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 Sep 2018 Joliver
there are times
when i want to hold you
here in my arms
close to my heart
and then there are times
when i dream about us
and you
mainly just you
but the ways i want you
and in that time
you also hold someone else
in your arms
close to your heart
and i realize
that is the only time
i couldn’t feel
more broken
knowing you
will never be mine
to love
i’ve grown weak because of it..
 Sep 2018 Joliver
She’s a sunny day.
You meet her and her laugh makes your heart curl into your chest. You asked her out and she glow with happiness. You think that your heart was made to feel like this, or maybe it was made to complement hers.

She becomes a lightning storm.
You think she’s a masterpiece hiding in storm clouds, but you forget about the thunder. You don’t tell her how it feels to hold her hand, so she lets go. She moves on before you realize it’s raining, but when you do find out it feels like drowning. You spend the next six months trying to breathe.

She becomes the chill in the air.
You can breathe until she sneaks in beside the fall leaves. She comes back so quietly that you don’t realize until your heart starts to pound. You pause, but six months of overheating and a hurting heart make the decision. You choose to repeat, you choose the changing weather. Now you laugh together over a cup of coffee, and you think you know what happiness is.

She becomes a snow storm.
She’s slow and steady and if you hold her she’ll melt. When you tell you need her she’s already gone. The next time you see her it will freeze your heart over.

She becomes a soft summer rain.
You spend the summer months forgetting that girl with galactic eyes. One day you realize she pales in comparison to the summer sunset, another day you realize the ocean pales in comparison to her.

Beware of them who change like the weather; they live in cycles you’ll always fall out of. It’s better to admire seasons than people who embody them.

Beware of me.
I look at my old insta posts and realize how different things were. How I could still feel and touch each moment. But then, I also see how everything has changed. How I was just alone before trying to cope. How the new place we moved into is now getting old. And how different we all are now.
It's true that we do not stop evolving, or changing.
And I am not sure if it's a good or a scary thought.
 Aug 2018 Joliver
"I wish the rain would pass us by,"
They say as droplets fall from high
I nod my head as if to say
I think so too, but as it may
I love the rain, the life it gives
The way it makes me want to live
Inside my head, so deep inside
I murmer out an "I don't mind,"

"This freezing cold is hard to bear,"
They say with hats upon their hair
I smile back, pretend to be
What they seem to expect of me
But where the cold is colder still
Inside my mind, the freezing chill
I whisper back my icy side
"But I don't mind, no, I don't mind,"

"I can't stand when I'm all alone,"
They cry out with a striking moan
I laugh inside but nod my head
(Their trifling ways are better fed)
This time I whisper oh so slight
An, "I don't mind, no I don't mind,"

These people, they don't understand
That life does not go as it's planned
And we can choose our path we take
And sometimes ones that we don't make
So take your path, and you will find
That you don't mind, no, you don't mind
 Aug 2018 Joliver
when someone sees your scars or cuts, do they really see?
do they see the metal pain, or do they see the physical pain?

when someone sees your blade do they see the metal that scars your skin, or do they see the words that scar your skin?

when someone sees your tears do they see your sadness, or do they see the demons running around your head causing pain where they step?

when someone sees your progress do they see you using coping skills and no cuts on your wrists, or do they see the feelings you fake and the cuts on your thighs instead?
 Aug 2018 Joliver
We cannot write silence.
The beats.
The pause.
The breath.
The way it aches
and persists

and begs that,

if only for a moment,

our consciousness is only a whisper.
our bodies,
our lips,
the air that passes through falling chests
and stillness.

A melody of emotion.
Sleeping in the quiet of a heartbeat skipped
a word lost to the wind.

The wickedness of reticence
Encapsulated in air and time.

The moment stretched too long.
Hesitation perpetuated in the grip of fingernails
pressed into palms.

We cannot write silence,
but we can try.

to find a way to immortalize emotion
to create space
in the ceaseless drone of words that speak and spin.

I cannot write silence. But I can write
tears and years
and the burn of long-stretched lies.

I can write goodbyes and hellos
And dozen ways to say
I love to hate you
I hate to love you
and sometimes
I cannot tell the difference.
The space I have upheld for myself.

I love to hate you

I hate to love you too.

I cannot write silence.
But I know it.
and I have held it in my hand.
Inspired by the Vanity Fair article of André Aciman's reaction to his book *Call Me By Your Name* being made into a movie. Specifically the quote, "I couldn't write silence."
 Aug 2018 Joliver
Seán Mac Falls
Rose of your ear,
Lantern in your eyes,
Forest of branching hair,
In Inverness of your midlands,
I shall broach lit vernal deltas,
Kiss deep into darkling depths,
Climb the leaved trunks of thigh,
Drunk in the moisted, muted sighs
Of promise, tendered to surrender,
I shall know your ripened *******,
As bloom of moon paints moons
At night, I will be ****** in milk—
That offers itself to leeching babe,
With little, lithe fingers you rake one,
A wan vagabond, *****, homeward,
I shall know your flowing wetness,
Below my desert, with purpose,
I am lost, in sleep and dream,
May I never wake, may I
Sleep, never, may eye
Always open, keep
In tableaus of oil,
Strokes, hues,
Of you.
 Aug 2018 Joliver
Lore and Legend
Who understands poets like us?
We see the universe in a person
We see sadness as a plus
We see the good when times worsen

Who can understand us?

We sit back and daydream
When others would despair
We grasp the magic of the moonbeam
Our hearts awaken to the fair

Who can understand us?

We put words to the artist's soul
We write the songs of bards
To voice the immortal is our goal
Of ancient legends we are guards

Who can understand poets like us?
Who can understand our hopes, our loves, or dreams except...
Each other
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