he sees the ocean in my eyes
ringed with sunshine (he provides)
he looks at me so steady
holds my gaze until I laugh and look away
brushes the hair from my cheek
"you are gods perfect creation"
and I feel something in me
he is the closest I will ever get
if religion felt like this,
I would kneel with the best of them.
I eat overripe fruit
bags of chips
bowls of cereal
and drink hot
cups of coffee
hundreds of water bottles
leave everything strewn about
my clothes lay mixed
clean and *****
covered in dog hair
I can't bear to organize.
every item shifted
reveals an image of you,
some remnant from a time
i hope the beast we share
(our only remaining connection)
keeps you up at night,
pulls our old photographs
and the letters i wrote you
from the drawer where they rest
and make you remember.
i wonder if you kept the poster,
the collage of our memories;
i bet you burned it
(just to see my face warp
like you claim my heart did).
i know you act like you don't care,
like you're better off,
like i was a bad friend to you,
like i was never anything but
exactly what you asked of me
(i tell myself the same things,
except when i say it,
it's the truth).
i need this beast to stalk you too.
i can't be the only one to shoulder the weight
of our heavy silence
(why does it still hurt?).
sometimes i trace my own hip bones
in the dark,
and run my fingertips over the curvature of my spine,
pretending the warmth belongs to someone else.
i speak my own name in my mind,
imagining it's syllables spoken tenderly
by a lover's tongue,
each letter dripping with sugar.
my fingertips itch for closeness,
and curl around imaginary fingers,
like wishful muscle memory.
i have so much love to give.
i have so much love to receive.
i have so much love to give.
i'm brimming with it.
it moves in me like water,
leaks out like the tide of the sea.
when the moon gets too close,
the love in me rises
against my boundaries,
pushes itself up my throat.
my biggest obstacle is swallowing
it back down,
when the moon
gentle fingers press forget-me-not seeds
between her teeth,
warm lips breathe "i love you"s into
she clenches her teeth,
holds her breath,
grins only in black and white.
at the hint of spring,
blue petals climb the cracks
between white boulders,
with the heat of summer,
she crunches ice,
tries to excavate the reminders
from her gums,
comes home with ***** fingers
and the taste of blood
on her tongue.
I know I must be hard to love.
my body is all sharps angles, stretched tall
and draped with gold.
when you need me,
I'm hard as steel, twice as cold.
when you forget me, I'm soft as water, drowning
my mother jokes, "don't ever get married."
I laugh, tell her I won't.
I try not to think about it.
I don't know what I want.
lately the tears have been coming easier and i don't know if it's from loss or from gain but i do know that i feel everything.
souls became real to me when mine wept into my favorite jacket at the sound of my best friend's voice breaking over the phone, and when it pressed up through my skin and forgot my body so that it could comfort every damaged mind it could sense.
my heart hurts for me but it hurts more for you, and him, and her, and them, because they will never understand what it means to care this **** much.
when the wind howls and rattles your shutters tonight, listen for my name.
it knows me better than anyone.
it's 6:12 in the evening
and i have just arrived home
after a long day of listening
in a sea of oppression brought
upon me not by my choice
but by my mere birth
while those around me argue
that i can't be drowning
because they don't know what
water looks like
the problem with attachment is that
it has to end.
and the stronger the connection,
the harder the end hits.
it's these thoughts that plague me
when i wonder who i was
what parts of me are really me
and which parts of me
are actually you?
will i ever be able to distinguish between the two?
i hope when that song comes on
your lips curl up before they curl down
i hope when the first note registers your remember happy moments
the long runs in autumn
the conversations held at 1 am
the days spent just lazing in each other's company
the unforgettable concerts
and i hope that when the second note registers,
your stomach drops and your heart soars up in your throat
i hope a lump like a coal forms in your throat
and salt water rivers course down your face
i hope i ruin all of your favorite songs
i hope it burns you when i leave
all i know is that
when you're gone
i need you the most.
i guess i took you for granted.
even right when you left,
i was okay.
i was able to laugh and smile freely,
until the adrenaline ran dry
and i was still
it was the thought
"you will never be by my side for
longer than several days
that lit me on fire.
i cried until i was hoarse
and even now my throat physically aches.
i didn't know missing you would hurt so bad.
i didn't know growing up would break my heart.
when the train comes,
i want to feel it.
i'll press my feet into the ground
and absorb the quaking as it approaches,
my fingertips kissing the rail.
when the message comes,
i want to hear it.
i wont turn away.
i'll turn up the volume and sit in silence.'
when the pain comes,
i want it to wreck me.
i want it to give me back to myself.
i'll let it consume me,
then i'll spit it out
and laugh in it's face.
i'm ready when the pain comes.
we wished as children to hold some sort of power:
to be remarkable, special, vital.
we created worlds in which we reigned supreme,
we could have anything, do anything, be anything.
we got lost in the homes we made in our heads;
the supernatural world followed us into our sleep.
we cast our ties to reality into the void
and became our dreams, our lies.
we believed in our new-found independence;
i lost faith in god.
we found found ourselves:
we were gods.
please don't change the subject
when tell you something
i wouldn't tell anyone else
i feel so alone
i can't find my meaning
i'm not really going anywhere
i'm so **** exhausted but i sleep just fine
you just tell me
"huh, that *****,"
"it could be worse. everyone feels like that,"
that doesn't make it any easier
i want to scream
you tell me to trust you
and get mad when i say i can't
but you make it so **** hard
when i can tell you don't care.
sometimes i still feel like i wont ever
be good enough
to be loved
and i'm so scared.
i have become an expert in the art of deep breathing
to offset anxiety.
my heart still races like a runaway train
but i’ve learned to reconstruct the brakes
just in time to spare us the crash.
i’ve discovered that my bones are made of stone
and my skin is a thick hide
that your words can no longer puncture.
i watch as your sharp insults reflect off of me
and find their way back to you
where they embed themselves
and speed along your decay.
I think of you often
i hardly remember you, so i suppose i’m not really thinking of you
maybe it’s more like i’m thinking of the idea of you
you’re a foggy landscape in the back of my consciousness
your name is a taste that comes only in the fleeting space between dreams
my mind has lost the ability to pronounce its syllables
looking back on “us” is sort of like looking at something right under your nose with the wrong end of a telescope
the image is distorted and far too magnified to see
any semblance of a bigger picture
to this day i still wonder what exactly it could have been
what we could have been
had we changed our views
don't touch me
i am drenched to the bone with
and one touch is all it will take
for us both to go up in flames.
don't touch me
i am a forest fire
a white hot rod
i will burn your finger prints right off
how will they identify you
when i'm through?
and i deserve better.
i'm exhausted and i just want to cry and run away and mksldjbkvhalk
i want to be able
to pour my heart and soul
into things that matter
i want to get over my
and allow beautiful things
i don't want to be perfect.
the ******* ocean.
i swallow land masses whole
and rise and fall with the moon.
i glitter with the light
of a thousand suns
and teem with the lives'
of billions of fascinating creatures.
i am gray
i am aquamarine
i am neither alive
i am a force
to be reckoned with.
there are no pretty words
or metaphors strong enough
to do justice
the utter destruction of a friendship
which i have just experienced.
i feel alone in this misery.
we're all standing on the edge of reality,
millimeters from the precarious cliff of horrible,
the glow of our iPhones, tablets, flat screen TVs, etc
illuminating our placid faces.
ignorance is bliss, they say.
and turn off your alarm,
and flip on the news;
start your coffee brewer.
we depend on the technology.
we live in the the technology.
we live in a computer.
you are not real
and neither am i
but we aren't dead either.
if we can think,
we can exist,
basing this off an existential crisis discussion
where are the warm people?
i find myself baring my soul
to cold people
who take the heat of my burden
and use it to insulate themselves.
they shed no heat
where are the warm people?
who will share their flame
as i try to share mine
when my has flickered out
and lies smoldering?
i am the glassy sheet of ice
that folds in upon itself suddenly with the slightest touch
and the leaf that was shed in autumn
to be uncovered, a skeleton
all dry veins and paper thin
i wake up sometimes in the middle of the night
and your name is
crawling up my throat
i swallow it like a pill
and i can still taste it
in the back of my mouth.
vulnerability is something i have always struggled with.
to give another person the ability to read my mind, to pity me;
it's something i tend to regret.
so when i opened up to you,
and you blew me off as though what
i said was meaningless,
like you'd heard it all before,
i hated you.
i had handed you the ability to sew shut my insecurities,
but you brushed me aside with such force that the gaping hole just
opened wider and i
have no one
so i am forced to turn in on myself
and with fumbling, numb fingers,
i sew myself shut
from the inside.
i want to write about the way my lover makes me feel
and the way we fit together like the teeth of the zipper on my favorite jacket
but i am loveless
and it's for the best
because i was never
patient or forgiving
i want to escape my own head
and run as far as i can,
with the intent of reaching a destination
neither past nor future
and not quite present.
somewhere that is in-between,
in a time that is uncharted, unpredictable;
not labeled by human standards of time.
i want to discover.
i want to rid myself of every emotion
that i have ever experienced
every stupid, limiting category,
and just feel with reckless abandon.
i want to feel colors;
vibrant, daffodil yellows
and muted, aqua blues;
foreboding, stormy grays,
light, springtime greens.
i want every sense to be satisfied.
i want to feel alive.
winter is settling in my bones
and with every inhale my lungs take in freezing air
until my head throbs and my thoughts slow to a dull ache.
the flowers on the sill are still in bloom
despite the coolness of the glass beside them
and i wish i could ignore the chill and open up
but winter is unkind
to my fragile heart
i could fill endless pages with descriptions of places
and feelings that overwhelm me
but the idea of a continuing plot
always escapes me
i need to stitch together
these nagging, slippery thoughts
and form a coherent train of thought
with a purpose and a sense of direction
so that i know where to place my focus
and how to spend my energy
so that i can move forward
and stop looking over my shoulder
thinking of you
thinking of you
t h i n k i n g o f y o u
when i need to be thinking of
and how the two
are polar opposites
this is not a poem about love;
this is a poem about understanding.
this is a poem about how it feels to look in the mirror
and not hate myself - at all.
this is not a poem about overnight changes;
this is a poem about glacial speed.
this is a poem about how monoliths of ice carve rivers
into solid earth
over the course of a millennium.
this is not a poem about you.
this is a poem about not needing you.
this is a poem about not need you to tell me
to know that i'm enough.
**** people who write confidence off as cockiness. it is okay to be confident. in fact, it's great. love (or at least accept) yourself.
i dreamt of the most beautiful sunrise
i have ever seen
and that is how i know
i'm okay now
what do you do when you want something to happen so badly
that it makes your lungs heavy and your heart flutter?
what if you know it will never happen?*
take your time.
come to terms with the fact that it isn't realistic to hope for something that won't happen.
understand that it isn't the end of the world;
the earth will spin on and orbit the sun even if your heart is breaking,
even if it has gone off like a hand grenade inside you and the shrapnel has punctured your lungs.
be your own hero.
lay yourself down and with steady,
extract the jagged pieces from your damaged body and lay them in the sun.
let them sit until they have absorbed all the heat you can stand,
then cup the pieces in your hands.
close your eyes.
savor the feeling that comes from knowing that you can heal your own heart without help.
you'll need to remember how it's done -
this won't be the last time.
when you're ready, swallow your mended heart whole,
so that it rests in your stomach instead of your chest.
this way it won't be so easy to find next time.
now you need to learn to breathe easy again.
your lungs are healing.
they'll be stronger than ever now;
breathing underwater for so long makes it easier to breathe when you're standing,
on the shore.
you are the sun,
pulsing with heat and energy,
radiating heat and life into the dark.
i held darkness inside me
before i met you.
it clung with icy fingers to my bones
like the roots of a **** in a crack
on the sidewalk.
you brushed me once,
with your gentle touch,
and the dark was stripped away,
i was ignited.
i still haven't stopped burning
i used to believe you cared
i can feel a pressure building up in my chest that weighs down my lungs with the burden of words that are just barely tangible. i can feel their weight, light as a feather and just as easily carried away by the wind. they bubble up sometimes, float up through my throat, and begin to press on my tongue. they taste of copper and perfume, and i don't know how to let them go, but they make me want to hold my breath. they obstruct my airway and suddenly i'm lightheaded and without words and i don't understand how i can have so much emotion so little energy so little time so little release.
the words flit back and forth between my fingertips and tongue and i can't control where they end up but i'm convinced that most of them evaporate
like steam on the asphalt in august
because i never find them once they're gone.
"when will this change?
oh, i don't wanna wait."*
a mantra in my head,
this song plays in loops
in my mind.
despite the beauty of the trees
and the perfect weather
i find myself becoming distant
my mind returns to me with
the coming of spring.
ironic, though, that
is my least favorite season; while
is my favorite.
the beginning quote comes from the song "keep myself alive" by Get Scared, which is currently my favorite song...it seems that my taste in music is also seasonal.
the only kind of
i care about
i cannot read about
in my chemistry textbook.
true spontaneity is found
in night time leaf fights
that result in tear-stained cheeks
that ache from laughter,
and impossibly tangled,
please hold this
where nobody can see it
and hold it gently
or I fear it may break.
I am not equipped
with the lucky ability
to think before
keep it safe,
and return it to me
when it has learned
when my brain has learned
to scream "NO!"
rather than whisper
ever since i was a child
i have carelessly thrown my heart
at any boy
who held my gaze
for more than five seconds.
i am exhausted
why haven't i learned?
love doesn't work that way.
will i fall for undeserving boys
who could not care less.
but i'm lonely
so please hurry
and please care.
i want to be needed
i need to be wanted
i am drowning
another blank face
unrecognized and vacant
passing in the hall
in the empty eyes
bleeding out sleep
keeping me awake
through invisible sores
the teachers eyes
indifferent and glazed
too tired to care
why are we so tired
cut me through and through
i should be thankful for school but the system is flawed and school makes me literally sick to my stomach
the changing leaves
spark a fire in me
that doesn't reach
my finger tips
i want to step outside
of my body
and see myself
as i am.
i want to be able
to cradle myself in my own arms
when everyone else turns their back.
i want to see myself
when i am happiest,
without the ideals of society
clouding my vision.
i want to reflect the good i see
in those i love
and let it shine out of myself
to brighten the darker nights.
i want to
if you are the sun,
i am the moon.
you are spring afternoons
wrapped in sunshine and birdsong.
i am crisp autumn evenings
cinnamon scented and starlit.
you are a swimming pool
on the hottest day of the year
that appears cool at first glance
but smothers with its heat.
i am crinkled red, orange, and brown;
drifting with the breeze.
i am melting ice with tiny air bubbles trapped inside
releasing frigid air in tiny bursts.
they say "'team' is a four letter word
and i can't help
because every time i turn to look
at these lovely people
every time i laugh till my stomach aches
at ridiculous jokes
i know that they
are a part of me
that i never want to give up.
this is way too mushy for my liking but seriously, my xc team is basically just a group of my favorite people. love them.
held at a distance
from almost everyone
i drift along
staying close, sometimes,
to others - only to fall behind
invisibly, unnoticed, as they
most easily forgotten
and painfully awkward
the least likely
to keep a conversation going
the easiest to forget
if i surround myself
of hiking through
with winding streams
and trailing ivy;
of running my fingers
along the gnarled
aged bark of tall,
will i breathe as easily
as though i was standing
take your blade
and carefully carve
the envy out of my bones.
steal the ugly weight
of doubt and greed
from my tired heart
and burn it
so that i may
i am torn