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boo
dove Dec 2017
boo
too many times
have i taken the time
to individually place
dominos
to have someone else
knock them down
before i’ve even finished.

and too many times
have i taken the time
to try to build myself up
for someone to break me down
before i’ve even finished.

they’re scared
of what i could make of myself,
but what they don’t know
is that falling down
and getting back up
just made me stronger.
i have gotten used
to the change in altitudes,
but you still need
an oxygen mask.
(steal the air from my lungs
as i steal the light in your eyes)

be scared.
dove Jan 2018
just like how
in an airplane
you put your own
oxygen mask on
before
trying to help
anyone else,
you need to go
save yourself
then come back
for me.
dove Feb 2018
you know what happens to them. or maybe you don’t. maybe you’re still caught in the flood. that’s okay. it’s better to drown than to burn. don’t you think? don’t you think? don’t you think?

it comes to me in two distinct shapes. (distinct. are they distinct? to me, yes, but i suppose to you they are just as shapeless as i am to you.)

him. my beautiful idiot. though his hair and eyes are dark as night, i know there are sparks that lie there, dormant. waiting to be ignited. but he makes me smile, makes me laugh so hard my stomach begins to hurt. i haven’t felt a good hurt in such a long time. the lips of his ghost leave an afterimage on my neck. he likes to watch the color rise to my cheeks, likes to watch me squirm. he thinks i’m worth something.

her. my ethereal starry girl trapped in a rotting sack of flesh. she wants out. she wants out. i know she will supernova anytime. it will be just as beautiful and terrible as she is, but i don’t want her to go. she keeps me from floating away, even if i am so unbearably heavy as a result. she protects me, loves me. she always tells me so. i can still feel her hands on mine. they’re warm. she thinks i’m worth everything.

but it doesn’t matter which form it takes. it always ends the same. they kiss me (hold me protect me embrace me touch me touch me touch me touch) and they burn. they always burn. it’s because of me, i know it’s because of me. this can’t be my skin then, it can’t be. it must be gasoline or gunpowder or nitroglycerin or god i don’t know but don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t touch
who am i supposed to choose?
dove Jan 2018
darling,
when we’re holding hands
and yours start to shake
it’s like my personal
earthquake
you’re a disaster
hiding in that bag of flesh

but you know that i’m not any better
dove Dec 2017
i’ve picked many roses before
but you were different;
you had thorns
but chose not to use them.
dove Dec 2017
over the years
i have created several playlists

i have a playlist for
long drives,
closed eyes,
lucid lives,
and highway signs.

i have a playlist for
breaking old bottles made of glass,
the smell of smoke,
telling people to kiss my ***,
and drowning myself in memories until i choke.

i have a playlist for
rainy days,
realizing home is not a place,
hoping i will stay,
but leaving without a trace.

but the playlist i've been listening to nonstop
has to be the one i made for you.
a list of songs of my favorite songs from said playlists:
and - EDEN
fragile - gnash
atlas: two - sleeping at last
blue velvet - bobby vinton
secret for the mad - dodie
anxiety - blackbear
cheer up! - a great big world
love/trust (interlude) - quadeca
crash - EDEN
90's kids - shamir
humongous - declan mckenna
ugh! - the 1975
we were friends - in love with a ghost
dove Jan 2018
her lips
are saturn’s rings.
her eyes
are black holes;
her vantablack pupils pull me in.
her touch
is colder than neptune’s surface
but somehow always warms me inside.
it seeps through my intergalactic highway of veins
and takes the nearest exit
to my heart.
her tears
are the ice found on mars.
(she freezes and hides them
so that others cannot tell
how she’s slowly breaking inside.
how she’s slowly dying out.
how she’s slowly losing orbit.
but i can tell
and it kills me
because i am only a human on earth,
and she is the entire galaxy;
she has too many people to worry about
so she would never notice me
and how much i worry about her.)
her mind
is the part of the universe
that remains unobserved.
she is the cosmos, the planets, the stars;
she is everything.
(no amount of atronomy classes
can teach me so much about the cosmos
as spending time with her can.)
dove Jan 2018
it used
to feel so bad
but now
it is home;
this odd familiarity
makes me feel somehow safe

(this is false security)
dove Jan 2018
i.
"your majesty"
you would say to me
but i did not want
that title of queen
i wanted to be a knight
i did not need nor want others
to fight in my name
i can fight for myself
i can draw blood
i can
and i have
ever since you left

ii.
“i could help you
if you would just let me”
you would remark.
yes you can give me
all the band aids you have
but if you do not
have the guts
to watch me
endure the pain
of stitches
then do not bother
for i do not feel faint
in sight of blood
(i have seen my own
many times before;
personal battles
often have the most gore)
i can stitch myself
i can heal my scars
i can
and i have
ever since you left

iii.
“you are a flood
for which i drown
everyday in!”
you would yell
but i am no flood.
i am simply an ocean,
i have my dark places
which no one
has yet to explore.
i am vast and full of life.
and when you call me
“a flood”
you are denying
every beauty
i have within myself.
it is not my fault
that you don’t know
how to swim.
i can swim.
i can be more than
just your perspective.
i can
and i have
ever since you left.
i'm getting better
dove Jan 2018
i have taken
a great fall;
that is,
for you.
dove May 2018
i’m standing in the middle of a museum. which one? not important. i’ve lost vision; everything is blurred and i feel like i’ve just been told i’m legally blind. i can’t decipher what is art and what isn’t. is this chair something i can sit on, or an antique sculpture? are the people walking around me real or some elaborate movie being projected with myself as the only real one there? how can i even be sure that i’m real? of course you are real. i tell myself you would never be considered art.

and then it hits me. her. when i looked at her, it’s like i had 20/20 all over again. she was so clear but somehow remained dream-like in such a natural way. she was more than art. she is more.

god how i’ve felt myself being ripped apart like pages out of a sketchbook everyday since i’ve met her (it’s not your fault; i’m the one who ends up burning them anyways).
dove Feb 2018
i don’t know why
things go
so wrong
with people
who seemed
so right
dove Dec 2017
{you have 4 missed calls and 1 voicemail from unknown}
{press 1 to play}

hello, i'm sorry to bother you.
i know that you don't know me,
nor do i know you.
but this number belonged to
a friend of mine
that committed suicide
a year or two ago.
she was a really lovely person.
however, she was also
the type of person
that gets a new book
and reads the last page first.
who googles the ending
to the movie before starting it.
which is fine in most cases
because the person usually comes back.
but she stayed.
and i would usually call this number
and it would go to voicemail
and i could hear her voice again.
but this time i heard yours.
and now i don't know what to do.
dove Jan 2018
these dreams
seem so real
they are so vivid
i will pinch myself
and feel the pain
so how have i figured out
that this is not real life?
well,
in the corner of
my eye
i saw you.
and the illusion broke.
the story was confirmed
as fiction.
because i know
that only in my dreams
you would come back.
(reality is the deepest nightmare)

getting out of bed was particularly difficult today.
dove Jan 2018
i have learned that
it’s okay to leave oneself.
to separate mind from body.
only if you come back
with newfound purpose.
dove Dec 2017
my life
has been like
holding sand.

i am so
preoccupied
with looking
at the surface
of the pile
that
i dont realize
just how much
is falling through
the gaps.
well that is until it’s too late.
dove Jan 2018
“i love you, but you make me feel cold on the inside. my bones start to ache; no, not in desire. they’re trying to warn me”

“- being alone like that must have been awful
          - you say that as if i’m not still alone”

“don’t you understand that you won’t be happy until you love me? this is for you. all of this has been for you”

“i don’t have enough time”

“i thought it would be easier, you know? after all of.. this. i just thought it couldn’t get any harder, but like usual, i was wrong”

“the idea of us together makes me gag”

“what happened to you? you used to be so warm. now you’re ice. i’ve tried to thaw you out, but it’s hopeless. no one can help you anymore”

“this darkness is the only thing i can truly rely on these days”

“do you know how many times i cried over you?”
all of these sentences were either said to me or i said myself.
dove Dec 2017
you called me yours
but did it ever
occur to you
that i might have
wanted
just to be mine
i cannot share the universe within myself
dove Jan 2018
aisle upon aisle
looking just for a few groceries
then it hits me
graham crackers
your favorite.
i grab a box,
leave all of my other items
in my cart,
and check out.
i drove to the lake
and fed every last *******
to those annoying birds
you always hated.
dove Jan 2018
i started smoking
because it is the
closest thing i
have to you.
how you used
to always carry
cigarettes with you.
the smell of smoke
followed you
(traced you, held you,
touched you, loved you,
loved you, loved)
wherever you went.
i grew to like it
even though
i consciously knew
that it was wilting
away at you.
the consistency
pleased me
(i was never
one to like change)
and when you left
you took the
smoke with you
and it was the
first time
i was truly burnt.
i told myself
that i would do
anything
to have that smell back
to be reminded
of all the good
memories
instead of the bad ones.
so i started to smoke
and now i can’t stop.

once again
you have plagued me.
dove Jan 2018
being in love
with someone
who doesn’t
love me back
is like being
buried alive.
the dirt is
slowly seeping
into my lungs.
i’m suffocating,
yet i do not resist.
i close my eyes
and let it take me.
dove Oct 2018
i imagine you rotting. rotting and melting. flesh becomes matter as it falls to the floor. we wear our hearts on our sleeves and the floor wears our skins and muscle. that’s how it always goes, right?

why are you looking at me like that? you know that we’re the same (we’re the sane).

getting back on track, you’re falling apart as i watch (you made sure i did; i couldn’t ever take my eyes off you). you’re completely exposed now, bones and all. you say to me “its like i’m looking in a mirror”. at least, you said with your eyes. your lips are on the floor, sinking into the stained carpet (believe me when i say this because if they were still attached i would have kissed you right then and there).

suddenly, there are tears in my eyes. you try to wipe them away, but they don’t stop. you pick up some of your muscle to try to soak them up, and i tell you that’s not the kind of tissue i need. you laugh, but nothing comes out (your lungs have already decomposed. it seems you’ve already forgotten).

and then i look away. my tears dry, and, as i look back, you’ve reformed. good as new. not for long though, as soon as a minute goes by you start this cycle again. you’re rotting. i look away, you’re back. rot, return, rot, reform,

don’t you ever get tired? (i do.)
i guess you could say i’m “back” but was i ever really gone?
dove Dec 2017
the universe tends to not care. it is only the things that are in the universe that have that capability. i think it's because caring is hard and it takes a lot of work and if the thing you care about leaves or dies or worse, it hurts (god does it hurt. a side effect of caring is disappointment). and the universe knows this. the universe has felt the pain and doesn't care for it much (even if the universe deserves it). so she decided to become dark, cold, uncaring. she liked to call it “liberosis” (an ache to let things go). and i would like to believe that at a certain point the universe wasn’t like this, but i’ve read science books before. the only time the universe ever changes is when something unfortunate happens (the universe is forced to feel something; she can’t escape from it). two planets collide, a meteor kills off an entire species, black holes that take everything from the universe and give nothing in return (they are the worst. the universe thought she had a sun. but the sun became an anomaly. one day her sun’s gravity became too large and it changed the sun. and that transition from creator of light and warmth to a taker, a gravity well, vantablack.). so the universe remained dark, cold, uncaring for what it felt like centuries. she became bored with doing the same thing over and over again everyday, so she decided to look around. and that’s when the universe met the world. now, the world was a peculiarity (not in a bad way though. she just stood out from everything else). the other planets were lifeless and blended in with the darkness, but she seemed comfortable with the quietness of it all. the universe used to feel the same; she loved the silence (well, that was true until she heard the world speak. and god did that change everything). it seemed as if the two entities were polar opposites. the universe was empty, the world was full of love (and sometimes hate, but it’s better than nothing). the universe felt so bland. wherever you look in the universe, it’s all the same. black emptiness filling most of the void with a few stars and planets sprinkled here and there (but what you have to realize is that just because beautiful things, like stars, are inside the universe doesn’t mean a thing to the universe itself. you are not just what you see of yourself, you are what others perceive you to be. and that’s a very scary thing. there’s this phrase called “catoptric tristesse” that represents “the sadness that you’ll never really know what other people think of you, whether good, bad or if at all” ). on the other hand, the world contained the most prepossessing flowers the universe had ever seen (the universe soon realized how much she related to the flowers. they are stuck, rooted to the ground. until someone decides to pick them and take them home to plant them in a nice *** and water them everyday and take care of them. but sometimes the person doesn’t take them home. sometimes the person picks them and gives them false hope. then the person throws them away and leaves them to wilt. the universe felt comforted by the idea that she was not the only one this had happened to). the world had clouds that the universe enjoyed because it made her realize that it’s okay to block the sun every once in awhile to let it rain (the sun can be quite overwhelming, especially when you don’t have the energy to appreciate it). the world also had this moon that orbits her, showing the universe that sometimes change can be beautiful. and there are so many other things that make the world so breathtaking that the universe notices everyday but to list them all would be impossible. plus, it’s not like the world notices these things herself (there was this one quote about butterflies and how their wings are so beautiful but they can’t see them. they can’t appreciate their own beauty). then there was this weird shift between the two entities. i think the universe fell in love. she doesn’t remember falling for the world, but she just noticed when she held the world’s hand she would become saddened by the idea that at some point she would have to let go. she noticed how frequently she would bring her up in conversation as if the world was always on her mind. she noticed the amount of attention she gave the world to small things (her movements and words were too elegant to ignore). and the icing on the cake was the fact that the universe started to care again. the universe cared about the world. and now the universe is scared. she hasn’t cared in a long time (she hasn’t really been happy either). like i wrote before, a side effect of caring is disappointment. but the universe would take that risk for the world.
i wrote this one a while back; it isn't really a poem, but i thought i'd share.
dove Dec 2017
why do we
connect the stars
if those specks of light
are millions
of light years away?

but i guess i shouldn’t be the one to talk.

since i always try
to connect myself
to you
even when i know
that we are
too far apart.

it’s like building a road
from california
to hawaii.
it is
(or will be)
possible,
but why bother?
because i know
that you would never
put in the energy
to drive several days
to come and see me.

but i bet
you’d drive for months on end
to see her.

but what i have to realize
is that even though
i am not apart of
a constellation
(well, certainly not your constellation)
that i am still a star

and i will shine.
dove Dec 2017
this morning
(or should i say mourning?)
i woke up as a ghost.
as i opened my eyes
i could feel my former body
decomposing.
as i tried to sit it up,
i wondered
"what's the point?"
the heaviness in the air
is adding more weight
to my shoulders
(i now understand why bridges have weight limits)
i walked over to the mirror
and couldn't see my reflection
not that i would like
what i saw anyways.
i tried to leave the room,
but i remember
those cliche ghost movies.
the ghost can't leave the house
it is haunting
for whatever reason.
so i went back into bed,
only moving to check
notifications on my phone
just to be disappointed
when i see that
it was not a friend
checking up on me
was actually just an email
about grocery coupons.
i think i prefer
being a ghost
because my tears
are also invisible.
dove Dec 2017
there is a reason
why oblivion
and oblivious
sound so
alike
dove Jan 2018
my heart does not stop
you do not take my breath away
i do not feel powerless
i am not pained
because that is not how love should feel

when i see you
my heart beats twice as fast
to make sure that i’m alive
so i can see your beautiful face tomorrow
my lungs fill like balloons
(grab my hand
we can float away together)
you make me feel so powerful
i feel safe
this is love
dove Dec 2017
it is an
ugly world

so write
something
beautiful.
if you have ever considered being a writer or a poet

— The End —