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louella Aug 2023
in moonlight mist beyond my fingertips
i trace the lunar patterns and come down
with a fulfilled thrill cast fishing pole hooks
inside the wild Milky Way galaxy
starlit strips against my lips reflected
by striped curtains folded on window panes
sweet Sirius on stilts along the brink of
reaching slight nightmarish ultimatums
hosted by my own unenthused gimmicks
that sink upon sheepish fragility
imposed by God, the sole pure deity  
though one must utter to the stars thinking
they are to suffer alone, forsaken
instead awakened by the knock of morn
super proud of this. might make sense; might not, but that’s the world idk. thanks for reading :)

8/2/23
louella Aug 2023
darling mellow sunshine,
paint your words upon my tongue
so you do not have to move your lips—
i will do the task for you.

darling hilltop basking bluejay,
dance in defiance
in the long grass—
you never have to impress
anyone, but your creator.

darling dazzling firefly,
shining in the backyard,
sit with me on the porch swing
until the afternoon strikes us groggy
and we will sleep within the overgrown weeds.

darling seaboard sandpiper,
splashing lukewarm waves
upon the body you call yours
dream until your dreams become fulfilled.

darling intimate flower field,
the cumulus clouds above
draw shade upon our upside-down faces
be free and become one with me
a cautious lover,
a dandelion spread by the wind.

adorably flimsy darling,
i love you.
to someone i’m not sure i know yet.
8/1/23
louella Jul 2023
the clock ticks by
foreign matter in my lungs
choking back the truth
and i don’t know why.

homeless nomad
clinging to chains
tied to the ground
clad in wormy silk.

i tried to change
myself for someone like you
someone with a
cruel mind
in place of a crueler being.

i tried to change
all for you
yet still crammed in a jail cell
with rats as friends
who scoff at my
loneliness and
feed off of my fear
take me over,
i don’t desire the person
i have become; who i have tried
not to be
i am my biggest critic and distance from people can show you that you do not need what you thought you needed.

7/29/23
louella Jul 2023
i couldn’t remember your middle
name if you asked me to.
lee or mary?
i’m an island
and you’re nebraska,
surrounded by a
million proud people
positive in a combined effort.
i’m still the same girl who said we would move in together when we were older, but we were twelve and so naïve to the
idea of broken relationships.
the middle of june stings me each year
when the calendar tells me
it was the time you were born
and i can’t write you a note
because i’m too afraid to invest too
much of myself in a girl i don’t even
recognize anymore.
right in the pupils,
you didn’t smile.
i’ll be quiet for the sake of you
i’ll go under your radar
till you forget my meaning
to you.
this love is so selfish or
what would i even call it?
i don’t even think about
you or your prairies
just the childhood memories
shot in the heart of me
by one big arrow
it says “don’t let anyone
be your best friend
because it will end.”
i should have taken that advice
and ran for my unworthy life.
you and i and the months we were born in. one year apart. i miss you like ***** hair misses shampoo.

7/26/23
louella Jul 2023
you are hollow, but i’m whole enough to make a sound for both of us combined. i’m lazy, quite hazy, quite sensitive when it comes to certain topics. standoffish, obnoxious around groups of people i know too fondly, poetry nerd, timid and almost vibrantly in love with the early morning peak of sun peeking through the arms of the tree outside my bedroom window. i’m quite passive, rarely erratic, hesitant but reverent. and you’re a howl-at-the-moon monsoon, curious raccoon, brazen, contagious smiler. and i’m most definitely in some kind of daze, trapped in a trance and you’re the sturdy rope that pulls me from my evitable demise. but i’m seventeen, still unseen, still solitary. still completely and irrevocably in love with the way things feel, dying for the realness of your peace wrapped around my shoulders.
bonfire sitting in a clearing in the woods. it used to be so simple. love, love, love is all i need.

7/26/23
louella Jul 2023
your muted applause
in a vacant miscalculated amphitheater.
if it makes noise,
i don’t hear it.
if it doesn’t,
i’ll pretend to.
i’ll tie your vapid words to my feet
and sing with the past fallen civilizations.
at least we’ll have something in common.
envy like ivy,
creeping up the walls
of my abandoned house in the
middle of the woods.
i’ll preach for the choirs
singing my guts out
for the fakers and
gladiators who all doubt my strength
cause’ pull away when you feel like the plot for ****** is starting to include your name.
somehow it doesn’t stain bitter snakeskin,
it only brings closure to being with who i don’t
consider to listen to
all the notes carried
so forcefully.
my stage is starless,
gotta confess that
the acoustics are awful;
forgot to smile.
you would’ve listened
if you really wanted to.
you would’ve licked the seal of the envelope
mailed it to me
to show your gratitude
and your generosity.
but instead you sit forging
your own signature
on the corpse of this friendship
while i cry over spilled milk
and birthday cake smudges
over tile floors
too repulsed to mop anymore.
too unhinged to care anymore.
too alive to be killed by your sword.
too loud, but not loud enough
for the sound to travel to your eardrums.
still, it’s not much to ask for you to just move
a little closer.
yeah… hard truth.

7/25/23
louella Jul 2023
2020
i’ve never felt more alive and grounded and sure and proud to be who i am. ivory skin, sticky socks on hardwood floor, duets between the mirror and me, squished eyes, staying put on carpet, laughing and yawning and exhaling and inhaling. the curtains kept myself to myself and i smiled like the world would never come to an unexpected close. all the panic ensuing beyond my wooden fence. safe and free and i was able to be seen in my own reality not tainted by the smoky film that used to collect the corners of my mouth into a scowl. light peeking from the window sill. and i could breathe, breathe, breathe. i really could. the endless days, the ***** pijamas, smells of soap, granola bars, patience, inheriting the personalities of the people on tv.


2023
i know you hate me but i love you too.
i love you. i know you don’t realize it most of the time, but i truly do. happybirthday.

7/25/23
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