Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Amanda Small Feb 2012
Smoking out of your roommates' hookah,
we blow smoke rings into the center of the room as our heads press into the backs of couches.

Drinking out of plastic cups and writing "**** LYFE" on our knuckles
we dabble in the witchcraft of half-truths.
I feel beautiful in this moment.

Wearing combat boots, torn tights and a cardigan
I stomp through your living room not giving two *****.
I flirt with the table,
the chairs
and even your brother.

Tonight is about me.

I had woken up this morning with a ****** piercing and curls stuck to my neck,
my fists balled up in soft blankets.

Doubting everything,
I tried running through my thoughts with my eyes shut,
only picking up fragments of sentences and bad music.

A full moon
and a monroe
the only tangible proof that last night even happened.

I have grown accustomed to holding my own hand in public,
taking up the place that I had reserved for you.

With our lunch date canceled, I'm free to go dancing with poets and *** heads.
Twist my fingers into the hem of the skirts that tickle my knee caps,
I laugh as loud as my lungs will allow.

If you looked at the back of my throat you might see the words I am saving for a much anticipated stranger.
A beautiful doe-eyed stranger who drinks me in like his favorite liquor.

*"You can never have too much of a good thing, babe."
Amanda Small Dec 2011
A modern day Henry VIII
You royally ******* me over.
We get ****** up and my head starts spinning

You giggle out an apology...
                                                      ­                                                                  *******.

I k-k-k-keep re-reading the line above your eyebrow
Stupid, stupid boy.
I gag on the taste of your breathing,
Your face so close our eyelashes interlock.

Strumming your fingers on my rib cage,
you crack my chest wide open.

****, ribs, and heartbeats.
You embed yourself between my lungs
Pressing palms into my spinal chord.

You fill me until I threaten to fall apart, only to gingerly remove yourself.

                                                      ­                         *I think I'm growing up
Amanda Small Jul 2012
I wade into tidal waves,
my hands full of dandelions

humbled by the sun
choked up over comets
I’ve given up on sunsets

you are a supernova clad only in my bed sheets
I make a wish every time your chest falls

****** lungs full of anxiety
My mouth tastes like an ashtray
filled with the buts of things i forgot to say
washed down by things i wish i hadn't

Still tripping over shoe laces,
I search for poetry in *** holes.
Forgiveness in pillowcases
my eyes have trouble resting these days

So, why aren't we dancing?

Following the rhythm of our mismatched heartbeats
I clumsily waltz through misleading conversations
Amanda Small Jan 2012
bet you i'll be bitter.
bet you i'll be better,
maybe even sit down and write you a letter.

sing all the symphonies of my dreams.

and wouldn’t it be beautiful,
if we could be lovely?

if we could morph these disillusioned thoughts
into proper actions.
Amanda Small Dec 2011
Her sobs punch me eardrums.

Green eyes rimmed with red,
she presses her forehead firmly into her knee caps.
I stare at her hands and imagine them in his.

“I can’t breathe underwater like I used to…”

Passed out on the floor
she gasps for air.
I bet she dreams of water falls and razorblades.

He flattened her optimism with his realism.
Confused by body parts and heartbeats,
they made disappointment a language.

Illiterate lovers

*“I can’t breathe underwater like I used to, before I met you...”
Italicized lines are lyrics from the song "Doo Right" by: Man Man
Amanda Small Jul 2012
Afraid to lie in the beds I've made,
I seek comfort in your sheets

Your morning sighs,
my springtime breeze
Amanda Small Nov 2011
Our bodies connect like lincoln logs
Lips, palms, and legs fitting into the notches I carved for you

Never able to form words fast enough, I sip on cider and dream of flying

If I were able to, I would only inhale
Taking in all the things the world has to offer

You are Peter Pan
You keep my feet from staying planted on the ground
And when I want nothing more than to sleep, you take me swimming with mermaids

We sit cautiously on the ledge of euphoria
As if one wrong step and our hearts will drop to the pit of our stomach
Being digested by our fear of heart break and rejection

I paint your face on my palm
With your eyes heavy lidded and your mouth slightly open
You are the epitome of down trodden
Bob Dylan is your Jesus
Jack Kerouac your Salvation

You drum my heartbeat on the windowsill, as we contemplate the color yellow
You brush your thumb across my ankle, drape your arm over my insecurities
You carry love in your finger print, trust in your eyelashes

As dawn approaches, I find myself wrapped in the arms of a lost boy.
Amanda Small Dec 2011
the week of finals
my body forgets how to sleep
Amanda Small Jan 2012
I was a false prophet in an unknown land.

Things used to be better,
With my hand in your hand
I fell asleep on the typewriter and wrote this poem while I dreamed

Sprites dancing across my eyelids,
We made a game of nervous glances.

Touching fingertips like bits of flint,
We ignited fire in our voice boxes.

Screaming the sonnets of dead poets, we pronounced our love like rotting words.

Cracked, marble lovers.

Tumbling together
breaking piece by piece

We drank gasoline and swallowed three lit matches

You started a scene when you kissed my dream

With your eyes glowing silver* and your eyelashes curved skyward
you talk of UFOs and astronauts

Complex and ever-changing,
I search your lips every night, looking for a sunset.

You catch stars in the corners of your smile, you are my favorite constellation.
Italicized parts were written by Jacob (
Normal font is me.

It was fun, Jacob.
Amanda Small Jan 2014
as if our bodies were the key to the others' salvation.

we are not temples.

we are shrines
to those that lace love songs
into suicide notes.

we'll die singing

always a night time lover
i have grown accustomed to unwashed sheets
and trusting what i can't see

but we ****** when the sun came up
(thank you)
and you kissed me with the lights on
(thank you)

and I could see you...
Amanda Small Dec 2011
With Buddha tattooed on my neck,
I feel like I might finally have a vague understanding of serenity.

Submerge my worries in drunken logic and suddenly I am floating.
Unable to keep my feet on the ground,
I make a habit of leaving cupboards open.

With my drunken intentions,
I lay my head in your lap.
You twirl my curls in your fingers trying to wrap yourself within me.

You are a rotting romantic.

My mother once told me to “Love softly, for love is fragile.”
It was then I realized that my mother had never been in love.

Love is a backstabbing ***** with no morals.

Love is merciful.

Love is red.

Love is rage.

Love is quiet.

Love is not fragile.

is my hand in yours at the end of the night.
When we’re too ****** up to function on the verge of passing out,
and you give my fingers one final squeeze.

I fight the sleep that is inevitable.

I watch as you dream with your mouth shut tight.
I imagine words of affection fighting to break free,
begging to make love to my ears.
Amanda Small Feb 2014
today I said your name for the first time
in two months.

it's not as heavy as i remember
Amanda Small Sep 2012
My fingers smell of cigarettes
stale regrets
and summer nights
Amanda Small Dec 2011
Never a fan of holding hands
I keep my fingers sewn into pockets.
As leaves turn to snow,
my toes find themselves wrapped in wool

Ever the silent observer,
I watch your lips lock with the lip of a coffee mug
I hang a dream catcher from my ear
hoping to catch all of your nightmares,
so that they may stay forever silent.

I keep your heart in my sketchbook
My fingers press into temples,
You let out a breathe you didn't know you were holding.
On my tongue, your name.

You speak in hieroglyphs,
the dead language of pharaohs.
Your love shaped like owls

****, how I want to fly.
Let my eyes skim over the pages of novels
As you store jokes in your dimples.


I never want it to snow.
Amanda Small Dec 2011
I want you to be
as ****** up as me
Amanda Small Jan 2014
His hands
burn away at my momentary doubt

my skin becomes softer beneath his lips.

his lips taste like a postage stamp for an unwritten letter

with slowly drifting fingers, he writes to me:
he asks about my day with his palm on my rib cage and his sighs in my ear.
he kisses the center of my chest, and tells me a story about friends I've never met
he suckles my ****** when he talks about his alcoholic father.

and he writes goodbye with his hips between my thighs.

he provides no return address.
he simply signs his name.
Amanda Small Apr 2013
a brown-eyed susan deflowered in the unmade bed of a bleary eyed boy
she ***** her fists into ocean blue sheets,
she feels as if her roots are about to give
with clumsy hands, he caresses her spine
                                 ­                                                                 ­                          he calls her beautiful.

she is awoken by a gentle beam of sunlight that sneaks through his curtains
and kisses her eyelids
her delicate petals litter the floor

she tip-toes around them

and sees herself out.
Amanda Small Jan 2012
basement sitting
"angel headed hipsters".
i keep my heart on my sleeve.
my tongue on your lips.
you and your multiple personalities
me and my numerous dreams.
keep me close.
i have a tendency to let my mind wander.
tears embrace eyelashes.
i want to burn these memories
set fire to the wind
take my breathe away.
fill my lungs with the hope that this time you mean it.
hold me in your arms tonight.
hold me in your arms.
hold me.
i'm slightly drunk.
Amanda Small Feb 2014
your beard scraped my lips like sandpaper

your hands felt like lukewarm water
Amanda Small Feb 2014
i peed in the attic because the stairs creaked
and your roommates were asleep

your hair licked your earlobes
and your mouth was rough
Amanda Small Feb 2014
a body.
a boy.
a bottle
a bed.
a loss.

a boy.
a bottle.
the bed.
my body

a loss.
Amanda Small Jan 2012
A caged bird that sings to the wind like only a lover can.

I do back bends on roller coasters,
I want to be fearless.

I want heartbreak to be named after me,
so when you fall and shatter (yet again)
you are forced to say my name.

Regret coats my throat

A cough syrup that interrupts confessions

Unable to keep my eyes downcast
I gaze at the galaxies of the streetlights with my back to the pavement.

I trace trapezoids into my blue jeans
mouth confessions to the moon.

Press fingertips to taste buds
I can taste what I feel:
and pens

oh, and regret.

yeah, mostly that.
Amanda Small Feb 2014
"Why can't you just ******* tell me what you're thinking?"*

daffodils, painted glass, frost bite,*                                           you.
split ends, comforters, paint fumes, phone calls, spring time,         you.
knee highs, cigarettes, car rides, missed texts, hang overs, slip knots,   you.
school books, friendship, roof tops, chipped teeth, hang nails, snow shoes,   you.
pinky promise, treasure maps, lipstick, hopscotch, pudding pie, porch swings,     you.
Amanda Small Feb 2014
you made room for yourself at the back of my throat
(the place I had reserved for unfinished sentences)
Amanda Small Jan 2014
Your hands
felt like the pages of a well-read library book
torn at the edges by someone who didn't appreciate the story you told

using all the big words I knew,
I tried to fill in your missing paragraphs

but you were never that hard to read.

tracing my fingers along your spine
I find her name
breaking up your sentences like a misplaced comma.

You will never love me.
Amanda Small Dec 2011
My virginity
a security blanket,
I keep at the foot of my bed.

It doesn’t shield me from loneliness,
It’s purely for show.

I imagine limbs tangled in that blanket.
Our breathes mingling to create dream clouds.

Legs combining like tree roots.
A tentative hand and trembling lips,
The tangible reality of my nerves.

Sooth me with my favorite line from Jane Austen,
Darling I just might love you.

Hips grind against hips

We’re two halves of a love poem.
You, the undying love
Me, the inevitable disappointment.
Amanda Small Feb 2012
I would rather sit back and watch Scrubs than go out tonight.

throw my hair in a bun, put on my glasses and read to my lover.

press my cold toes into bare shins
I want to interlock fingers.
sit back-to-back and guess which knee he has cradled to his chest.

I want life to be simply complicated.

forget how many seconds make up an ounce.
I want hours to be measured in irrational numbers.

making shadow puppets on our naked chests,
we make breathing look like an art form.

knotted ribs and hip bones


that's all we really are.
Amanda Small Jan 2012
Winter moves by slowly.
I wrap myself in your stanzas.
Amanda Small Dec 2011
I'm not asking much,
Just don't make me cry again.
Amanda Small Jan 2014
I think I met you when I was seven,
but I can't be sure
it may have been a dream.

I ask my friends about you,
but they all have their own nicknames for you.
                       and Mother
the three I hear most often.

for me, none of these names fit you.
they hang from your body, concealing what you truly are.

forgiveness and rage
                                        empathy and judgement
                                                     ­                                tenderness and hostility

my grandfather talks to you every night with his eyes clenched and fingers clasped

he tells me that you have saved him from his nightmares,
washed the blood from his hands.
he wants to introduce us,

he thinks that you can save me.

I want to thank you for cleansing my grandfather's hands.
for teaching him that a single bad act
(or a collection of many)
does not make you a bad person.
that Life is a game of unknown rules
and unwilling players.

and I don't know if it's my "rebellious nature"
(as my mother calls it)
but for me,
the unknown is a comfort blanket.

walking through life heel-to-toe
I take the time to lose myself.

I lose myself in books,
                                     shopping malls,
                                                              an­d other people.

I believe in little moments of Fate
and Love's cruel intentions.
the Power of silence
and the weight of Words.

but these days, I tend to lose myself within the four walls of my bedroom.
I lose myself.
I actually lose myself.

So, if you ever want to get a cup of coffee,
my number is at the bottom.

I would love to hear what you have to say.
Amanda Small Oct 2012
nights fall heavy lidded
October leaves rustle beneath my skin.
Amanda Small Jul 2012
a semi's  taillights lead us home
we litter cigarette butts along the highway,
our interpretation of breadcrumbs.

i hope that one day
(when our skin begins to slide from our bodies)
we are able to remember these nights.
Amanda Small Dec 2016
i hear your car pull into the driveway
and I rush to close my eyes.

i pull the covers to my shoulders
and pretend that i am sleeping

this has become my ritual

i can hear your key turn in the lock and my heart presses against my ribcage.
i have been waiting for this

you quietly enter our bedroom
the smell of snow follows you in.

(just for a moment.)
the rustle of layers being shed

i feel the bed shift as you climb in next to me

you reach for me
lightly touching my side

in this dark room
i am beaming


it's all you say,
but in it i can hear the high note of every love song.

with a smile firmly in place
i slowly open my eyes

only to find myself alone

in a room miles away
This is the first poem I've shared in years, so any critique is more than welcome.
Amanda Small Jan 2014
I am a girl of textures,
and hymns.

compulsively forgetful,
i inscribe my teeth with one night love poems.

i try to remember their names

i carve a notch in my hip bone for each of them
an indent where their hands might rest for a moment
and possibly leave their fingerprint...
Amanda Small Oct 2012
I want to believe in a higher power,
but I feel such a connection to the Earth.
grass caresses my shoulder blades
pollen coats my finger tips

I keep my fumbled words in a pocket book with old receipts,
frayed on the edges
and yellowed with age
they stick around hoping that one day I can do them justice.

Love letters coat the walls of my lungs
I cough them up with bits of phlegm
and spit them on the sidewalk

I press too ******* pencils
break my fingers at the knuckles
but these fumbled words demand to be written

So I grind my teeth
and paint my taste buds
with half forgotten memories.
Amanda Small Oct 2012
and on nights like tonight,
you settle for the warm fingertips of sunken ship lovers
and anchored down hopes.

labored heaving
uneven breathing

stars hang from our lashes
our eyes clouded over with moon dust

sunken hips.
lovers' lips.
heartbeats on bed sheets

i never wanted to sleep alone
Amanda Small Dec 2011
******* on my teeth and clicking my heels
I drink Smirnoff out of a coffee mug
The one with “I love my Grandma” stamped across the front
It’s Tuesday night
and I want nothing more
than to feel all right
College is ****
My classmates, conservative ****** bags with too much to say
So **** the weekend, let’s party now
Get hammered and show up to class still buzzing
Let’s call up our ex’s and show them how dysfunctional we truly are
Get naked and finger paint
Maybe even watch Fight Club
Hell, I don’t care
I’m just trying to make sense
So what if the Earth revolves around the Sun
I just want the world to revolve around us
A very rough draft. Any feedback would be much appreciated.
Amanda Small Feb 2012
and maybe you don't want me here.
and maybe I don't want you to want me here
and maybe I want you to want me so much that your heart hiccups

and maybe I drink to summon the courage to say it
and maybe I drink to find it

and maybe I loved you
and maybe I still do

and maybe I don't want you to see me broken
and maybe I want you to feel the shattered glass of my fingertips

and maybe we're doomed
and maybe we're destined

and maybe last night was different
and maybe we'll never change

and maybe we love like cancer

and maybe we walk like Egyptians

and maybe we just need time
and maybe we've had enough for tonight

and maybe we make bonfires on bunk beds

and maybe you turned your back to me
and maybe I left

and maybe you love the hawk with brown tipped wings

and maybe common sense isn't so common

and maybe we're newcomers
and maybe we never got there

and maybe those weren't tears, but stray raindrops

and maybe all my words are lyrical
and maybe my pen is tapping out my heartbeat

and maybe I watch you watch me

and maybe we jive like honey bees
and maybe I dream of daffodils and popcorn

and maybe we've lost faith in God and gravity and poetry

and maybe I ride my bike down the narrow streets downtown
and maybe I sunbathe on park benches
and maybe I fell from my tree house

and maybe I flew
and maybe our hands don't fit quite right
and maybe I tried to recreate snowflakes

and maybe I dance to the songs you hate
and maybe you know every word from my favorite poem

and maybe I cry when I think too much
and maybe I smile at every hair on your body

and maybe I loved you
then again, maybe not.
Amanda Small Dec 2011
Tonight, let’s take God hostage
throw Him in the backseat
have Him show us around town

We're "those kids"
spending our afternoons learning how to do handstands on nail beds
The ones that foresee failure and live in the moment
Sit on street corners and barter for advice

Let's treat this world as an etch-a-sketch
For we are nothing more than flecks of aluminum looking for a physical reaction

More like soul mates than friends
If you fused us all together you might have one functioning addition to society

Making wishes at 11:11

Looking for beauty in air,
We breathe out to give inspiration to sonnets

Dreaming of switchblades and palm trees, we sit next to the fire
Our feet shoved in embers, burning off the memories of passing Decembers

We pass a flask of whiskey and daydreams
Keeping our mouths sealed tight around the top
Amanda Small Dec 2011
Close your eyes and take a ride with me,
Lie flat on the back of a charging horse.

Get naked and weave yourself into the tall grass.

Take a walk around the block with only your daydreams for company.

Interlocking fingers with Mother Earth, let your mouth hang open.
Breathe in the night sky,

Fall in love with the winds of spring.

Touch knees with an old friend,
Palms with a stranger.

Blow on embers,
Gasp in flames.
Set fire to your thoughts and revel in the ashes;
Keep your mind in a constant conversion.

Move to the rhythm of earthquakes.
Let your Earth shake and take it all in stride.

With your arms limp
sway in the moon light
accept the things you don't know
and forget the things you wish you didn't

Be born of the earth again
Covered in dirt and pine needles
Find your long lost love of simplicity.
Amanda Small Dec 2011
Simply put
I would love if you loved me back
Amanda Small Jan 2014
I have spent the last two years kissing away conversations.
Amanda Small Sep 2012
your backbone a keyboard
memorized by lamplight,
i play 'Little Fuge' between your shoulder blades

we drink moonshine to make the stars burn
dress with our backs turned

never an early morning riser
i've settled for the love of comets and cold bed sheets
Amanda Small Dec 2011
Rain bounces off my window,
sounding like the drumming of hundreds of fingers.

I have a problem accepting higher powers,
a doubt of all things that don’t resemble Peter Pan

I keep my mind in a perpetual daydream.

Pressing palms to my throat
My words give heat to my fingertips so that I might remember to write them down this time.

The city streets – the lined paper of my day
I wander all over town
Keeping my finger print in my eye socket
I put my special touch on the world

Punching in the numbers,
I discovered the lifespan of a fleeting thought
in less than a second.

My heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird
I tap on my forehead and try to stay coherent
                       ­                                                                 ­                           Maybe I should drink tonight...
Amanda Small Nov 2012
short-handed love letters
written in the daydreams of a deliberate narcoleptic.

i send you the paper plane promises of summer
(sealed tightly in sweaty palmed envelopes)

you're not one to read poetry
yet i always manage to find feather light stanzas draped across your shoulders
held down by nothing more
than freckled thumbtacks

years fall away
like too heavy eyelashes onto cheeks

waiting to be brushed away
by the callused fingers of patient lovers

our slow and natural tendencies
our lips mimic the rate of gravity

you use a box cutter


in my palm

but borrowed time
and fickle fate
will never heal heartbreak
Amanda Small Dec 2011
To the girl with curls much longer than my own,

When approached by a boy, flip him off and spit in his face
Tell him you're a rebel,
a punk,
a lover.

Tell him that love is for suckers and
guys are only good for *******.
And even then it's a hit or miss.

Explain to him how you have violent urges to break things
Go into detail about why your parents didn't stay together
Get drunk and make out with his best friend

Respond to his texts with one syllable
Talk about how you're ready for commitment
(in the long term sense)

Insult his music,
his books,
his friends
and most importantly his morals.
If he doesn't fall in love with you, there must be something wrong...

After all, it worked on me
Amanda Small Jul 2012
Curls brush my shoulder blades
reminding me of your fingertips

so I cut them down

to one word texts
and a dozen missed calls
Amanda Small Sep 2012
breathe your worries over my finger tips,
i'll write them down for you

scribbled in the shorthand of daydream believers
we never needed a dictionary to comprehend the word hope

in the dusk of summer,
i store my doubts on the soles of my shoes
to see if i can wear them down to childlike acceptance.
Amanda Small Jul 2012
on nights when i feel unwanted
i grab my pack
and wander

in my ugliest underwear
i dance on shaking knees
a fawn eyed star gazer
blowing smoke to the clouds

enamored by the particles of my eyelashes,
i blink with appreciation of the little things

i lose myself on one way side streets
in order to get from here to there
but i always seem to be a little too late

another moment missed.
Amanda Small Dec 2011
This incessant buzzing makes writing poetry nearly impossible.
Every time I exhale my dreams get stuck in my throat.
Writer’s block.

Holed up in my room watching films about Allen Ginsberg,
I howl out curses that make my toes curl.
I think this is where I admit that I am on a downwards spiral...

We have ourselves stuck in a Chinese finger trap.
If I could swallow my pride and just take a step in your direction,
We might be able to free ourselves.

I feel like shouting, singing and whistling just to drown out doubt

Down the rabbit hole

Pump my stomach let my words flow freely.
I need a release.
I need a fix.

Hands shut in the pages of novels
Feet stomping on pavement, sending vibrations through my bones.

My fingertips are numb but the words keep coming.
Forgiveness is something I will never master.
Next page