Annie: Favorites

Jun 2013 Annie

blankpoems

the harsh reality of life is that everything moves on
and for things to move on, first other things have to end

people leave;
they leave you and they leave places and they leave things behind
and sometimes it's messy, and you'll cry and hug your pillow at night
because it's the only thing that has stayed
and people may leave places, and maybe you'll be a person leaving a place
but you'll be finding a new one

everyone finds their way, and an end is just a new beginning
because that is the true meaning of moving on

and maybe you'll look around your new house in a new city or even state or country
and you'll find something; a letter maybe, from a person who left
or a bracelet, or a picture- anything that holds a memory
and you'll remember them, and it won't be because they left
it will be because they moved on, and luckily they left you with a piece of them
because we are all made up of fragments of other people and places and things
and no matter how hard we try to piece them all together quickly and with shaking hands,
we can't

and sometimes the puzzles that are our souls will be messy,
and you'll cry and you'll hug a new person
that hasn't left yet because you're missing pieces you think you'll never find

but one day you'll complete the puzzle
and it won't be the end
it will be moving on

Jun 2013 Annie

My Mama Said

Jun 2013 Annie

blankpoems

My Mama Said

I like to write my name on a piece of paper over and over again
until it's messy enough that I forget who I am

Erasing the edges, smudging it out until my identity is nothing but a fast blur;
something that could only be noticed if you were looking for it-
something you would probably be disturbed to find anyways

Like when you're driving and you see an animal on the side of the road
and you have to pull over because it's your third week of being a vegetarian
and you almost have to force yourself to cry about it, but not quite

Or when you're cleaning your room and you find that old wooden box
you put your earrings in when you were seven years old
and now you're almost triple the age you were at that time
and you find those earrings, but there's only one of each so you put on mismatched ones
and cry yourself to sleep because you're missing parts of you that you thought would
always be there

"Mama said there'll be days like this,
there'll be days like this, my mama said"

On the messy days I like to forget who I am and pretend I'm still who I used to be.

Jun 2013 Annie

A Broken Thing

Jun 2013 Annie

blankpoems

A Broken Thing

A battered heart never beats in tune
A broken vase is never perfectly glued

You break a beer bottle on the ground because
you're mad that the girl won't sleep with you
and you sweep the glass under the rug...
but that doesn't mean it never happened

One day you'll be older and you'll be smarter
and you'll have less of an ego and be more of a martyr
and you'll learn that no means no
and broken means don't try to fix

If you take a leap and love a broken thing
love it for being broken
because the shattered just has more pieces to offer
more pieces to cherish
and more pieces to look at and say hey
"You're not perfect, but you're lovely anyway"

Jun 2013 Annie

Him

Jun 2013 Annie

blankpoems

Him

It’s funny how a memory works
I was thinking today about how I usually don’t remember exact days
For example, Christmas
I remember getting excited and I remember waking up
and looking under the tree for the outline of that typewriter
I begged my parents for
but I can’t remember what day of the week it was,
not even from this year
I think to the night we spent together though;
and I know that it was a Saturday
I was supposed to be at my friend’s house
but she cancelled on me
I would learn later that fate works in mysterious ways
even though I was mad at her at first
You texted me and asked me to get coffee
It was four in the morning
We talked until eight about nothing
but we also talked about everything
I guess it was Sunday since it was the morning
I guess I could say I spent the whole weekend with you
but I know that it was only four hours;
still the most prominent four hours of my seventeen years
I remember being in the coffee shop,
and the song “Edge of Seventeen” came on
I thought it was a weird coincidence because
I was on the edge of seventeen and you were on the edge of twenty
and we were both on the edge of falling in love
We talked about dreams, and I told you that I don’t like to sleep
because I have nightmares and I forget what reality is when I wake up
You stared into my eyes and I felt a tug in my chest
Your eyes whispered to mine that they understood
I don’t think we were even speaking in English
we were speaking in smiles and nervous twitchy body language
I told you that I found you intimidating
you laughed and told me you were sorry
I told you not to apologize, I just thought you were so cool
“you’re cool too” you said with a smile
I just laughed and looked at my coffee mug
I get nervous with compliments
We went out for a cigarette and I had trouble lighting mine
because I was so enticed by the way the smoke floated
so effortlessly out of your mouth
I remember thinking that if I was the smoke in your lungs
I wouldn’t fight to come out, I’d stay warm beside your heart
I told you that I needed to get home
before my parents noticed I was gone
You walked me home and the whole time I was praying to a God
that I don’t believe in that you would kiss me goodnight
But you didn’t
We didn’t talk again after that night and
I know now not to fall in love with the
twenty year old little boy
who still wants to grow up and be a poet
and who stares at you while he sings

Jun 2013 Annie

If I should find a time machine

Jun 2013 Annie

blankpoems

If I should find a time machine

If I should find a time machine I will travel back in time to when you were six years old.
I will look into your scared, not yet masked in makeup doe eyes and I will tell you that everything will be okay.
I will let you know that even though you don’t feel six years old, you are.
And next year you will be seven, and then eight.
And no, maybe when you’re 16 you will not feel 16, but you will feel 22.
And when you’re 17, you’ll age four years because of broken hearts and the evil of the world.
And I will tell you that even though in a few years time, when you are nine, and you think you know everything that this world has to offer, you won’t.
And that will be okay.
Sometimes it is okay not to know everything. Even though you want the answers, I swear to god sometimes it is okay to not know.
And even though your world is falling apart right now, and home feels like a battlefield, and you are the grenade set to explode, you aren’t.
And even though your parents are on opposing fields and armies
And even though you are no man’s land, stuck in the middle of a firing squad
And even though you have lost the ability to cry because at six years old you feel numb
And even though you lost the one pair of arms you felt safe in
And even though you want to save your brother from the childhood you are currently living in,
you have to stop worrying.
You are six years old, and soon you’ll be seven.
And you won’t feel seven.
You’ll feel seventeen.
And I’ll feel twenty six.
Because I have lived my life for seventeen years and I know that you are scared because I am scared too.
It will get worse before it gets better, I promise you that much.
But you will spend your entire life trying to find the perfect balance between happy and sad, the good and evil and your mom and dad.
And when you are seventeen, you’ll feel twenty six.
And you might understand.
If I should find a time machine I will travel back in time to when I was six years old.

Jun 2013 Annie

Nothing About This Is Poetic

Jun 2013 Annie

blankpoems

Nothing About This Is Poetic

One day I will look in the mirror and find a stranger

There are studs of silver all over my room from when I was younger
and all I wanted to do was shove unknown metals through my skin
and call it rebellion.

There are black nailpolish bottles, and scissors for cutting my own hair
and face paint for when I wanted nothing else but to look like Bowie
I am not a normal teenage girl, and I think I guess I'm an adult now.

I kissed boys on the mouth when I was wishing they'd kiss my soul
I tried to drown myself in the bathtub until I figured out that I couldn't breathe-
and that I wanted to.

There is nothing poetic about the way that I want so badly on Saturday nights
to cut into my own skin with whatever sharp object I can find
There is nothing poetic about how I haven't left the house in three months except
to go buy hair dye so I don't have to recognize myself anymore.

I don't find poetry in the stars anymore because they remind me too much of you.

I looked in the mirror today and found a stranger
and nothing about this is poetic.

Jun 2013 Annie

I Once Knew A Girl

Jun 2013 Annie

blankpoems

I Once Knew A Girl

I once knew a girl who wore flowers in her hair
and hope in her heart
she carried herself with a smile and a straight back
and she never slouched once or told anyone she was sad

she had long brown hair and big brown eyes
and she loved the universe, and everything in it

she once told me that she wanted to grow up and do everything
she didn't say what, she just wanted to do-
she wanted to be
and I didn't know what she meant but now I do
because all I want to do is be, for her

because she didn't get to grow up
and even though she ended her life,
the girl with the flowers in her hair
did not **** herself

words did;
words uttered to hurt
and they hurt, they really hurt
but she doesn't anymore

and even though she's gone,
she's not really gone because I see her everywhere I look
I see her in the people that were good to her
I see her in the leaves that I avoid stepping on,
at my childhood home, where she visited for my birthday parties
when I pass her house
and when I go to our old school

I see her in the good in the world
she taught me lessons I needed to know
and even though she took her own life,
she taught me more about living than dying

I once knew a girl who wore flowers in her hair
and even though she's gone, she's not

rest in peace rachel

Jun 2013 Annie

Silver Bullets

Jun 2013 Annie

blankpoems

Silver Bullets

you had two tattoos,
long brown hair
and brown eyes that had green flecks in the sunlight

you had big dreams
and a scraggly beard
and a love for me that I didn't understand

you had an acoustic guitar
and calloused fingers
and strong shoulders

you had a love for poetry
and a hate for your dad
and a strong nicotine addiction

you had my heart in your hand
and my secrets in your mind
and my fingers intertwined in yours

you had a lot of hopes
but they were never enough
because you took them
and shot them down
with silver bullets
using the same gun
your mother used
to escape

— The End —