Miss Daytona

Miss Daytona Sep 23

27

Look at you, Blue Oleander
at the margins
of a birthday wish—

at seventeen, you were
the night’s favorite
sparkler,

and at twenty-seven,
the morning’s
favorite petal to kiss.

#turning #27 #birthday #flowers

Miss Daytona Oct 2020

Table For Five

I owe you an explanation
I know you can’t fathom why,
If I’m here and so are you,
I won’t be yours and you won’t be mine

Here’s the thing:
I am but only one of me
Powerless against the hive
I can choose you but will they?
I don’t sit alone, I’m a table for five

#bpd

Miss Daytona Oct 2020

Violin Violence

I heard it from three stories above
Candlelight sparkling dark windows of dawn
A melody, murderous sounds of a dagger
Brutal weeps of ripped strings in mourn
The man haunts in song, in laughter
Hums quietly, in his staff he banters
With a violin he slaughters

#music #violence #strings

Miss Daytona Oct 2020

About You

Whenever I write about you
The words rip the paper and it tears in two
My hands grow tired
and I need to put the pen down

Whenever I ask about you
The blue walls turn gray, windows slam shut
My eyes roll back
And I need to lay myself down

Whenever I talk about you
I am on a stage and the microphone clips
My throat bleeds
And I need to step down

Wherever I go looking for you
The cars try to stop me and the stoplights turn red
My feet hurt
And I need to go back

Miss Daytona Oct 2020

Nabokov

I wrote on your back words of a bygone era,
Back when we were a a collusion in the making
Not souls, not cells, not matter
Yet by then, Nabokov had already met Véra

And to her, he wrote about a strange joy
Ane what he knew right when he met her:
He only ever existed within her eyes,
He was only ever seen through their letters

I’m not sure you hear the same notes,
And I want to be a lover, not a beggar
I want hear the songs of your thoughts
On a loop, growing louder, forever

#nabokov #bygone #love #lover #notes #music

Miss Daytona Oct 2020

Strange Times

We see, we hear, we watch,
we talk back. We write.
This is a strange time to be alive.

And if a reader finds this poem,
Buried or dropped or kept:

You see, you hear, you watch,
you talk back. You write.

And I bet you feel the same way.
What strange time it is, indeed,
To be alive.

#life #poetry #reader #writing #strange

Miss Daytona Sep 2019

The Years Go By

The months I’ve been chasing
have passed.
I am left with a year of clarity,
September’s Spring, the tale of another promising Summer,
I’ll spend chasing the bits I have lost
Among the bits of August
Unkissed, unseen by the sun

And along comes a new year,
To all our great infortunes,
It is never lost, never late
To insistently sweep me off course,
And deliver me to my fate.

Oh, there comes my new lover,
In their ever-changing image.
To break my bruised fall into
Another loveless winter.

#years #love