Laura

Laura Jan 2023

you’re my little secret, vicious
how you come into my life
without a plan, heaven gracious
when you hold my back, and
tell me you’ve been waiting,
for my texts, i wish i missed my ex,
you look like a convenient solution
to a problem i haven’t defined yet.
because i’m fine - at least
that’s what you call me, to tell me
that your mine for the night, but
i’m not your protector, just a collector
of words, situationships, sometimes
masking longing for maturity, just cause
i’m a therapist, doesn’t mean i make sense.
i still don’t know what i’m longing for,
you stay a while, hold me more,
because i asked, but mostly because
you’re too drunk to drive, you lost
my number in the crash, it was
a while back, so you email me to ask.

Laura Jan 2023

My Life’s a (bad) Movie

sometimes i think my life is a movie,
my consciousness a delighted narrator,
except these aren’t all paid actors,
just some people i met over the years.
friends laugh at my every delusion,
my words are not a plot device,
forgetting how they have consequences,
the character gets no sleep at night.
my love interests don’t speak in haikus,
don’t run after me when i try to leave,
or affectionately rub my back at night
as i finally fight to fall asleep.
mortgage bills pill on my desk,
i look stupid smoking cigarettes,
main character energy is hard to come by,
when you have severe asthma and a god complex,
i guess my life is not a movie,
but at least it passes the Bechdel test.

Laura Jan 2023

Who Cares Less

who cares less,
indifference is a slow death,
i’d rather hate and curses,
a crafted sigh of doubt and annoyance,
i’d rather hear their screams.
anger is swift and cunning,
it makes more sense to believe,
maybe, somethings wrong with me,
i’d rather hot idiosyncrasies,
they don’t want to keep up with me.
indifference is dressed up apathy,
they clean every inch,
but leave baby in the corner -
everything’s just ***** dancing,
i try to mend, but no amends,
indifference is a slow death,
who cares less.

Laura Jan 2023

My Friend

if you weren’t my friend,
i wouldn’t know who i was -
a part of me replaced by insecure ex’s,
musicians with bad communication,
software developers, underdeveloped,
shifting parts of identity made out of static.
i would cry somber and alone again,
instead of under christmas lights
to the Gilmore Girls opening credits,
where we sing too loud to hear our thoughts.
a sour wine bottle between us, and
vacation magnets lining my refrigerator
from all the places we’ve face-timed from.
reviewing in details your love bombing dates
and my anxious attachment -
raw parts that feel unprocessed,
which you quickly dismiss as normal.
i hope he can love me like you have,
simply, softly, like breathing - and
as brilliant and cunning as we can be,
but never as handsome, obviously.
i love to grow our gardens together,
tending to one another’s strengths and
nurturing weakness for authenticity.
i would take the miway, gotrain, and ttc -
just to laugh on the cold beach with you,
and make some mistakes for review
over another cup of coffee.

Laura Jan 2023

i can leave, don’t worry about it

sometimes i think i’d be easier,
if i drifted away so slowly
that i don’t make a shift or screech.
just a click of a door, the floor board
creeking into the night, creeping,
like my writing at dawn stirring,
soft, wistful, and depressing.
i can leave, don’t worry about it -
i know i exist so violently, i like to.
people think i'm off-putting -
they want me to eat my words,
but i just keep typing more and more,
im hungry to disrupt and find peace after.
Emily says i know better,
but i only know a few things, like
i’m annoying and loud, opinions
bustle out of me in vexing prose -
i want to be a good listener,
but i’m selfish. i want to be likeable,
but i’m stuck in muds of misery.
losing the best parts of me
to insecurity and the instagram bots
that like his posts before i do.
how can i compete with algorithms and
softer blondes, waves that glide so gently -
i am a car crash, the intersection preacher,
the storm before the calm, but the calm too.
i want to disappear, i want to be gone,
but there’s always something left to say.

Laura Jan 2023

It’s All Relative, Relational

the world we left, the love we left, light fragrant cologne, wide cappuccino cups, rainy afternoons, and somber evenings, warm soft grips, velvet couches, and awkward silences, four legs fitting closely, overwatered money trees, church bells, crossed arms, rude tones, relentless giggles, prolonged eye-contact, tacos, the funny buzzer entrance, tears, riding skateboards home, watching art, park walks, dinner in, conspiracy videos, avoidance, breakfast sandwiches, fancy pants, closeness, cringe sayings, dad jokes, detachment, attachment, week night calls, impromptu singing, the neighbours parties, your friends drama, my friends drama, our drama, impulsive confessions, snapchat updates, warehouse keyronas, tiny donuts, documentaries, game of thrones, embarrassed, attractive, exciting, the body pillow, convenience stores, your sweater, friendly debate, heated debate, resentment, come on in, open windows, open arms, hurt, resentment, the 501, inside jokes, our secret handshakes, your oatmeal sweatpants, the love we made, and the world we created

Laura Jan 2023

New Years Eve

the afternoon fell like a slate of snow,
tumbling off the rooftops,
a cool haze of memories of the year -
flashing moments of serenity, pain,
and all the stupid ways i’ve loved -
lost and found. if i am anything,
let me be resilient (and humoured) -
this year was an underground parking spot,
takes me 3 point turns, and 20 minutes,
but in the end i get it done, and spend
another 20 minutes laughing about it.
i dance with you to Usher in the car,
water my plants with conviction -
i’m not sure what the plans are now,
i don’t know what the time is,
i’ve just been learning how to be,
authentic and optimistic -
all i have is hope for the new year,
but when i run out of that too,
i have my resilience to keep going.