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Genevieve Aug 2016
Keep drinking from that tap
Even when you grow weak
Return still to take another gulp
Make yourself sick from it

But keep going back
Until it ******* kills you.


I stretch my hand out
Red with warm, healing heat
Burning up from my gut
Supercharged by my longing heart

You're just within reach
Let me touch you.
A suggestion from a dear friend to combine two previous poems since they were eerily similar.  I like it!
Genevieve Jul 2015
I close my eyes
Exhale
Disbelief flutters in my stomach
As you drape your arm over my side
Your hand slides up my stomach
And you fingers find my hand.
I think I forgot to breathe.
The air feels full of static
My lungs tingle with the shocks

You pull yourself close
Nip my shoulder.

I think I might catch fire from the explosions
My nerves dance
All the way to my toes
I curl them up instinctively

We lay there, breathing
Inhale
You smell of campfire, alcohol, and J
So delicious, tantalizing,
I want to fill my chest with your scent

You pull me close to you
Breathe in
Ecstasy
I roll to face you
Afraid, hesitant
This could still all be in my head.
Slowly, I look up to meet your eyes
Captivated
Blues, greens, hints of yellow gold
Universes, built of all your intricacies and thoughts

Clinging to you, I am frozen
Afraid of this dream that will end any moment
Scared that you will wake up,
And realize that moments like these
Are dead to you.
But you don't,
The dream continues

I'm staring at you
You're staring at me
Suspended in time, waiting

Suddenly
You're kissing my neck,
Hands in my hair,
Pulling me closer, pulling me in
Surprise meets bliss
And I cling tighter, nails on your skin
Surrendering, I fight to keep up
Kissing, holding, feeling you

We break apart.

Your eyes are wide,
I smile, almost laughing in ecstasy
Your eyes grow intense,
And we slowly, hesitant,
Lean close
And intertwine once more.

Smooth and seamless.
Our bodies remember even if our minds forget.
For my fellow lonely poets, remembering can sometimes be a helpful escape.
475 · Feb 2017
Just 10 words
Genevieve Feb 2017
My love for you
Cannot be contained
By ten words
469 · Dec 2016
What you see, I see
Genevieve Dec 2016
A cliché I've heard before
One that hits the sternum
And knocks your breath out.
And now it applies to me.

A loving friend pointed it out to me
Handed me her glasses and said,
"Take a better look, love."
And she was so right.

Seeing it clearly
For the first time in what feels like years
I know the truth,
What you see in me.

An option you don't want to lose
But will never make a priority
Above all your other
Pretty, shiny, sparkly, more interesting, more intelligent, more playful, more down-to-****, down-to-party, less uptight, less afraid, less work, less stressful,
Less me
Options.
458 · Jul 2016
Saturday, you dive deep
Genevieve Jul 2016
You're about to reach terminal velocity
With the biggest grin on your face
Symbolically giving your dad the ultimate *******.
The only way you know how,
Plummeting to the earth like a raindrop

I mean, after all,
You are the rain.

But there you go
No fear, no anxiety,
Just weightlessness
For a few seconds, maybe more
How should I know,
I've never jumped out of a plane before.

If I know you at all,
You'll be thinking of him the whole way down.
Wish I could be there.
You'll be truly happy, if only for a moment
Because I know,
This is the last way to feel close to him anymore,
To flirt with death,
To peek through the curtains to the underworld,
To try to catch a glimpse, or maybe a shiver,
An impression of his essence, his soul.

You might even judge yourself for humoring such whimsy.
But don't you remember,
Those who shun the whimsy of things
Will experience rigor mortis before death.

So flirt with death if you must.
Do every stupid thing,
But please promise to come back.

Fight.
Purgatory was never meant to be your home.
Escape.
Don't relent when the maze locks you in.
Fight of your demons, love,
In whatever ways you deem necessary.
Live.

Wander back
And flash me that tortured half-grin.

*What do I think of that?
I think it could make the world a better place.
Skydiving, the ultimate '*******.' Reading Still Life With Woodpecker has me thinking a lot.
452 · Jan 2017
You blinked.
Genevieve Jan 2017
Coward.**
You can't even cut the cord
On promises you don't intend to keep.
Drunken wishing words once spoken
Asking for time
Time to grow
But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?
Why grow up man up speak up be up own up break up
When you can just sit back and enjoy the ride?
The calendar will end it for you soon enough,
What's the point in saying it before time runs out?
And she's a smart girl right?
She'll figure it out on her own,
She might not even need you to say it.
Score.

Or how about your friend that you didn't stand up for?
No, you'd rather keep quiet
While your current and ongoing **** buddy besmirches a friend's reputation.
Why step in, none of your business,
Right?
Why risk losing good ***?

Whatever happened to vigilante justice?
Whatever happened to standing up for what was right?
So focused on physical altercation,
You can't see right in front of you the damage being done.
Don't you see that sometimes justice doesn't resemble
Dressing up in skate pads and a leather jacket?
Sometimes it just takes a sentence,
"Hey, I heard what you said about my friend,
That's not okay."

Too scared to let someone you love down,
Even when it's the whole hearted truth.
A truth you **** well owe them if you know.
Too scared to stand up for your friends in the face of ******* and ****** gratification.
A quite literal ******* coward.

What did I ever see in you?
This one was previously unlisted. I learned some things about a dear friend that really upset me, and fortunately I later got clarification that changed how I felt. So while this poem is no longer relevant to me, it still holds some catharsis.
448 · Jul 2016
Running away
Genevieve Jul 2016
I can't help but wonder what I did
Uncertain, unknowing.
What made you stay
But the moment you were away,
You just kept on running.
What magic trick were my hands weaving
Behind my back, unseen, unfelt?
What did I do to make you stay,
Am I guilty of manipulation?
Because once you stepped out that door,
You were never coming back,
And yet,
Before you left,
Before you took those steps
You said it was difficult, painful
That you didn't want to.

So what made you stay?
And what's making you run away?
446 · Aug 2015
Tell it to me
Genevieve Aug 2015
Tell me something beautiful.
Tell me something that will have me
Sitting on the edge
Anticipating.
Whisper to me
Those tumultuous intricacies
You carry in your chest
Let magical phrases
Flit across your tongue into the air
Like butterflies
Akin to the ones in my esophagus.

Tell me of tomorrow
What adventures lie in wait for us
Where you'll take me
What we'll see

Weave a blanket from the tales of the past
That I may wrap myself up into
While you're away.

Tell me what's good
What's bad,
What's sad
What's bothering you,
Making you mad.

Spill it all
Like the milk our mothers didn't cry over,
Like the blood, a brother's pact,
Like the ink on the page,
Like the beans, as they say.

Open arms, ears, eyes,
I'm listening.
Tell me something, Beautiful.
443 · Aug 2016
I am the sieve.
Genevieve Aug 2016
She's a deep breathe of happiness
Or at the very least
She's not sticky with the muck of sadness

I can see it now.
Why you needed them
Your light in the darkness that was my life
Your life vest in my treacherous waters

Baby, I'm the shark.
And the sad fact is
I may be made of fire
But I am no beacon of hope, light, and laughter

It doesn't make you a bad person
To not want to burn for me
Like I burn for you
This is what love looks like for me

But I am certain,
If you ask,
They'll see my shade of grey
and not just your black and white.

I release the smoke in the night,
Not the blackness itself
Think on that, if you will think on me at all.
In the mean time
Know that I finally understand
Why you needed all of them.
Some people just cannot see the middle ground. This is the shade of grey in your black and white world. Likewise, realizing my own affect on those in my life has been eye opening.
440 · Aug 2016
Your side of the bed (10w)
Genevieve Aug 2016
Still sleeping with the tv on


Missing your light snores
Genevieve Jul 2015
I find my thoughts of you hiding out in the shower
They float effortlessly on air, peaceful
But the moment I turn on the water,
And sit,
They attack,
Descending upon me mercilessly.
I pull my knees up for protection,
Curl myself up like a fetus
All to no avail.

*You’re sitting across from me
As I try to avoid the scorching hot water
You lean in, unflinching to the heat
And say to me, “You’re beautiful.”
Another old one, from last year.
Genevieve Jan 2017
"I'm happy for you."
But I'm not.

Okay, maybe that's not really true.
I'm happy you can wake up each morning
Warm, not alone, safe,
Smiling.
I'm glad that you have someone to go home to,
Someone to sit beside at the bar,
Someone to get brunch with,
Someone to go vegan for,
But I'm not happy it's her.

Something in the way she looks at me
And what she says about me when drunk
Something about her fake glasses
And her fake hair,
And, apparently, her fake smile,
Makes me worry about you,
About our friendship.

When the time comes,
When she asks you to choose,
What's going to happen then?
Genevieve Mar 2015
the moments before art happens
are Agony.
like giving birth,
you're forcing out this potential for greatness
pushing this creativity
out of tiny pores in your skin

you feel like you're exploding.

brain battles heart
inner turmoil erupts
just like the layers of your skin want to do
and it all plays out to the soundtrack of
"i can't do this"

pain of birth, of explosions, of erupting
for some it is all too much
too much to bear that
we let our fear

take Control
and we cave.
put down the brush, the pen, the music,
and we step away
into regret, into sadness

the moments before art happens
are Agony.
Genevieve Feb 2016
Slate, black and still.
It's for your protection
Imitate slate, cold, impersonal rock.
Don't let it show

The turmoil and chaos reining inside
The frantic thoughts,
The panicked breathing
Be still as glass on the surface
Like a rip tide, undetectable.

Take a deep breath,
And pretend.



                 I can't live like this anymore.
421 · Feb 2017
I don't know, either.
Genevieve Feb 2017
You say that you are the rock
And you dare not ask me
To be your eternal bearer up the mountain,
That you are a burden
Meant to be left behind.
You tell me you are the moss,
That you cannot be the cactus I once claimed,
And I should let you roll on
Alone.

But don't you know who you are?
Who we are?
You are more than rock,
You are stardust, realized.
We are the exploding, near-eternal fires that light the night
And paint the sky
We are constellations chasing head over tail
Around this globe
Always a horizon line out of reach.
You are the flames of summer,
Offspring to Prometheus,
The King of Wands,
Sacrificing your lungs in an ancient ritual
Of flames that bear your name.
We are born from fire
Our very strength forged in the pyre.

You are no succulent,
Though your heart may masquerade as one sometimes.
You are stealing after the sun,
The first sign of life in a rocky wasteland,
You come with the lichen,
And you cling to existence like a cliff edge.
Allowed to thrive,
You are soft and yielding,
Laying yourself down for the comfort of others.
Seemingly simple, but within,
You turn the very stone into life.

A curse and burden, you are not.
You are the rightful heir of fire
To stars that sing your name.
You may seem to drown in the wasteland,
Surrounded by endless void
But, love, don't you know what those lungs can do?
Breathing life into stone,
Come alive.

Someday, maybe at 35 (or 25),
You may no longer need Sisyphus.
What then?
A love poem, sort of? For you.
420 · Sep 2016
The temperature is dropping
Genevieve Sep 2016
The faeries are out today
I can feel then tickling my skin
Riding zephyrs like kites
Dancing on the branches
Rattling leaves like maracas
Crooning like sirens in the alleys
Hear them howl

Fall is on its way
420 · Apr 2016
I remember
Genevieve Apr 2016
Remember when you first told me?
How you told me a story about a comic strip first,
Then you uttered the words through your teeth.
"I love you."
Do you remember the electricity of that moment?

I do.
I treasure the memory,
And the memories of all the times you told me after.
How we would laugh at its newness,
And the feelings that came with it.

I remember how those words could light up the dark,
Like the days when my mood turned stratus and murky.
You would stand close and whisper in my ear,
And still, we could laugh.

But now, when the night has come,
I remember how you say it less and less.
I remember you stopped laughing
That you don't seem mystified by it anymore,
And when I stand close and whisper in your ear,
You dimly mutter back,  "you too."

When all this is over,
I can say
That I remember
The beginning of the end.
And still,
I'll love you.
When things get tough, you sometimes wonder how you'll end up. This is one of those times for us. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.
415 · Dec 2015
Why walk when you can fly?
Genevieve Dec 2015
I wonder if the birds in the sky
Truly do look down on us lowly beings.
All we can do is walk,
While they fly
Our skill levels are subpar,
Even as we learn to walk, to run and swim and...
We'll never be as good as them.
Do they know it?
Is it a conscious thought
That birds are superior
To us walkers on the ground.

Do they think about how boring it must be for us?
Do they think of us as lesser than them?

Even though it's true,
Like many things in life,
It would hurt worse to know
That they pride themselves on their superiority.
"I'd be bored."
Genevieve Jul 2017
They told me what didn't **** me would make me stronger.
They lied.
What didn't **** me made me damaged,
Defective, unable to function at "acceptable" levels.
Traumatic experiences didn't build some great wall to fortify my resolutions in life
Instead, they shook my foundations with ferocity,
Slashing cracks down my walls, crumbling rooms to rubble

They planted bombs for later,
Little surprises once the aftershocks faded
With triggers tucked away safe, wrapped up like gifts.

No, what didn't **** me made me want to disappear
Over, and over, and over.
And even almost 7 years later,
There are still detonators being uncovered.

Sure, now I know the paths to avoid
The piles of broken memories, loneliness, and displacement
To keep out of sight.
And still,
There are some days, but mostly nights
When the bombs go off in succession
And I have to bring myself back from the dark
Over. And over. And over.

And there are some nights
Where I'm the one holding the switch
I'm the one willing my world to explode into shrapnel.
And someone else has to bring me back
Over. And over.

They lied.
What doesn't **** you doesn't make you stronger,
It makes you a survivor, even if you sometimes don't want to survive.
And it leaves you with the scars every survivor bears,
Seen and unseen.
Sometimes it genuinely surprises me what sets me off (and what makes me want to crawl up under rock).
412 · Oct 2016
Still, you burn
Genevieve Oct 2016
Even after
All
This
Time

You still captivate me.
Picturesque in your passion
Like a lighthouse,
Channeling your energy, golden.
You shine

And though there are times when it hurts to stare
I can't look away from your flame.
410 · Feb 2016
You are not them.
Genevieve Feb 2016
So many years of lies and cheating

I have to keep reminding myself,
You are not them, you are not them, you are not them.
You are not texting hookups behind my back,
You are not saying you love me to make me stay,
Nor are you with me out of pity, trying to fix me.

It's such a fine line sometimes, trust and naivety.
But I have to keep reminding myself,
You are true, and you are not them;
You would not do what they did,
Or say what they said.


They never tell you how hard it is to actually be happy once you've made it out of hell. It haunts you with every unexplained smile.
Genevieve Jan 2017
I waited.
You never showed,
I'll bet you never will.
Right in the gut.
407 · Jun 2017
Shake the dust
Genevieve Jun 2017
Like two overstuffed pillows long forgotten in the attic
Slammed together in a great concussion of sound
BLOOF
All those particles of god knows what flying into the air,
We call them bunnies
because it's safer than acknowledging all the creepy crawlies now flying into our nostrils
I am shaking the dust off of these lobes in my head
Clearing out proverbial cobwebs
And beating bad habits with broomsticks
Like you would an old rug.

*Shake the dust off
And start writing again.
406 · Jul 2015
Waking Up
Genevieve Jul 2015
I want to wake up
With the first tendrils of morning
Peeking through the curtains
And feel the warmth of you on my back.
I want to roll over,
Breathe you in,
And sigh with all the content that my chest can hold.
I'll look at your sleeping, relaxed features,
Recalling all the mornings and midnights like this one
Where I lay beside you and smile
Disbelieving.
Your skin is hot and sticky from the cramped space of my toosmallbed
And your breathing tends to light snores
that lull me to sleep most nights.
Your arms are stretched above your head
And I run my finger over their graceful lights and shadows.
Your back rises and falls with every glorious breath
and your eyes flutter, hidden beneath those long, dark lashes.
Blissful, I smile,
And wrap myself into you,
Wanting to soak up your essence,
And sleep in the high of your presence in my bed.

My touch rouses you briefly,
Just long enough for you to turn on your side
And wrap your arms around me,
Accepting.


But it's time to wake up for real,
And realize that all that's left
Is the memory of your embrace.
Sometimes I get stuck in my head and this is where it takes me. What a *****.
Genevieve Oct 2017
Was there ever a time
When fear and neurosis
Didn't slam dance their way out
Of the birdcage between my armpits?

When did my ears not ring with tinnitus
Lines on repeat like
"They don't care."
And
"You're worthless."

When did I stop treading water?
When did I start using loved ones as life rafts,
Shoving them beneath the surface
If only for one quick gasp of air?

When did the sadness get so immense,
It formed its own gravitational pull?
Like a black hole in space,
******* in all the surroundings.

When did I stop feeling like enough?

Like the moment a meteor earns its "-ite,"
Epiphany has struck and leaves a trail of realization.

All that remains
Is the decision to make things right.
In all the stress life can bring, I've found it's hard sometimes to keep my head up and in the right place. As a result, I've been a ****** friend, and it's time to start rebuilding.
Genevieve Dec 2016
Potential.
Enough to graze your fingertips across
The kind that enduces goosebumps
A soft weight dangling from your limbs
A nauseousness pumping adrenaline into your circuits
The Almost.

And now it's over.
The precipice,
The "one ill-timed-slip" into seduction,
The conscious choice to stay on the cliff
To not tumble into selfish indulgence,
This once-favored hang out, gone.
Nothing but a meadow,
Grassy, blooming, safe.

The adrenaline, the temptation, the choice
Vanished.
Nothing but a humid breeze to imply movement
A hint that something was once here, before.

And now, just another memory.
Another secret.
402 · Feb 2016
What comes next?
Genevieve Feb 2016
The closer you get to her, the further away you become.

Ten words cannot express the full story.
You love her,
And it scares you.

Scares you into others' arms and legs
Scares you into silence
Scares you into distance
Scares you into over-thinking
Scares you into pushing her away

And it scares you
And it's scaring her.

And the pressure is on.
What comes next?
401 · Jul 2016
Missing you, missing me.
Genevieve Jul 2016
You miss me.
At least, I think that's what this means.
That when our eyes meet in passing
And I can feel your melancholy from 20 feet away,
That when you confess you've been listening to mixes made just for you,
That when I had to leave and we embraced
It felt like clinging to a cliff-face,
That maybe it all meant that you missed me.

When you went looking for me at work,
When you squinted into the windows as you passed
Looking for me to be there
Were you thinking of me?
Were you missing me?

Tell me something,
When you're with her,
Do you think of me?
When you're kissing her neck in passionate moments,
Do I ever cross your mind?
When you're about to fall asleep at night,
Those moments before unconsciousness seeps into your skin,
Am I passing through your thoughts?

You miss me, maybe.
I can't quite tell for sure,
So I rely on hope.
But darling,
You beautiful, shattered, bittersweet soul,
I miss you to the depths,
So much sometimes that it steals my breath.
Please don't let it be like this forever. I'd give anything to hear your voice.
400 · Mar 2017
Disconnect
Genevieve Mar 2017
My grasp on the English language
Is far too insufficient
To explain what is happening inside my head.
It is even more futile,
When I attempt to explain what transpires
In my body.
There are no words
For what causes the disconnect between the two.

These are the only words I could find:
I'm sorry.
394 · Aug 2016
Funny, but not humorous
Genevieve Aug 2016
Funny how just the mention of your name still makes my blood race and breath quicken.
392 · Aug 2015
Untitled
Genevieve Aug 2015
New beginnings?
Yeah, the universe has a sadistic
Sense of humor.
382 · Sep 2015
Panic
Genevieve Sep 2015
The panic is setting in.
It started in my ankles,
Shivering its way up
To the sweat on the back of my knees.

Creeping,
Crawling up my thighs in goosebumps
Chills.
It reaches its slimy, mangled claw
U
P
And clenches my stomach,
Digging into my diaphragm
And pulling down.

Breaths turn fragile,
Like butterflies taking flight
Light
And shallow.

The panic
Has set in.
Home life is getting interesting.
381 · Sep 2015
Time out
Genevieve Sep 2015
My insides are dancing a nervous jig,
And my toes are taptaptapping the crazed beat.
All the sudden I am six again,
That scared little girl, afraid of being in trouble
But I've been accused
Accused of misleading, manipulating, and lying
To the man I trust
By the man I trust.
A capital offense, I would say.

So I lay here,
Playing the waiting game of
Figgety fingers, tapping toes, and absent appetite
Wondering where I broke your faith
Searching my motives, coming up empty-handed
Lost as to why you'd stay if you believed me false.

How can I show you the truth?

I was just a scared and lonely girl
Who wanted to share a piece of happiness
With a scared and lonely boy.

I am not here to chain you down.
How could you want to be with me after thinking I was wronging you in such a way?
Genevieve Jul 2015
I want to wake in the middle of the night, only conscious enough to recognize your scent, to the sensation of you pulling back my covers and climbing into bed with me. I want to drift off again, only after you’ve enveloped me with your body, to the gentle whisper of your breath on the back of my neck. My last thought before unconsciousness settles back over my mind will be your name, and how I’ve missed you.
From July 2014
381 · Jan 2017
When it comes down to it
Genevieve Jan 2017
I know I chose this
I put myself here,
Chose to walk this path
Instead of all the others.
I could still be your best friend
You could still be mine
I could pretend to have casual *** with you
If only to have those still moments in the dark after.
Instead I chose the alternative.

No more smothering you in hopes,
Expectations we'll never live up to,
And affection you don't want.
No more fighting over who gets the outside of the bed,
Or whose fault it is that I take too long in the shower,
Which position to fall asleep in.
Little spoon.

They keep telling me this is right,
This is what's best for the both of us
Since we two are in different life chapters.
(I claim chapter 46,
when Woodpecker tells Leigh-Cherie
that Love is the ultimate outlaw)

The rift I conceived when I pushed you away
Holds nothing but echos
Memories.
They tell me it's time,
But I don't need to make room in my life
When I already found my person.

I want to tell you all of it
Every syllable I could summon up
To explain
But all I can muster up are fighting words


**And *******,
I miss you.
377 · Oct 2015
Beautiful (10w)
Genevieve Oct 2015
Looking at you
I know
Broken things are still beautiful
A concept for a poem I want to take the time to actually write sometime soon
371 · Jun 2016
Flirting with death
Genevieve Jun 2016
Make your move.
Go ahead.

Forget about me,
Not that you don't already
Every time you walk out that door.

Bury your guilt,
Your pain, your hate, your love
Go ahead and bury it
In any girl who will take you to bed with her.

Forget about me,
About you
About us.
Take your onemancircus to the next destination.
Don't get help.
Don't fight those demons.
Let your fear and self-hatred rule you.

I guarantee they'll get you far.
But they might also **** you,
In one way or another.

Living on the precipice,
Dancing with the shark in your head
Induces the biggest rush, sure.
But when you trade emptiness for loneliness,
Friendship for lust,
Health for adrenaline,

You'll end up hanging from that precipice,
By your fingertips.
How long can you hold on?
360 · Oct 2015
Rest, Love
Genevieve Oct 2015
Breathe in sleep, my dear
For, waiting in the darkness,
Hopes and dreams await
Tomorrow is another day.
359 · Jun 2016
10 fucking words.
Genevieve Jun 2016
She said, "Usually in my experience, Jon isn't ******* fine."
353 · Feb 2016
An unusual homecoming
Genevieve Feb 2016
Feels like returning to the scene of a crime
The walls have seen horrors,
Lies unspeakable
It's like their laughing at me, in their stoic, white silence.
And that bed,
She's flat out staring me down.
There she lies,
Like a naked *******,
Daring me to call her shame.

But I cannot.
Instead I turn my back,
And jot down a few lines.

Now to put on that brave face.
352 · Feb 2017
Metaphoric Forests
Genevieve Feb 2017
I keep tripping on brambles
Scratching my exposed shins,
Ripping at my shoelaces,
Yet somehow I keep upright.
Leaving my well-beaten path behind,
I had forgotten how difficult
Striking out anew always is.

I know I cannot return to the
Comfortable, clear, circular, cyclical path
I'd been wearing down for years.
Looking behind me,
I'm not sure I could even find the way back.
A path that lead only to itself,
But ****, how I miss those views.

My ribs clench at the memories
The smells, the warmth, the ease
But it grew crowded,
No longer a private reverie
No.
I mourn the loss of sacred space.

I keep stumbling, tripping, fumbling forward
Brought back again to this moment.
It's time to cover new ground,
Whether I want to or not.
Genevieve Jul 2015
I am worthless.
Useless.
A failure.
All attempts turn to tar in my hands.
Frustration builds up behind my dam of calm
One more self-loathing thought delivers that defining, final crack
And all composure crumbles.
I hold my breath yet I can't stop the heavy breathing
Anger
All directed at myself
Leaking out of every pore
Every fiber burns
Destroying me
Turning me to ash, waste.
Because that's what I am.

A failure.
Useless, good for nothing.
Lazy, prideful
And worthless to the last drop.
I drop everything I touch before I destroy it
And it destroys me.
A day full of one failed attempt after another, so I'm feeling whiny and down. Sorry for the ******, bummed out poem.
351 · Aug 2016
Everywhere and Nowhere
Genevieve Aug 2016
Everywhere.
Cracks in the brick pavers
Branches in the trees
Water stains on discarded cigarette butts
All resembling lovers mid-embrace.

Dizzy spells,
Deep breaths,
Strained muscles,
Respite.

Gritty acceleration of my car
Climbing wrung after wrung
Descending and reaccending staircases

Today
Has me thinking of you
Everywhere
Bleh. Whatever.
351 · Mar 2017
On going home
Genevieve Mar 2017
In college, going home was always a reprieve
Well, until it wasn't.
Those awkward moments when you'd walk in on an argument,
Or when you had chores again
Like slipping back into your childhood skin
But it was a little tight, constricting.

But home made my chest hum,
No matter how tight the skins I wore became.
Home was a historic ranch with a view of the skyline
It was washing dishes with a view
And spending more time on the porch than in the living room
Home was the first place that actually felt like more than just a house.

Home had a yard, and friendly *** who mowed it
Home was walking outside to the smell of fried dough
Mouth watering for a fresh doughnut down the street.
Home was a garage turned art studio,
Bugs and all
Home was fighting over a single, small bathroom.
And it was just a couple minutes walk into the city.

Cityscapes, always changing.
Now, home is a green field, awaiting development
Home was ripped from beneath us like the run down houses two summers before.
Home is gentrification,
Only a few steps from the balcony of wealthy young professionals
Cozied up in their overpriced studio apartments.
Home still smells of doughnuts
And the driveway in the sidewalk is still there
Home still brings back our perennials,
White, purple, and pink.
Home cannot be taken from us,
She is woven into our very fibers,
But she can never be touched again.

Home was sold, beaten, bulldozed, and cleared away.
Home is just a memory.
But I will still drive by,
Smell that sickly sweet air,
And pick some of her flowers.

Here's to you, my love.
350 · Nov 2015
Let Me Die Young.
Genevieve Nov 2015
Some things, my dear,
Are worth dying for.
Especially happiness.

And the prospect
Of not having one's happiness
Pried from one's weak, aging fingers.

Sometimes,
It's better to die young.
I think.
Watching your grandparent wait for death, wishing it on with each day, is perhaps one of the most heartbreaking things I've encountered in my life. I can't imagine, and I hope I don't ever have to find out how my grandmother feels.
348 · Mar 2015
Enough to Trust
Genevieve Mar 2015
breathing breaths
into beautiful bodies
hands that hinder passage
into hidden places
sacred to those
only enough.
toes and fingertips trembling
at the tickling terror
in those beautiful broken bodies
and love like lilies lying
lies across your lips
open ears earning no trust
in eyes too blind
to notice the pattern
346 · Oct 2017
Is it all fading now? (10w)
Genevieve Oct 2017
He told me he loved me once
I still do.
346 · Aug 2016
And so your life goes on
Genevieve Aug 2016
You're going to be just fine
You've suffered greater losses
Than the likes of me.
Hell, you suffered for me.
It's only fair that I relinquish any hold on you
Set you free from the charcoal chamber of my heart.
I can feel the grates cracking beneath your clenched hands

Run.
Run from here before I devour your light.

Seek the daytime,
Embrace the sunshine, my friend.
No more rainy days
Here comes the sun.
Just for you.
Cue the music. I can hear you singing even now. Mr. Brightside, was it?
344 · Mar 2017
Pessimist.
Genevieve Mar 2017
Baby, I'm a pessimist.
There's no situation I can't find disaster in
I'm smooth and quick on the downfall
Ready to give up hope at every stoplight.

Vending food to hungry dollar signs,
I sell my faith in humanity with every transaction
Each meal comes with a slice of my dignity.

I beg for even one person to surprise me,
Shake my prediction from their shoulders,
All to no avail.
Predictable, granted, solidified in their selfishness

At 3 in the morning,
They're all looking for someone to go home with,
Someone to tell them they have worth,
And they'll willingly bare their teeth should you get in the way.

It's not beautiful anymore,
Watching this dance called humanity.
It's ugly and self-gratifying
And only rarely is Care shown to anyone but children.

We lie, manipulate, and steal from one another
Killing the very earth beneath our feet
And somehow I am still supposed to hope for something better?
I lost that hope when I was still a child,
And the stump left in its place shows no signs of growth.

Baby, I'm a pessimist.
Which is to say,
I'm an *******.
343 · May 2017
"Long distance" is more
Genevieve May 2017
Man, whoever said 'long distance is hard'
Has to be on the royal court of understatements.
It's not hard, it's sitting on the ledge of possible,
Looking out onto the abyss of impossibility.
It's being the one left behind,
Hoping their heart doesn't set up roots where their feet have.
It's being the one who left,
Learning to balance the old life with your new one.

Long distance is paranoia at war with trust.
It's hearing your partner's fingers tap tap tap
On the phone screen,
And wondering what messages this 'nobody' is receiving.
It's having unbalanced days stretched out over hundreds of miles
And hoping they miss you, too.

Long distance is making your dog sleep in their spot
Because that's your version of a warm body.
Long distance is sending them off with love
And hoping it's enough to bring them home safe.
Or bring them home at all.

It's as old as war, adventure, itchy feet,
And I will cling to its age like a prayer
Whispering to it at night in my dog-warmed bed
Asking for the power to not starve off of
10 minute phone calls and 'thank you's.

Because he will always be worth it
but yeah, "hard" somewhat sums it up.
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