G M Oliver

G M Oliver Jul 2015

Tighter

When did you learn to sting?
When did you
decide your resentment
held you tighter
at night
than when I did?

When?

G M Oliver Nov 2014

I built a home for you beneath my chest plate,

A creaky little house, but sturdy nonetheless,

With the strongest walls my shaking hands could build,

With plenty of windows for sunlight and chilly autumn winds,

And smooth, cedar wood floors for dancing barefoot,

Then you brought a storm the walls couldn't bear,

That shattered the windows and split the floors,

In my chest, the little house collapsed and tore through me,

The flood came and now I'm building walls instead of little houses.

Sorry I've been gone for so long

Sep 2014

m

for someone, for anyone.

I want to introduce you to my parents. I want to take black and white polaroids of your hands and hang them on my bedroom walls so when you leave me for a funnier, slimmer, better version of me I can remember a time when those hands brought out the best parts of my worst. I want to kiss you, hard. On the mouth. Soft, on your nose. Violently, passionately, like a hurricane I want to leave marks to remind you I was here. I want to tell you about my day. How many coffees I drank, how many cigarettes I tried to leave unlit, the way I forgot to think about anything else but your laugh. I want to make you eggs in the morning and listen to that ****** indie music we love (If you don’t like eggs I’ll make you stacks of chocolate chip pancakes and you can be reading if you don’t like music in the morning.) I hope we run into each other at a coffee shop, at the library, on the street and shyly smile, knowing this is it.

G M Oliver Apr 2014

Pancakes

And that night, we laid half-drunk
in our friend's mother's bed

I, in my trousers
You, in your shorts

We whispered softly
and I held you close

I gripped your hand
and you cradled my heart

I said "If this is the only thing
that will ever happen between us,
I'll still be happy"

We fell asleep and awoke
three hours later; the next morning

I took you out for pancakes and we sat in silence
and you acted as if nothing ever happened.

G M Oliver Mar 2014

Caught

Pass me the raindrops you've caught on your tongue,

I don't want the placidity of the lakeside water

I don't want the sluggishness of the drifting snowflakes

I don't want the steadyness of the flowing river;

Give me the ones that didn't hit the sidewalk

Give me the ones that the blades of grass didn't drink

Give me the ones that didn't roll off the rooftop,

Pass me the raindrops you've caught on your tongue.

G M Oliver Feb 2014

Spilling (Haiku)

I cut my finger
You came spilling out of me
Until my heart stopped

G M Oliver Jan 2014

Drunk

Let's lay a blanket down on my front yard,

And look up at the constellations while drunk,

We'll hold hands to keep each other steady,

As the world spins madly around us in a blur.