I smiled I read all her letters thats all I can say the pictures are nice but the letters thats where its at I read all her letters thats it i didn't talk to her just read we are so different thank god I grew up she doesn't exist anymore.

25