sass-v - Hello Poetry

In the warm, dark morning I wake up before you Opening my eyes to your empty walls Nearly forgetting your body breathing next to mine I turn to watch you sleep Warming your bare back with my gaze Eyes like planes crossing an ocean of cold sheets between us A chasm of desires met by deflections I will you to dream of me So you might wake up and say last night's words With the still mind and even tongue of a Sunday Let me know I'm not the only one losing this game In my mind I shake you awake Show you the urgency I feel to touch you Because I already miss you in the future Minutes slipping like your big shirt down my sad shoulders In this tired, familiar bed I stop waiting for you, shut my eyes again And think how I could love you later If you'd let me If you could resist that warmth that reaches across states for you From golden lights and people meant to absorb you, And return to cold bones that I guess were always meant To break under the weight of your exit

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Dec 9, 2014

Dec 9, 2014 at 1:16 PM UTC

Coasting

In the warm, dark morning I wake up before you Opening my eyes to your empty walls Nearly forgetting your body breathing next to mine I turn to watch you sleep Warming your bare back with my gaze Eyes like planes crossing an ocean of cold sheets between us A chasm of desires met by deflections I will you to dream of me So you might wake up and say last night's words With the still mind and even tongue of a Sunday Let me know I'm not the only one losing this game In my mind I shake you awake Show you the urgency I feel to touch you Because I already miss you in the future Minutes slipping like your big shirt down my sad shoulders In this tired, familiar bed I stop waiting for you, shut my eyes again And think how I could love you later If you'd let me If you could resist that warmth that reaches across states for you From golden lights and people meant to absorb you, And return to cold bones that I guess were always meant To break under the weight of your exit

24

I. I must have waited by that window for ten minutes Stomach in knots, heart pounding Tugging at my clothes Freshening my breath Storing away topics of conversation Hoping you'd like me Hoping you'd kiss me You couldn't find my house So I came and found you. I got in your car. We drove away And I've loved you ever since. II. I must have been waiting by the window for ten minutes Stomach in knots, heart pounding Wiping up my tears Steadying my breath Racing through things I want to say Hoping you'll stay Hoping you've missed me You walk through my door Take back your T-shirt You get in your car Drive away And you don't take me with you. III. How long will I have to wait at this window Until you come back to me

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Aug 23, 2014

Aug 23, 2014 at 8:03 PM UTC

Waiting By The Window

I. I must have waited by that window for ten minutes Stomach in knots, heart pounding Tugging at my clothes Freshening my breath Storing away topics of conversation Hoping you'd like me Hoping you'd kiss me You couldn't find my house So I came and found you. I got in your car. We drove away And I've loved you ever since. II. I must have been waiting by the window for ten minutes Stomach in knots, heart pounding Wiping up my tears Steadying my breath Racing through things I want to say Hoping you'll stay Hoping you've missed me You walk through my door Take back your T-shirt You get in your car Drive away And you don't take me with you. III. How long will I have to wait at this window Until you come back to me

29

It stings to talk about beginnings When we are so close to the end

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Aug 20, 2014

Aug 20, 2014 at 5:56 PM UTC

Untitled

It stings to talk about beginnings When we are so close to the end

2

Maybe this is how it will be: Every Summer I will fall in love with you With my head on your chest The sound of your breath in and out of your lungs The faint, sweet smell of y o u The brush of your rough fingertips against my thigh It all lulls me deeper into the notion of US Until New England reclaims me Drags me from you Tear stains on your T-shirt Every Autumn I will miss you What are you doing Who are you with Can she love you better than I can Wake up spotted with sticky, black tears Grasping for a body that was never there Every Winter I will leave you Distance myself from what I can't have anyway Play it safe Protect myself Be cold to you As cold as the Boston wind against my exposed skin on nights out with friends you'll never meet It's better this way. Every Spring I will forget you Make a new mistake every night You could never know me now never love me now. In and out of other boys' beds In and out of other boys' heads Boys with cigarettes and tattoos Boys with guitars and cameras Boys with French kisses and French accents But none of them fill the hole that you used to It hurts just in time for Summer

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Aug 20, 2014

Aug 20, 2014 at 5:51 PM UTC

Changing of the Seasons

Maybe this is how it will be: Every Summer I will fall in love with you With my head on your chest The sound of your breath in and out of your lungs The faint, sweet smell of y o u The brush of your rough fingertips against my thigh It all lulls me deeper into the notion of US Until New England reclaims me Drags me from you Tear stains on your T-shirt Every Autumn I will miss you What are you doing Who are you with Can she love you better than I can Wake up spotted with sticky, black tears Grasping for a body that was never there Every Winter I will leave you Distance myself from what I can't have anyway Play it safe Protect myself Be cold to you As cold as the Boston wind against my exposed skin on nights out with friends you'll never meet It's better this way. Every Spring I will forget you Make a new mistake every night You could never know me now never love me now. In and out of other boys' beds In and out of other boys' heads Boys with cigarettes and tattoos Boys with guitars and cameras Boys with French kisses and French accents But none of them fill the hole that you used to It hurts just in time for Summer

35

She thinks of how they like each other and it begins to make her stomach ache. But not her heart (never her heart) because it was numbed so long ago. She aches because she knows forever wasn't meant for her (was never meant for her). And she's known since the day when half of the books disappeared from the shelves and half of the closets were emptied. And all the tissues were used. So she couldn't help but wonder when and how it would be over. If it would become a race to see who could drown in apathy first Or if time would simply run out. If the hard and heavy breathing in his ear would turn into quiet whispers of "maybe later." If the laughter would become forced The giddy smiles turning to grinding teeth The beaming glances to blank stares She'd rather end it all. Rather stop it in it's tracks than let it burn on only to let it fade. Apathy to anything and everything else but (please) never to him. Because the same day she learned about forever She decided she'd always collect her books and clear out her closets wistfully (not indifferently)

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Aug 18, 2014

Aug 18, 2014 at 11:26 AM UTC

A Lesson In Forever

She thinks of how they like each other and it begins to make her stomach ache. But not her heart (never her heart) because it was numbed so long ago. She aches because she knows forever wasn't meant for her (was never meant for her). And she's known since the day when half of the books disappeared from the shelves and half of the closets were emptied. And all the tissues were used. So she couldn't help but wonder when and how it would be over. If it would become a race to see who could drown in apathy first Or if time would simply run out. If the hard and heavy breathing in his ear would turn into quiet whispers of "maybe later." If the laughter would become forced The giddy smiles turning to grinding teeth The beaming glances to blank stares She'd rather end it all. Rather stop it in it's tracks than let it burn on only to let it fade. Apathy to anything and everything else but (please) never to him. Because the same day she learned about forever She decided she'd always collect her books and clear out her closets wistfully (not indifferently)

20

The idea of a fat rain drop smacking my shoulder blade is both wildly unsatisfying and much sweeter than the slice of a blade across my forearm. But in the real world Raindrops don't bruise don't damage don't break the skin like my glistening friend can. I never understood the sad girls, thick, black eyeliner running down, who cut. Until now. And maybe I haven't yet Maybe I never will. But the sting of the knife would be so much more tangible Than the ache I feel Every time I think about how you aren't here.

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Aug 15, 2014

Aug 15, 2014 at 2:17 PM UTC

Mother Nature's Blade

The idea of a fat rain drop smacking my shoulder blade is both wildly unsatisfying and much sweeter than the slice of a blade across my forearm. But in the real world Raindrops don't bruise don't damage don't break the skin like my glistening friend can. I never understood the sad girls, thick, black eyeliner running down, who cut. Until now. And maybe I haven't yet Maybe I never will. But the sting of the knife would be so much more tangible Than the ache I feel Every time I think about how you aren't here.

17

I still catch your scent on things every so often. Isn't that dumb? But they're things that have nothing to do with you. Like my roommate. Or a complete stranger. Or this one corner of my desk. Not one of your old T shirts (because you never gave me one). I hate these strangers and desk corners for smelling like you. How dare they remind me of such euphoria? My nostrils fill with the scent of laundry, soap, cotton, and loyalty. ******* loyalty. My eyes flutter closed My brain fuzzes The corners of my mouth turn up slightly And I expect to see you in front of me And feel your flannel against my cheek And your dry, cracking fingers against my palms. But you aren't there. I get disoriented for a moment. I spritz. Sanitize. Breath deeply. Avoid that stupid desk corner Because I'm sick of being reminded that I'm still in love with you.

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Aug 15, 2014

Aug 15, 2014 at 2:12 PM UTC

Dumb Desk Corner

I still catch your scent on things every so often. Isn't that dumb? But they're things that have nothing to do with you. Like my roommate. Or a complete stranger. Or this one corner of my desk. Not one of your old T shirts (because you never gave me one). I hate these strangers and desk corners for smelling like you. How dare they remind me of such euphoria? My nostrils fill with the scent of laundry, soap, cotton, and loyalty. ******* loyalty. My eyes flutter closed My brain fuzzes The corners of my mouth turn up slightly And I expect to see you in front of me And feel your flannel against my cheek And your dry, cracking fingers against my palms. But you aren't there. I get disoriented for a moment. I spritz. Sanitize. Breath deeply. Avoid that stupid desk corner Because I'm sick of being reminded that I'm still in love with you.

23

When I don't call for weeks, remind me of the nights I stayed up to tell you what love feels like. Remind me of the way the sun came through the tops of the trees and hit our twinned-skin as we pedaled through the park. Remind me of your terrible jokes (you won't have to). When I don't want to come home for Christmas, remind me of all the times you wanted to sit with me but would never say it. Of all the things you never understood about me that I'd never explain (even when you asked) Like how I cried when we left New York And why I hated Dad for so long. Remind me that we're friends. Remind me that through gritted teeth, clenched fists, and rolling eyes, I love you

0

Aug 15, 2014

Aug 15, 2014 at 1:40 PM UTC

Oh Brother

When I don't call for weeks, remind me of the nights I stayed up to tell you what love feels like. Remind me of the way the sun came through the tops of the trees and hit our twinned-skin as we pedaled through the park. Remind me of your terrible jokes (you won't have to). When I don't want to come home for Christmas, remind me of all the times you wanted to sit with me but would never say it. Of all the things you never understood about me that I'd never explain (even when you asked) Like how I cried when we left New York And why I hated Dad for so long. Remind me that we're friends. Remind me that through gritted teeth, clenched fists, and rolling eyes, I love you

17

I'm thinking about you a little bit. Okay, a lot. Maybe because your lips were the last to touch mine (6 days ago) (and counting) Or maybe because you tried to Skype me from your roof last night. That was sweet of you. But also so very representative of your lack of l o g i c & r e a s o n. You worry me. Did you know that? Maybe. Maybe I think about you because you're great at *** I'd like that to be the reason. But it isn't. Because now when I think about you I don't think about ******* **** I think about when you kissed me in that stupid deli. I think about when you danced with me down Boylston. And how you always tell me to smile And how, for some reason, that makes me want to frown. And how being with you makes me want to tell someone I love them. But not necessarily you… And how you inspire me to create things. Anything. Like stream of consciousness poetry. So thank you. But then again This didn't turn out very well, did it?

0

Aug 15, 2014

Aug 15, 2014 at 1:31 PM UTC

A Stream of Consciousness Poem About a Boy I May or May Not Like

I'm thinking about you a little bit. Okay, a lot. Maybe because your lips were the last to touch mine (6 days ago) (and counting) Or maybe because you tried to Skype me from your roof last night. That was sweet of you. But also so very representative of your lack of l o g i c & r e a s o n. You worry me. Did you know that? Maybe. Maybe I think about you because you're great at *** I'd like that to be the reason. But it isn't. Because now when I think about you I don't think about ******* **** I think about when you kissed me in that stupid deli. I think about when you danced with me down Boylston. And how you always tell me to smile And how, for some reason, that makes me want to frown. And how being with you makes me want to tell someone I love them. But not necessarily you… And how you inspire me to create things. Anything. Like stream of consciousness poetry. So thank you. But then again This didn't turn out very well, did it?

27

I have you all the good parts none of the bad but I still cry myself to sleep Why hasn't my reflection grown thinner Why is nothing fulfilling Why do my addictions grow Why do I still feel dead Why haven't my thoughts turned pretty Why haven't you fixed me? Can anyone fix me?

0

Aug 15, 2014

Aug 15, 2014 at 1:22 PM UTC

Fix Me

I have you all the good parts none of the bad but I still cry myself to sleep Why hasn't my reflection grown thinner Why is nothing fulfilling Why do my addictions grow Why do I still feel dead Why haven't my thoughts turned pretty Why haven't you fixed me? Can anyone fix me?

11