Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Feb 2017 Erica DeAngelo
KA
it is simple actually, do not over complicate it.
  I love you.
You love me.


We have spent too much time, too many years making it more than that.


KT June 13, 2014
#love #you #i #you #life #living
I have found out that
Home isn't always a where,
It is a who: you.
a haiku for you: l.c.
I keep my box in the back corner of my closet
Behind the shoes and last year's projects
It is a boring little box, wouldn't want anyone who stumbles upon it to think to peek inside
The cardboard is slowly peeling away from itself
Pieces of tape slashed across the top
But the box keeps things neat and tidy
Sometimes I feel like opening it up, ripping the tape off
And sifting through it all to see if anything has changed,
giving everything inside away to interesting people.
But I have seen you make that mistake before
It usually ends in drama
The kind of pain that ruins your mascara
Destroys the walls people have so carefully built
Blasts through sensibility
I keep them in that drab box for one reason only
Emotions are messy
I'd rather not
 Jan 2017 Erica DeAngelo
N
all your flowered dresses
thrown across the floor;
my bedroom--
our secret garden.
 Dec 2016 Erica DeAngelo
Leilani
These eyes, no longer my own
My heart changed its beat
A snake has a hold of my stomach
My body admits defeat

It's merely following suit
After all, the body trails the mind
Rage overtook that system
When my father decided to resign

You might think a job
I guess you would be right
Twenty-five years of marriage
Forsaken overnight

Now if you are uncertain
This was not foreseen
He was fairly content a man
Although a bit extreme

He had all he wanted
That was insufficient
So he went quietly searching
And one lie became malignant

As I reimagine the events
Not by choice or reason
I can't un-hear my mother
Her sobs weak, uneven

I struggle to relinquish
The semblance I have left
Of the life I knew just days ago
Before this unthinkable theft
Here in the capitol
of lowercase relations
your drink is holding
yard sales for you.

Among headstones is a table, a lock, a plate of cucumbers
and salamanders (which can be pickled), a bowl of raisins --
a handful -- skating the bowl's concavity,

trying to

become round.

If a condition of space travel was one could nevermore return,
how many astronauts do you think
there'd have been?

More stars in lawschool than the cosmos.

Somewhere there's a story
of Indians singing
instead of pointing and laughing
when the Pilgrims came
and the Atlantic dropped off
into the earth's crust behind them. You see

pickles can't become cucumbers again. Everyone who died
drunk driving in World War II knows that.

But still

ovens dream of one day being iceboxes,
and the ice cubes all know this
and it makes them sweat.
 Dec 2016 Erica DeAngelo
Sophie
Now
 Dec 2016 Erica DeAngelo
Sophie
Now
Now; when the chilled wind pinches my cheeks and nips at the tips of my fingers.
Now; when the cool air leaves my hair smelling like an amalgam of pinion wood and frost.
Now; when I first caught a glimpse of how deeply and vastly I really would love you.
Now; when I had so eagerly awaited the warmth of your heart pressed close to mine.
Now; when you are no longer here and my soul is all at sea without you in my life.
Now; and forever I will remember you and love you as extremely and completely as I always have.
thank you, I love you, I'm not yours any longer but I'll always be here for you.
Next page