Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
  Jun 2015 -a
Tom Leveille
ground zero
i become aware of boundaries
i am a dog chasing cars
i sing your voicemail to sleep
there are no surgeon general warnings
to tell me that
the objects in the mirror
are more depressed than they appear
so how do i tell you
that there are parts of my life
that move slower
without you in them?
or that i look for you every day
in emails & unanswered calls
in the sunrises
i didn't choose to be awake to watch
that i sometimes still stare at doorways hoping you would walk through them
   *stage 1
you tell your new lover you've got a splinter and they pull the sound of your body falling asleep on mine out of your fingertip
   stage 2 your new lover says something at dinner that makes you choke so they call 911 & the paramedics do the hymleich not knowing you would ***** our promises all over the the restaurant
   stage 3 your new lover surprises you by cleaning the house & washes the shirt you kept next to the bed, not knowing it was the last thing you had that smelled like me
after
people always ask
what was loving her like?
after a really long silence
i just say
"it must be nice"
but i never say
it's watching paint dry
i never say
it's a window seat in hell
i don't tell anyone
about the dreams
where i am reading you
bedtime stories
each one is a different way you die
& every time i can never save you
dreams where what i think
are angels in my bedroom
are just homeless versions
of myself you never loved
i have dreams
where i pay someone to shoot me
just to see if you would cry
just to see
if you would cradle my body
i don't tell people
that loving you is like
playing piano
for someone who can't hear
that it's hitting repeat
on my favorite song
& forgetting the words
every time it starts over
that it's finding out
there's no milk after you already
poured yourself a bowl of cereal
it's getting locked in the dark
& being told to
look on the bright side
that loving you is like
being reminded of what it felt like
the first time
you accidentally let go
of a balloon as a child
it's drowning without the water
it's the feeling you get
when you start to dance
& the song ends
  Jan 2015 -a
WistfulHope
I want someone to look me in the eyes
like nothing else matters

I want to wake up to him
or a text from him or something more
than the empty feeling in my chest

I want someone to share random thoughts with

I want him to pull me into
his jacket and zip us up inside

I want to talk to someone
about theories, ethics, words,
the universe and more

I want someone to call me at one in the morning
and tell me to look at Polaris

I want him to pick me up unexpectedly
and make me laugh hysterically until I snort

I want someone to trade literature with,
sleep in with, cuddle with

I want someone to miss me when we're apart
Even if it was all fake, I still miss the little things.
- - -
He was always the perfect lie...
  Jan 2015 -a
Katie
is there a reason why I can't imagine my life ten years from now?
people know what they're passionate about
I used to know what I was passionate about
until real life hit me like a truck
and shattered my dreams into fragments on the concrete of my self-doubt
why am I so afraid of my future yet so unsatisfied with my present?
  Dec 2014 -a
Who cares anyway
At the end of the day
On December 25th
I like to sit in the dark
And stare at the tree

I'm supposed to be happy
Spending time with family
But all I can think about
Are your hands around my waist
  Dec 2014 -a
rained-on parade
Hear it in your parents' words;
in their sugar-coated testimony of disappointment
and let it
writhe around your neck,
until the ground neath you
slips.

(For your own sake,
don't struggle.)
The first realization of my seventeenth year of life.
Next page