plain-jane-glory - Hello Poetry

You were a poem from the beginning Something in your boyish features and shining blonde hair, shabbily cut across those blue eyes You were a marvel to me simply in the way you walked, floating on knobby knees and slouching socks In your blackline tattoos, the silver hoop in your left ear, your skin Moroccan gold And you had that one darkened tooth of a crooked smile lover In the afternoon, I watched the sun cut through the holes in the space above us In shy glances, I watched whole worlds of your boyish beauty as you slept in the sun Occassionally waking for sips of warming beer from green glass bottles Your warm honey belly balancing a clever man's novel And later, in the dark, empty palace of a room, between those ancient stained glass windows and those eternal flowing fabrics, The boy I knew as endless whispered so softly, "I think I must be boring" But I could swear you are a poem breathing life You are sweet cadence come alive I can still taste chocolate and wine on your lips And I feel the laughs from deep in my belly as you crossed your legs and told me stories I still feel the softness of your hair, the sweat from the tip of your nose I still see you smiling at me from the far end of the pool That one dark tooth of yours the only imperfection in sight

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Jan 14, 2017

Jan 14, 2017 at 10:13 AM UTC

Sweet cadence come alive

You were a poem from the beginning Something in your boyish features and shining blonde hair, shabbily cut across those blue eyes You were a marvel to me simply in the way you walked, floating on knobby knees and slouching socks In your blackline tattoos, the silver hoop in your left ear, your skin Moroccan gold And you had that one darkened tooth of a crooked smile lover In the afternoon, I watched the sun cut through the holes in the space above us In shy glances, I watched whole worlds of your boyish beauty as you slept in the sun Occassionally waking for sips of warming beer from green glass bottles Your warm honey belly balancing a clever man's novel And later, in the dark, empty palace of a room, between those ancient stained glass windows and those eternal flowing fabrics, The boy I knew as endless whispered so softly, "I think I must be boring" But I could swear you are a poem breathing life You are sweet cadence come alive I can still taste chocolate and wine on your lips And I feel the laughs from deep in my belly as you crossed your legs and told me stories I still feel the softness of your hair, the sweat from the tip of your nose I still see you smiling at me from the far end of the pool That one dark tooth of yours the only imperfection in sight

19

I like the clumsy lovers The boys who don't make every right move Who don't have slick & tired lines borrowed from tacky romance novels I like the ones whose clumsy words widen their eyes in disbelief that they could've said such a thing at a time like this The ones who laugh nervously are heavenly Making jokes to make up for whatever it is they think they lack They don't know my laughs are cups of red adoration as they spill from my mouth and onto my pillowcase I can't help but love you when you stammer as you tell me I'm beautiful, while your eyes trace me as if I'm a private discovery of yours I love your vulnerability, your nervous hands, your silly jokes, that kind heart and those little smirks I love how you look into my eyes and say what you mean, beautiful or not I like the clumsy lovers Because in the moments you think you're falling apart, I'm falling hopelessly for you Believe me, clumsy lover, there's something right for me in the way you do things wrong

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Mar 11, 2016

Mar 11, 2016 at 8:14 AM UTC

For the clumsy boys with nervous hands and good hearts

I like the clumsy lovers The boys who don't make every right move Who don't have slick & tired lines borrowed from tacky romance novels I like the ones whose clumsy words widen their eyes in disbelief that they could've said such a thing at a time like this The ones who laugh nervously are heavenly Making jokes to make up for whatever it is they think they lack They don't know my laughs are cups of red adoration as they spill from my mouth and onto my pillowcase I can't help but love you when you stammer as you tell me I'm beautiful, while your eyes trace me as if I'm a private discovery of yours I love your vulnerability, your nervous hands, your silly jokes, that kind heart and those little smirks I love how you look into my eyes and say what you mean, beautiful or not I like the clumsy lovers Because in the moments you think you're falling apart, I'm falling hopelessly for you Believe me, clumsy lover, there's something right for me in the way you do things wrong

13

You were here on holiday, only stopping in on the big move to England And I was just a lost girl, a little wandering wonder, And so I was here for 90 days, and I knew you for two We met in the afternoon in a pub It was that ***** early 20's, new and a little exciting kind of thing And you had an instant fan in me You were smart, you were funny, well-dressed and fairly kind And you talked about all the stupid things I liked And I watched your strengths and I wondered if you too saw your weaknesses, And I loved that you were afraid to cry at the new Star Wars premiere And so we got a little tipsy, paid the tab and left to find ourselves more sweet, sweet beer at a more reasonable price for two such kids And so we got drunk on a park bench on €1 beers And we listened to your scattered songs And we kissed in those old Spanish streets as if we'd been in young love for centuries When it had really only been about 3 hours since we'd seen each other first But it was good, and it was nice, and we both needed it, I think So the next day we met again You were just as funny, just as kind, and this time, even more well-dressed, in your smart leather shoes And we did it all over again on day two The pub, the beers, the bench, the tacky kisses and the bits of banter And the next day, you left But we still keep in touch And I'd like to see you again I'm hoping for a day three I'm a big fan of yours

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Jan 27, 2016

Jan 27, 2016 at 5:35 AM UTC

Young kids

You were here on holiday, only stopping in on the big move to England And I was just a lost girl, a little wandering wonder, And so I was here for 90 days, and I knew you for two We met in the afternoon in a pub It was that ***** early 20's, new and a little exciting kind of thing And you had an instant fan in me You were smart, you were funny, well-dressed and fairly kind And you talked about all the stupid things I liked And I watched your strengths and I wondered if you too saw your weaknesses, And I loved that you were afraid to cry at the new Star Wars premiere And so we got a little tipsy, paid the tab and left to find ourselves more sweet, sweet beer at a more reasonable price for two such kids And so we got drunk on a park bench on €1 beers And we listened to your scattered songs And we kissed in those old Spanish streets as if we'd been in young love for centuries When it had really only been about 3 hours since we'd seen each other first But it was good, and it was nice, and we both needed it, I think So the next day we met again You were just as funny, just as kind, and this time, even more well-dressed, in your smart leather shoes And we did it all over again on day two The pub, the beers, the bench, the tacky kisses and the bits of banter And the next day, you left But we still keep in touch And I'd like to see you again I'm hoping for a day three I'm a big fan of yours

25

I see you there, See-through Girl, barely there you think you must be yelling nothing but a whisper See-through Girl, you live amongst monsters and the real people question if you or they are even there See-through Girl, your world is whispers and monsters and second bests and blind eyes last resorts and second rate sins See-through girl, see it through the night and we'll do it all again

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Oct 22, 2015

Oct 22, 2015 at 1:11 PM UTC

See-through Girl

I see you there, See-through Girl, barely there you think you must be yelling nothing but a whisper See-through Girl, you live amongst monsters and the real people question if you or they are even there See-through Girl, your world is whispers and monsters and second bests and blind eyes last resorts and second rate sins See-through girl, see it through the night and we'll do it all again

13

i like to dance inside your arms like a mosquito trapped inside a room i don't know who's got the stronger grip between us two but i think you're a little less stuck on me than i am stuck on you

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Oct 8, 2015

Oct 8, 2015 at 10:21 AM UTC

Untitled

i like to dance inside your arms like a mosquito trapped inside a room i don't know who's got the stronger grip between us two but i think you're a little less stuck on me than i am stuck on you

4

You are a tiger You crouch and wait to pounce Hungry for a moment Hungry to taste it on your tongue To let it fill your insides But the moment sees an idea dancing behind your eyes and breaks out in great, thundering strides The moment breaks away from you Crouching there So pounce Don't starve yourself The moment is here to feast upon So feast Take off running and clamp your teeth in now Don't let the moment bleed out **** it quickly, with gratitude Let its pure grace soak in to your skin Taste it Feast

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Sep 6, 2015

Sep 6, 2015 at 5:03 PM UTC

Feast

You are a tiger You crouch and wait to pounce Hungry for a moment Hungry to taste it on your tongue To let it fill your insides But the moment sees an idea dancing behind your eyes and breaks out in great, thundering strides The moment breaks away from you Crouching there So pounce Don't starve yourself The moment is here to feast upon So feast Take off running and clamp your teeth in now Don't let the moment bleed out **** it quickly, with gratitude Let its pure grace soak in to your skin Taste it Feast

19

I have the world I have touched God felt his breath on the back of my neck while I dove in and out of the clearest night skies known to any man, living or dead I have drank euphoria down with certain privilege and here I stand in the middle of this hot room, sweat marks lining a ***** and greyed night shirt legs wrapped in clinging and cheap black fabric covered in dog hairs, cat fur and spilt milk I can smell it souring with my negligence I stand here sweating, shaking I repeat over and over and over "I need a doctor" "I need a doctor" "I need a doctor" "I need a doctor" "I need a doctor" I cannot stop and my chest will not do me the the honour to heave with tears and gasps draining itself of sickness it is wound like an overcompensating clock around itself and collapsing into me surely and too quickly I stand here I watch my oily, reddening face bring swollen eyes that modest salted water drips from, slowly like an unkept tap I need a doctor my mind has collapsed onto itself a Victorian home with roaches climbing in and out of softened floorboards a feast on what remains

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Jul 27, 2015

Jul 27, 2015 at 12:23 AM UTC

On What Remains

I have the world I have touched God felt his breath on the back of my neck while I dove in and out of the clearest night skies known to any man, living or dead I have drank euphoria down with certain privilege and here I stand in the middle of this hot room, sweat marks lining a ***** and greyed night shirt legs wrapped in clinging and cheap black fabric covered in dog hairs, cat fur and spilt milk I can smell it souring with my negligence I stand here sweating, shaking I repeat over and over and over "I need a doctor" "I need a doctor" "I need a doctor" "I need a doctor" "I need a doctor" I cannot stop and my chest will not do me the the honour to heave with tears and gasps draining itself of sickness it is wound like an overcompensating clock around itself and collapsing into me surely and too quickly I stand here I watch my oily, reddening face bring swollen eyes that modest salted water drips from, slowly like an unkept tap I need a doctor my mind has collapsed onto itself a Victorian home with roaches climbing in and out of softened floorboards a feast on what remains

34

Feed me your lines, about darkness and despair And the tragedy you claim, that your heart still pumps and your chest still heaves and your eyes still flutter Oh, give me dark, raw poetry and tell me that my blood is beautiful on bedsheets Are you sure you want to do that? The way you lace those black words together puppeteers my hands, tying nooses with the romance of it all Keep going, tell your fellow crying souls that one dance with the Reaper is greater than what comes without the knife Hear me just this once: There are fine lines in life, like fine lines on our wrists, so dance along them carefully, thoughtfully There is nothing tragically beautiful about my mother finding my cold, dead corpse Will you romanticize my mother's tears in the moments after she finds me? Tell me that it's all so beautiful, then? Are you sure you want to do that? Do you feel like a literary genius now? Don't hold my deepest horrors in your hands and fold them into stories

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Apr 23, 2015

Apr 23, 2015 at 12:38 AM UTC

A whole bunch of ********

Feed me your lines, about darkness and despair And the tragedy you claim, that your heart still pumps and your chest still heaves and your eyes still flutter Oh, give me dark, raw poetry and tell me that my blood is beautiful on bedsheets Are you sure you want to do that? The way you lace those black words together puppeteers my hands, tying nooses with the romance of it all Keep going, tell your fellow crying souls that one dance with the Reaper is greater than what comes without the knife Hear me just this once: There are fine lines in life, like fine lines on our wrists, so dance along them carefully, thoughtfully There is nothing tragically beautiful about my mother finding my cold, dead corpse Will you romanticize my mother's tears in the moments after she finds me? Tell me that it's all so beautiful, then? Are you sure you want to do that? Do you feel like a literary genius now? Don't hold my deepest horrors in your hands and fold them into stories

14

I'm in love with the way the world keeps turning, and letting me fumble over and over again, back into your arms I kind of like the way you stumble as you catch me it's familiar, and it's you and it's your trembling hands I love I feel as if the gin is never really the culprit with you and I, we're ocean waves, meant to crash into each other endlessly and these four left feet stumble back to dance this silly dance but I like this silly dance, and it's your trembling hands I love

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Apr 23, 2015

Apr 23, 2015 at 12:11 AM UTC

Four left feet

I'm in love with the way the world keeps turning, and letting me fumble over and over again, back into your arms I kind of like the way you stumble as you catch me it's familiar, and it's you and it's your trembling hands I love I feel as if the gin is never really the culprit with you and I, we're ocean waves, meant to crash into each other endlessly and these four left feet stumble back to dance this silly dance but I like this silly dance, and it's your trembling hands I love

9

I've been so old, locked in line by expectations I forgot that love is a $20 ticket to a punk rock show Sweaty bodies pushing forward, slamming hard, falling to fall in love with the words of some yelping, grown-out teenager And we're all drinking ****** venue beer just because it's dirt cheap and suddenly I remember that I'm only free with ***** feet and I come alive in mosh pits and I die when I live for paycheques We're all dripping beads of sweat, making necklaces from our youth Tokens of everything we love and shedding everything we hate We'll sweat it out onto the ***** bar floor We'll keep going until our legs give out, I swear to it I've never been more free than when I'm dancing to these songs I've been so old, forgetting that I'm just a punk rock kid, with $20 in my pocket and ****** beer in my hand Singing songs that mean something, demand change, ooze with emotion, celebrate divine & dingy moments, make me feel that transgender dysphoria blues I forgot that this is euphoria I'm not jaded quite yet Not in this moment How dare I be How dare I?

0

Sep 27, 2014

Sep 27, 2014 at 12:32 AM UTC

Love is a $20 ticket to a punk rock show

I've been so old, locked in line by expectations I forgot that love is a $20 ticket to a punk rock show Sweaty bodies pushing forward, slamming hard, falling to fall in love with the words of some yelping, grown-out teenager And we're all drinking ****** venue beer just because it's dirt cheap and suddenly I remember that I'm only free with ***** feet and I come alive in mosh pits and I die when I live for paycheques We're all dripping beads of sweat, making necklaces from our youth Tokens of everything we love and shedding everything we hate We'll sweat it out onto the ***** bar floor We'll keep going until our legs give out, I swear to it I've never been more free than when I'm dancing to these songs I've been so old, forgetting that I'm just a punk rock kid, with $20 in my pocket and ****** beer in my hand Singing songs that mean something, demand change, ooze with emotion, celebrate divine & dingy moments, make me feel that transgender dysphoria blues I forgot that this is euphoria I'm not jaded quite yet Not in this moment How dare I be How dare I?

19