z-trista-davis - Hello Poetry

Lying in the dark The sheets wet Skin stuck together like glue I remember what it feels like To laugh with my whole stomach I remember what it feels like To want with my whole body You have unlocked this within me Something I have no name for A hidden corridor into my soul Twenty-seven, And still there are things about myself that I did not know I think perhaps you knew them, though Before we met Messages on a black screen I think you saw the truth of me There is not much here, I worry Just a pearl And we have cracked me open to find it We talk a lot about words Trade our favorites I carefully avoid saying love You carelessly say you love me here over you in bed “Every word in a poem needs to be so exact for the purpose” “Every word should weigh a ton” I read those messages like a poem But I am the fiction-writer between us “A mess” you’d say “Your mess” I think Amiss in this world of sharp and truthful things

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Jul 16, 2025

Jul 16, 2025 at 11:19 AM UTC

It’s fitting that I went to Michigan wine country because I am an expert at bottling things up.

Lying in the dark The sheets wet Skin stuck together like glue I remember what it feels like To laugh with my whole stomach I remember what it feels like To want with my whole body You have unlocked this within me Something I have no name for A hidden corridor into my soul Twenty-seven, And still there are things about myself that I did not know I think perhaps you knew them, though Before we met Messages on a black screen I think you saw the truth of me There is not much here, I worry Just a pearl And we have cracked me open to find it We talk a lot about words Trade our favorites I carefully avoid saying love You carelessly say you love me here over you in bed “Every word in a poem needs to be so exact for the purpose” “Every word should weigh a ton” I read those messages like a poem But I am the fiction-writer between us “A mess” you’d say “Your mess” I think Amiss in this world of sharp and truthful things

30

It occurs to me that I used to fear the dark How odd to have known so much more of myself than of the world What could be out there? Lying in wait All of the wildest threats of my imagination not yet disproved Now the darkest corners of my mind lay unexplored And I have grown worldly in my age I am the monster now And I am already in my bed

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Jan 8, 2025

Jan 8, 2025 at 11:38 PM UTC

It Occurs to Me

It occurs to me that I used to fear the dark How odd to have known so much more of myself than of the world What could be out there? Lying in wait All of the wildest threats of my imagination not yet disproved Now the darkest corners of my mind lay unexplored And I have grown worldly in my age I am the monster now And I am already in my bed

10

I would turn my body into a sunset, if I could [Brooke] I would [Louis] paint my very soul [Louis] across a desert sky And when I had gone When I had faded from this world [Emily] completely [Emily] I would leave a moonless sky in my wake Then you could look upon it [Shelby] And know how much I love you My love could be written [Julianna] out in constellations, Like all the myths of the ancient world I would tell you [Scarlett] how much I love you [Scarlett] , if I could But alas, it is no small or simple thing [But alas, it is no small or simple thing]

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Jan 8, 2025

Jan 8, 2025 at 11:37 PM UTC

Sometimes, I Feel Like a Starry Sky is a Hug from the Universe

I would turn my body into a sunset, if I could [Brooke] I would [Louis] paint my very soul [Louis] across a desert sky And when I had gone When I had faded from this world [Emily] completely [Emily] I would leave a moonless sky in my wake Then you could look upon it [Shelby] And know how much I love you My love could be written [Julianna] out in constellations, Like all the myths of the ancient world I would tell you [Scarlett] how much I love you [Scarlett] , if I could But alas, it is no small or simple thing [But alas, it is no small or simple thing]

12

I do not love your laugh I do not love your smile, Or your eyes, Or the way you hold my hand in yours I do not love the way you blow on the back of my neck to cool me down Or the way that you stroke my shoulder to soothe me I do not love your kindness I do not love your sense of humor I do not love the image of myself I see mirrored in your soul Nor the image of you mirrored in mine I do not love your loyalty, Your quirks, Or your artistic hand What is left to love? You ask Do I love you at all? I love the spaces between you I love the places in you where I have room to breathe I love you in all the cracks, And all the gaps, And all the little crevices My love exists between your neurons firing Between every electron of every atom that is you I love the stitches holding together the fabric of who you are When you hold your hand to a mirror, My love is in the glass between your fingers touching I love the intangible, quiet energy that is only you Without action Without effort Just you Can only ever be you

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Jan 8, 2025

Jan 8, 2025 at 11:29 PM UTC

My Love is Not a Reflection

I do not love your laugh I do not love your smile, Or your eyes, Or the way you hold my hand in yours I do not love the way you blow on the back of my neck to cool me down Or the way that you stroke my shoulder to soothe me I do not love your kindness I do not love your sense of humor I do not love the image of myself I see mirrored in your soul Nor the image of you mirrored in mine I do not love your loyalty, Your quirks, Or your artistic hand What is left to love? You ask Do I love you at all? I love the spaces between you I love the places in you where I have room to breathe I love you in all the cracks, And all the gaps, And all the little crevices My love exists between your neurons firing Between every electron of every atom that is you I love the stitches holding together the fabric of who you are When you hold your hand to a mirror, My love is in the glass between your fingers touching I love the intangible, quiet energy that is only you Without action Without effort Just you Can only ever be you

31

I see lines of you in the silhouettes of the scurf of a world without you I hear your voice calling my name: In empty hallways, Serenades, And odes written on deathbeds, Declaring that your final words should "I love you" And as I lie dow unfamiliarly in a bed without you, I curl up and imagine that you are here, And as I drive back to you-- home, across dark landscapes, The headlights of the oncoming traffic reflect off my glasses and beam through dark air, And your voice calls my name one final time in the lonely hotel room behind me

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Jan 30, 2018

Jan 30, 2018 at 11:42 PM UTC

To Be Alone in Fort Wayne

I see lines of you in the silhouettes of the scurf of a world without you I hear your voice calling my name: In empty hallways, Serenades, And odes written on deathbeds, Declaring that your final words should "I love you" And as I lie dow unfamiliarly in a bed without you, I curl up and imagine that you are here, And as I drive back to you-- home, across dark landscapes, The headlights of the oncoming traffic reflect off my glasses and beam through dark air, And your voice calls my name one final time in the lonely hotel room behind me

11

They say write a poem in ten words, And I think that I can’t pour out my soul in such a small space I think that my mind is worth 15 words at least But I think And I try I crumble up paper like it’s love letters from the people I hate And I write a poem Write my heart and soul out in thin black ink And then I pick the ten words that I can’t set free And they are: small, trees, alone, forest, love, flashlight on a broken sea And I sigh Because I was never good with stories

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Dec 17, 2017

Dec 17, 2017 at 10:03 PM UTC

I Wish I Could Be an Ezra Pound, But I Can Never Keep It Simple

They say write a poem in ten words, And I think that I can’t pour out my soul in such a small space I think that my mind is worth 15 words at least But I think And I try I crumble up paper like it’s love letters from the people I hate And I write a poem Write my heart and soul out in thin black ink And then I pick the ten words that I can’t set free And they are: small, trees, alone, forest, love, flashlight on a broken sea And I sigh Because I was never good with stories

12

I love looking at highways from airplanes, They snake across the blotchy, flat earth And slither into the endless blue haze, I wonder what they find there, Is it love or death? Or old friends? Or happiness? Perhaps, their happiness Is in the curly-q designs They scrawl like ancient script I trace it, Running my fingers over three-pane glass, Until they disappear And the clouds look like fingers and hands, Reaching out to touch me, Expanding with every breath I take, Calling me down to the river, Calling me down to the trees But my happiness is in the single, breathless moment of take-off, The moment I feel my heart lurch, And bang into the something inside me pushing me forward, Into the illusory blue

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Dec 17, 2017

Dec 17, 2017 at 10:00 PM UTC

Escape Velocity

I love looking at highways from airplanes, They snake across the blotchy, flat earth And slither into the endless blue haze, I wonder what they find there, Is it love or death? Or old friends? Or happiness? Perhaps, their happiness Is in the curly-q designs They scrawl like ancient script I trace it, Running my fingers over three-pane glass, Until they disappear And the clouds look like fingers and hands, Reaching out to touch me, Expanding with every breath I take, Calling me down to the river, Calling me down to the trees But my happiness is in the single, breathless moment of take-off, The moment I feel my heart lurch, And bang into the something inside me pushing me forward, Into the illusory blue

22

It’s funny You broke my heart so badly I thought I would die. I came home from the hospital two days post operation after open heart surgery to put it all back together. And I died of an infected wound.

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Dec 17, 2017

Dec 17, 2017 at 9:52 PM UTC

Complications

It’s funny You broke my heart so badly I thought I would die. I came home from the hospital two days post operation after open heart surgery to put it all back together. And I died of an infected wound.

4

I’m driving past the school that I went back to for five, six, seven years straight— The place that grew up around me like a dessert oasis— or Rapunzel’s tower. I wonder if I should stop and put my hands on the old white bricks, Like maybe touching the school will be like touching my childhood and it will heal my broken heart. But I’m already past the turnoff going 45 miles an hour, so I turn my wandering eyes back to the road ahead. And at the green light ahead, my unrequited love is riding a bicycle across the street one-handed and smoking a cigarette, Wearing a shirt that says “please hit me with your car, so that I can just stop feeling” But I swerve, and he slowly pedals on

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Dec 17, 2017

Dec 17, 2017 at 9:45 PM UTC

Smoking is too Slow a Death

I’m driving past the school that I went back to for five, six, seven years straight— The place that grew up around me like a dessert oasis— or Rapunzel’s tower. I wonder if I should stop and put my hands on the old white bricks, Like maybe touching the school will be like touching my childhood and it will heal my broken heart. But I’m already past the turnoff going 45 miles an hour, so I turn my wandering eyes back to the road ahead. And at the green light ahead, my unrequited love is riding a bicycle across the street one-handed and smoking a cigarette, Wearing a shirt that says “please hit me with your car, so that I can just stop feeling” But I swerve, and he slowly pedals on

8

Her messy hands make magic pencil Like holy Gods make worlds And I know she will someday draw my universe-- My universe All stars and no suns, Always so far-- too far Too cold My cold hands on her warm chest Cold hands, warm heart But my love keeps me warm Warmer than goose-down coats and wool socks So much static So much friction So many sparks--electricity, zapping And I am patchwork-quilted memories in her creators' hands

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Dec 17, 2017

Dec 17, 2017 at 9:23 PM UTC

Wool Socks

Her messy hands make magic pencil Like holy Gods make worlds And I know she will someday draw my universe-- My universe All stars and no suns, Always so far-- too far Too cold My cold hands on her warm chest Cold hands, warm heart But my love keeps me warm Warmer than goose-down coats and wool socks So much static So much friction So many sparks--electricity, zapping And I am patchwork-quilted memories in her creators' hands

15