You. - Hello Poetry

Mar 2015

Tide Islands

I awaken
to sunlight
filtering through
the blinds
and pouring into
the empty
coffee cup
on the nightstand.
I am warm,
but not from
a lover.
The empty space
in my bed
and in my chest
serves as
a reminder
that the warmth
is from the
radiator.
I sometimes wonder,
on mornings
like this,
if there is an
alternate
universe
where you are
the one awake,
watching sunlight
filtering through
the blinds
and filling the
empty coffee cup
on the nightstand,
but not the
empty space
in your bed
or in your chest.

01.03.15
© J.E. DuPont

Jan 2015

Tide Islands

tide islands

We are islands, you and I,
two lonely islands at low tide.

we are separate, yet, in this sea together
through rain, or shine, or any weather

I see you across the ocean blue,
and I want to give my love to you.

i know your shores i'll never reach
but the waves carry my love towards your beach

You smile in the way that islands do,
and the winds bring your love back to me, too.

we've learned to be happy sitting here
but the tides are changing fast, i fear

I can't love you forever, only a moment in time,
because soon we will drown, come high tide.

forever is a long time anyway
and i'm glad to have known you, if only for a day

Please, don't be afraid when we sink;
there's less meaning in eternity than in a blink.

know that i love you as we drown
i promise it's alright that we won't be around

It's okay, because, one day, everyone's gone.
The ocean waves will continue on...

i send my love to you once more
and the water rises above our shores

We were islands, you and me,
two lonely islands drowned in the sea.*

© c.v. & J.E. DuPont

In case you were ever wondering why my name is Tide Islands on here,
this is it.
This is one of the only collaboration poems I have ever done in my life.
It's special to me because it was written by my fiance and I when we were teenagers.
(I am italics, he's regular font.)
Today is the anniversary of his death:
January 19th.
I apologize for his grammar (it was kind of his style), and the fact that this poem isn't really all that good since we wrote it when we were young, but I can't really change it now that he's gone.
I wish I had a date on this one, but unfortunately, I don't.
I never wrote the date when I was younger, which I really regret not doing.
But yeah.

#love

Jan 2015

Tide Islands

Eternity

My sorrow has nourished these lands,
where I've sown
the tears of your remains.
It will continue until
the last gasp of air escapes my lungs
in a tomorrow far away.
The dense fog of despair will clear after the winds
carry me to you.
Then, sunlight shall pour through the clouds
and fill the fields
with a splendor that won't be observed
by people who are too busy
living with their minds closed off
and eyelids crusted shut.
In death, they shall join us as limbo roses, wild daisies,
Queen Anne's Lace, living on
in forgotten memories, vibrations, and colors only seen
through the cones of bee eyes.
One day, the glaciers will melt, and humans
will become mere fables
whispered about in the ballads of tidal waves
that eat away at the dust
from the haunted world of yesterday.
Not long from then,
the sun will engulf us, and we shall join the constellations
of a far off planet.
Galaxies will collide, and we'll become lost
between the cross stitches
of unnamed dimensions when time no longer ticks.
Eternity won't remember
our names, but it will have breathed them
for just a moment.

07.01.15
© J.E. DuPont

#eternity

Jan 2015

Tide Islands

Somewhere Nice

The night fades like cigarette smoke into the fog,
as dawn is brought upon the horizon by loon calls.
Used needles and condoms sit between the rocks.
The waves push plastic bags and empty bottles.
Ghosts of lost dreams are haunting the shoreline.
You're looking at me, while I'm looking for salvation.
Although you're with me, I'm still dying inside.
I blink, hoping for rain instead of the sunlight.
If this is living, I'm not sure I want to be alive.
But you touch my hand and I look at your face,
and somehow your smile brings me far from here.
The colors in your eyes take me somewhere nice.
I wish I could drown there instead of rotting here.
You blink; I wonder if your hell is anything like mine.
Are you wishing you could drown in my eyes,
seeking salvation, hoping for rain instead of sunlight?
I'll never ask, because I know you won't tell.
We don't speak of these things. We only feel them,
and we feel them alone, because that is how we are.
The waters crash against the rocks; you sigh,
and, now, I'm certain, you're as empty as I am.
That sigh says more than your words ever have.
Your mind is more polluted than the murky waters,
twice as grimy as the spaces between the rocks.
The ghosts of your lost dreams are waltzing with mine.
I'll stay here alone, wandering the haunted shoreline
if it means you'll drown somewhere nice in my eyes
instead of rotting in this awful place with me.

I decided I'm going to post old poetry on the days I can get out of bed. Today was better than yesterday, but tomorrow could be five times as bad as today. I won't know. I'm trying.

17.10.06
© J.E. DuPont

#pain

Jan 2015

Tide Islands

Getting Through January

It’s that month again where everything’s frozen.
The earth, the air—it’s like time is broken.
I tell myself I just have to make it through one more January.
Then maybe I’ll be okay in the arms of February.
March will soon pass, carrying with it the Spring.
Perhaps the tears of April shall return my wings.
May will twist its roots through the damp earth.
Then June shall arrive and Summer will give birth
to the heat of July and a sky, cloudless blue.
I’ll be thinking of August, the month I first kissed you,
and remembering those years we spent together.
So long, yet so short, but somehow felt like forever.
Again it will be September, the month of your accident.
It was that same Fall, we found out I was pregnant.
Through October, I’ll build nothing but dread.
By the time November comes, I’ll be halfway dead.
December is preparation not for a beginning, but an end.
The cold Winters of January will return once again.
That was the month I lost you and our baby.
Time hasn’t healed me; every day feels like January.
But I promised myself I would make it through.
I must conquer each January. I must continue;

I am much unwell every January. I may not post for a while.
For sure, something will be posted on the 19th.

01.01.15
(It's weird writing the year...***)
© J.E. DuPont

#january

Dec 2014

Tide Islands

Understatement

To say I thought about you
was an understatement.
My lungs ached with the
sound of your name
pouring out with my breath.
It sounded so lovely paired
with an ampersand and mine.
My heart fell into rhythm
with each syllable that tumbled
from between your lips.
It pounded so longingly
within the walls of my chest.
My nose savored the scent
of you that wafted into
my nostrils when we passed.
You smelled like pine needles,
cigarettes, and the cold.
My eyes locked onto you
and your vibrant red hair as
you walked alone in a crowd.
You always stood out no matter
how many people were there.
My hands would write each
whispered word I had of you
dwelling deep within my mind.
I never had so many words
until the day I met you.
I still think about you, and
that is still an understatement.

I'm posting old stuff, because new stuff that I write is in need of heavy editing. If I posted new stuff, you'd all think I was drunk. (Which I am, slightly...) I'll shut up now.
23.12.13
© J.E. DuPont

#love

Dec 2014

Tide Islands

Cold

I’ve always been close with the snow,
since your funeral that one January.
I hadn’t really thought about why,
until I went to visit that place where
we scattered your ashes into the winds
of that blizzard in the dead of winter.
Your mother had said that the snowstorm
was the best time to let you go,
since you had always wanted to fly away.
I didn’t realize at the time I released
a fistful of your remains,
just how familiar the icy flakes felt against me.
The thing about the snow,
is that if you stand in it long enough,
you become so numb that it hurts.
You can’t feel your senses, only the winter’s cold.
And that’s as close as I’ve ever come to
explaining what it’s like being without you.

15.12.13
© J.E. DuPont

#loss

Dec 2014

Tide Islands

Isolation

The empty space in my bed
constantly reminds me that I’m alone.
The walls around this house
no longer feel quite like a home.
I’m blocking out the memories
of you within my head.
I’m staring at the ceiling instead
of books I should have read.
There’s a hole inside my heart and
self-destruction in my brain.
These voices in my mind are
slowly driving me insane.
I can’t remember when
I smiled the last time.
I’m drowning all my sorrows
in *****, gin, and wine.
I’m calling out for help, but
not a soul can hear my voice.
I’m tired of people telling me
that happiness is a choice.
I’m waiting for something to happen
just so they know how I feel.
I’m so **** isolated that
this loneliness seems unreal.

This piece was meant to show the hideous face of a severe mental disorder. If I have to correct one more person, asking them to remove a comment about this saying this is "tragically beautiful," I'm going to rip my ******* hair out. I wrote this during a very dark time, I worked through it, and I thought it would be a good piece to illustrate the hell I put up with. Stop romanticizing mental disorders!
If you think this is beautiful, you've missed the purpose of this piece,
and personally, I have a problem with you.
Stop.
23.12.13
© J.E. DuPont

#depression #isolation

Dec 2014

Tide Islands

Pretend

The glow from your cigarette
emits just enough light
to cast a shadow and illuminate your eyes.
I'm legally blind, but not blind enough
to miss the tears you attempt to hide
as you inhale.
You don't think I can see,
so you smile and attempt to control
the tremor in your voice.
I pretend not to notice,

But I know that your
father made you
cry again.

You realize that I noticed,
and yet, you don't say a thing.
We both pretend I didn't see,
even though we're both bad at pretending.
The silence envelops us,
and we refuse to say anything.
We've always used unspoken excuses
as a barrier between us,
because we aren't brave enough,
because your problems are your problems,
and mine are mine.

But I know that your
father made you
cry again.

There isn't a good enough reason why.
We don't have to have one,
and we don't look for one either.
That's just the way it's always been,
and I don't expect it to change.
Even though it probably should,
we'll continue to pretend.
So I ask for a cigarette, and it
casts a shadow and illuminates my eyes,
that aren't really that blind,

Because I know that your
father made you
cry again.

And that won't change, no matter what we pretend.

This one was written sometime in 2006.
(c) J.E. DuPont

#pretend

Dec 2014

Tide Islands

Wrecked

Whenever someone
offers me a ride,
I always refuse, and
they are confused as to why.
They don’t hear the
screaming inside my head
or see blood-soaked
sheets on a hospital bed.
They never saw your
black and blue skin
or know that it’s killing me
somewhere deep within.
They don’t understand why
a wreck’s called a wreck.
After it happens,
you can never forget…
Sure, chances are
it won’t happen again.
But I can’t stop thinking it will,
so I won’t get in.
Besides, I don’t mind walking
home in the snow or rain,
No one can see that I’m crying;
it disguises all of this pain.

#death

Dec 2014

Tide Islands

Untitled

When I awoke
from nightmares
at three or four A.M.,
I’d reach out
my hand
and trace your jawline.
Soft enough
so that
I wouldn’t wake you.

Now,
when I awaken
from the night terrors,
there is nothing,
no one
there to trace.
Except my shadow
on the wall,
the lines
in the mattress
beneath the sheets,
the cold pillow in the
empty spot where you
used to sleep.

And then
I start to wish
that I could
go back
to the nightmare,
because
at least
you’re in them
sometimes…

#death #loneliness #nightmares

Dec 2014

Tide Islands

Withdrawal

After I quit the medication,
I couldn’t stop smelling
smoke,
And I’d feel electric shocks
coursing through my
brain.
The doctor said it was withdrawal,
but I think you’re still
burning
Somewhere inside of me. And the
rain in my head that’s been
trying
To put you out for so long
has turned into a
storm.

#depression #withdrawal

— The End —