Laura

Laura May 2018

Rural summer
    simmering and splashing
into shattered empties,
    stark parking lots,
        and suburban love triangles.
But quiet,
    onto 4am dusks -
skip every other step,
      timid wood always wakes parents.
Soon,
   play The Kooks vinyl in the morning,
skip every radio station
      into your 9 to 5 day,
while smiling in
               your dads ancient Subaru.

not great just felt like writing

Laura Apr 2018

late night thoughts

loving someone
does not stop
at the pain
they caused you,
or the pain
you caused them.

it exists somewhere
deep within the mind
between suffering and forgiveness -
because forgiveness IS love,
and that sliver will always remain.

not a real poem by my standards just a piece i've been resting on for a while now

I always have love for the people who were there for me and taught me the lessons I need. I will always have love for anyone who's showed me some, and I will never hate anyone who's ever been themselves to me - those are the truest most soulful people.

I hope one day they see that, and get that I do have love for them, and could never hate them and all the parts of me I gave. I could never hate myself for the parts of me that they gave to me - can't hate myself for the person they helped raise in character, lesson, and love.

Laura Apr 2018

God Made Man

I wanted him strolling through
the lightnings.
Leftover lessons ones I didn't feel
like teaching.
Ones you pick up on the way home,
at Gerrard & Church,
         Streambank & Lornewood.
"Is he gonna be the one
made for you,
         or are you gonna build him."
I never studied architecture.
I never liked small talk
         about overcast weather.
and I never thought love was built

                                    only gathered.

struggling with ideas of love, self-growth, and becoming the right version for the right one.

Laura Apr 2018

Rosemary

Not have been my saviour
without socks -
and off white shirts.
Maybe cause of her pasta stains,
or overwork.

Thin brown locks, and
thick hard words.
Cross off your lists and
dot your T's. Life might
**** us over. But it
won't take her
sharp wits. Blunt
force for intelligence,
lovely soft kindness,
mistaken for
fatal generosities.

You saw no reflection
good enough for telling
your greatest story.
The way a story
"ought to be told".

That's why you had a daughter,
who became a writer. Cause
it always ends up good enough
for both of us,
when a pen's involved.

not a great write, just a 1:30am write for my mom , i'll get back to it later this week

Laura Apr 2018

Half-Eaten Palacinke

I am made of wilted spinach,
soaking in my grandmothers cast iron.
I am craving the hot and heavy words
they feed me.

I am not your songbird,
floating high among the daisy beds.
I am jersey sheets, thick Croatian prayers,
the sharp steady edelweiss
lasting.

I am my Dante Mary’s willowed secrets.
Soft and pillowed – my voice cranked,
trying to reach further than they told me.
I am my grandmother’s angel,
but I am down on earth

crusted.

to my sweet austrian-hungarian-croatian grandmothers and aunties

Palacinke: croatian crepe
Dante: "Aunt"
Edelweiss: Austrian national flower

Laura Apr 2018

Esplanade & Empanadas

Rich rigid bricks,
your sheen green cat eyes.
Your mom’s huevos rancheros -
spilling into noons.

Fireplaces off the window panes,
crisping open a warm chest
for a bed of new delights.
Dozing in my ice sheet hands -
I was meant to be bitten,
then bitter.

Lips pushed their forgetful illusions,
His rememberable forehead lines -
tasking away at lost minutes
of too many 14 hour days.

Here between long firm legs
lying in your large white cottons,
over collections of moles,
and forests of scars.

Wondering if she hurt you
in the same ways
that he hurt me.

Laura Apr 2018

*Probably* Not Your Girl

chocolate godiva hair
          plush pinks
curving
          more than I could
heaven vanillas
          must have tasted
like the almonds
          her skins olive
oiled up for summer
          tasteful photos
you're there too
          in the pools
          reflection
i wish i could
have been        her
selling my sanity
          for an IG
or a glass half empty