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Feb 2019 · 340
After V Day
Jay Feb 2019
strewn candy wrappers
a heart-shaped box lies empty
unrequited love
Jay Sep 2018
oh, little ones
if I could build you a worthy city
to keep you safe and dreaming
I would crush the hope I had left
into a powder,
mix it
with all the things we grown couldn't be
and lay the slurry out to set,
harden it with sun and air
not hate
forming a foundation
where futures could be built
but my tools have no power
I dented them in fury and shorted them in tears
before they could be used to build  

oh, little ones
if ever I find safety in this homeless land
I'll wrap you in it
in a heartbeat
realizing you don't have the resources to help every worthy cause can be heartbreaking

6/19 update- It breaks my heart that this is still relevant
Jun 2018 · 39.1k
Stupidest Things
Jay Jun 2018
I'M MAKING nachos in your toaster oven. The chips fall in the pan without a problem. Beans, evenly distributed (if I do say so myself.) Salsa- good to go. Then the cheese. Generic brand shredded cheese blend. I dangle my (washed) fingers into the zip-lock bag, grab a generous pinch and rain mild cheddar down on my gourmet meal. And I feel the tears building. "No," my conscious scolds, "you will not cry over shredded cheese." I add another pinch for flavor, then another to assert dominance. I slide the pan into the tiny oven- triumphant! But the next task breaks me. I freeze when I try to adjust the heat setting. I hear your voice so clearly, like you're still calling from the next room: "you have to press the TOAST button, it cooks much faster."  The tears start to roll. I think about how excited you were when cheese bubbled perfectly- "just a little brown, ever so slightly crispy." We would joke about your persnickety preferences, likely a product of your superior taste. Of course, you would have appreciated anything I made for you, but it was always better when the dish matched the idea in your head...when I made it like you would have made it (if you were only well enough to cook for yourself again.) In the present, I poke the TOAST button and flee the kitchen as to not cry in front of the smothered chips. I sit on the sofa and break down, gasping in childish sobs. "I miss her," I wail to an empty house. Warm tears coat my cheeks in the air-conditioned room. I feel so small. I feel so foolish for crying over stupid, little things. I feel so... so... A bell dings in the kitchen. I wipe my sleeve across my face and traipse back to the toaster. Hand into oven mitt, mitt onto pan, pan onto table. I grab the plastic tubs of sour cream and guacamole from the fridge and a spoon from the drawer that sticks a little when you try to open it. I pick the non-wilted bits off the head of lettuce and rinse them under the faucet. I finish the recipe. I pull out a chair. I sit down to nachos for one.
Grief is such a strange emotion/process.

*Oh my! Thank you all so much for your support! I wrote this back in June when I needed to get it out of my head and had no idea it was chosen as a daily until I just logged back on and thought there was a glitch with my notifications number. I was slightly mortified that a piece of my mourning got exposure but after reading your comments I'm glad that I documented something many of you identified with. I've since journeyed a bit farther in my grief- slowly overcoming my initial instinct of trying to instantaneously analyze every feeling to determine whether I'm "allowed" to have it. I went to a group bereavement meeting offered by the hospital that treated the loved one in this poem and the nurse running the session made a good point- no one can fully understand another person's relationship with an individual who's passed on. Interpersonal relationships are unique and so is grieving. Being gentle with yourself (especially in times of struggle) is woefully underrated. And with that, I send love, gratitude, and positive vibes to this wonderful community
May 2018 · 565
May 10
Jay May 2018
candles lit
songs sung
sweets eaten
                                           by time
                                                            ­       weak flames
                                                          ­             old music
                                                                ­      pale sugar.
                   the first celebration of a hollow year


                            somehow I hope you know
                        we remembered your birthday
                                  here on earth today
May 2018 · 759
Jay May 2018
will the aching stop
my heart, when I speak of you
with words in past tense
Feb 2017 · 388
Jay Feb 2017
where are you
my star-brushed siblings
with weepy hearts and teardrop eyes
who feel the earth with their heels and souls
will I find you walk among those kindred strangers
or will tired feet find you farther gone and not yet home
Jan 2017 · 636
Maybe Not My Drink
Jay Jan 2017
I drink red wine now
by myself
but obviously not in the pathetic, lonely sort of way
or in the I-have-a-problem way,
I promise!
I put it in a glass and everything!
Just in the unwinding way
Sometimes... late at night...
It's nice
Sometimes... it helps me write...
God-awful poems  
you know, in the why-can't-I-forget-you way
I only drink in the evening hours
and the days aren't so bad
every day I fall more in love with myself
honestly, I do.
I do!
It's just a shame that doesn't make me fall out of love with you

And I feel like my poems are never long enough
even when my words are
dancing in my head
and then I get sleepy before they unlock
but that could be the fermented grapes
or the clock
as I continually realize
the knock on the door won't be you

so there's just me
and the wine
and the whining
and resigning  
and the pining
for what was never mine
Nov 2016 · 382
Jay Nov 2016
come on, heart
for the love of everything except him
please stop pining
Nov 2016 · 1.3k
Sadness Becomes the Clown
Jay Nov 2016
Sadness becomes the clown
for humor is a reflex
and denial is breathing
and ease is a smile when one's secretly seething

Sadness becomes the clown
for punchlines are hits
and fools are martyrs
and what are mocked pains but conversation starters

Sadness becomes the clown
for laughter is weighty
and jokes are suppression
and comedic timing is a guise for depression  

Clowns give their all
day after day
while time is a pall of emotional decay
And they know it's inevitable
when the chips are down
that the clown becomes sadness
and sadness becomes the clown
Oct 2016 · 794
Ok, so...
Jay Oct 2016
talkative dolphins, computer mice, and you & me
they're all things that click
your smile and stupid honey hair
they're all things that stick
in my memory like clichés and glue
like how I'm stuck on you

feelings and ridiculous bright eyes
they're all things I'm distracted by
also when we laugh so hard we cry
while I'm trying to pocket the sparks that fly
because they're unsuitable
but apparently immutable
just why...
why why why why WHY
why is it you
why does it have to be you

because the sinking feeling has sunk
that even if I was drunk
I wouldn't be able to tell you
the things I try to drown in fried food and old jazz songs
like how I've felt for so long
always trying to ignore it
as I awkwardly store it
wishing we'd explore that
you're the only one
that causes the stuttering and heart fluttering
and the poem's sputtering as the rhyme scheme cracks
while my feelings attack
and so much of me wants you...
and your stupid honey hair
to love me back.
Crushing HARD. Thought it would go away when the person left the city *but* they came back to visit and it's definitely still there. Also my friends are telling me to "go for it" but I really don't know how.
Sep 2016 · 386
Jay Sep 2016
the mirror image
the pieces of sky that fall
is it all fragile?

music's sound waves and
the skull's electricity
valid? fleeting? both?

the flesh and the soul
looking to the mirror sky
asking who am I?
Apr 2016 · 560
Easy does it
Jay Apr 2016
Cool as a frazzled cucumber
I take my words and clench them in my jaw and my fists
I fight every urge to throw them in your face or
deliver them in a well-timed slide smoothly down the table
because I know they would destroy you
or at least buy your silence
because your talk is so cheap

But I hold them.

I return them to my mind and break them in to pieces.
I remold them as light and hope and love.
Because hate is a weakness, an ugly waste
empty sounds leaving bitter taste
so I could through words in your face
but that won't be the case
because hate is just too easy.
Feb 2016 · 502
Jay Feb 2016
Flowers are flowers
clichés are cliché
don't let social norms make you sad
just enjoy your day
Nov 2015 · 233
Jay Nov 2015
I'm hurting right now
I don't need apologies
I just need more time
Oct 2015 · 302
Jay Oct 2015
I want to put on my old, wool jacket
and walk around the city alone
let the stars be mirrors
the pavement piano keys
the steps gentle
and hear the town breathe
my mind fuzzy and grey as my sleeves
Jay Oct 2015
I wish you made me act foolishly.
That you'd look my way and I'd stammer and sway
I'd turn red as a beet or stare at my feet
Some reaction endearing but indiscreet
just something to give me away.

Yet, leave it to me to be far from obvious.
I don't giggle or gawk, or slip when I talk  
at no floor I stare, I don't twirl my hair
the truth, I fear, I'll never share
for my feelings I tightly lock.  

Frankly, this dichotomy is tortuous.
Inside I'm bubbles full to burst, lovesick poems poorly versed
Yet outside I'm a casual grin, aptly concealing all within
Please, happy heart betray stoic skin
because secret crushes are the worst.

But if I were to open up and the butterflies had their way
I'd look you right in the eyes and these words I'd say:

You're one of my favourite people
and I enjoy your company.
You make my smile genuine
and you let me just be me.

And if I had the courage of 100 men...or women (let's be fair)
I'd move a little closer and these truths I'd lay bare:

I like your mind next to mine.
and our friendship I adore
but I want our hands intertwined
and for us to be something more.

And then at that point, I'd be remiss
if I didn't end with a kiss.

Yet, as of right now, I'm not so bold
so these feelings, well, they go untold.
But someday the truth you'll see
even without me acting foolishly.
Aug 2015 · 400
Jay Aug 2015
I'm no judge
honest to a fault
but for what you're worth
You don't have to try so hard
If you were to ask me
I'd tell the world
that your walls are not
nearly as beautiful as what they hold
that your heart is lovelier
than the censored words you told
I would recommend
in lieu of putting on airs
we've all been there
just take off the mask
and ask
I'll only tell
the truth-
I already like you.
May 2015 · 255
Tiny Fish
Jay May 2015
"Come on, little fish, you have to leave the pond."
"But it's scary out there."
"You'll never learn if you stay in a puddle."
"But I don't know if I'm ready."
"No one ever is."
"But then how-"
"Your journey awaits."
"Though you may be small, you're strong. And you've known all along
that someday you'd have to go- to sea to see and live and grow.
We love you here, but you shouldn't stay, believe in yourself and say-"
Apr 2015 · 1.6k
Little Sailboats
Jay Apr 2015
some days I miss the little sailboats
dotting the horizon
keeping me floating
as they sat on the shore
smiling at the watercolour painting  
watching the clouds blow away
leaving the picture perfect
but they couldn't see the sea so choppy
the wind so strong
the paper-thin sail
the hull breached and leaking
they never saw
I lacked a sailor's heart
I couldn't lift anchors
or keep weathering storms
while taking on water
content to drown
So I turned the ship around
they tied it to the dock
and I swam away
but to this day
I remember
half a small white pill
half an oval blue pill
make a little sailboat
Mar 2015 · 479
Bitter Orange
Jay Mar 2015
here again
when will I learn
when will I learn not to fly too close to the sun
it's so bright
so warm, so, so warm
singeing, suffocating
I finally feel
I can breathe  
with open arms, I'm flying
higher, they cheer me higher
into the sky
it's lonely in the heavens
but it's fine
it's fine when you want to burn
Sep 2014 · 342
Jay Sep 2014
Floating between the dew-covered, deep-green grass
the last firefly of summer winked out of sight
bringing the bittersweet nostalgia
as the gentle breeze suddenly cooled
and the crickets hushed
there was the feeling of hopeful anticipation
For the leaves to turn from shade to shades
For the snow to fall, the flowers to grow
and for the fireflies to return
Sep 2014 · 451
Jay Sep 2014
I tried distraction
and asking nicely
But yielded no action
or response, precisely
I begged, I pleaded
to the hourglass master
To bring future I needed
to appear much faster

Yet time ticked on
at a snail's pace, alas
and I wanted to be gone
To smash the hourglass

I waited and waited
To be in my prime
Continually grated
by the crawl of time

Until I eventually realized
the fault in my ways
That I had idealized
the passage of days

So I'm trying to live
in the here and now
The present's mine to give
and in time I'll learn how
Sep 2014 · 249
Jay Sep 2014
They have money
I have dreams

He has friends
I have work

She has a lover
I have a cookie

We have problems
I have hope
Sep 2014 · 508
My Apologies
Jay Sep 2014
I'm sorry
I didn't know you wanted a love poem
Really, I didn't
I'm not good at those
I never try to write them
You're the first one to ask
Why come to me in search of roses and affection
Deep connections
I'm not good at those
I never try to right them
And I don't want to wrong you
Really, I don't
I wish knew how to give you a love poem
But this is all I wrote
Sep 2014 · 276
Seeking Friend
Jay Sep 2014

Is there anyone out there?

Is there anyone out there that feels
Is there anyone out there that feels so small

so tiny
and insignificant and lost and confused
despite the fact that they are made of stardust and tread the ground of the greats?
because even though their very existence is an unlikely miracle
they just feel so

Well, I do.

*"Me too."
Aug 2014 · 474
Jay Aug 2014
How do I tell you
I don't have the words to say
Please stop loving me
Aug 2014 · 617
Jay Aug 2014
I don't get to make mistakes.
Nothing I do is impulsive or rash.
Cold. Calculated. Meticulous.
Never spontaneous.
My blood never runs hot
and I'm not
reckless as my age would confess.
They say I never had the mind of a child
and they're right I guess

Now my head is on my shoulders
But I can't help but wonder
Were we
meant to be bold so we can live?
Because I'm crawlingoutof my skin
Simmering red racingthrough my veins intomychestand
I want to breathe FIRE
No more plans
No more future
And I'm-
The world starts spinning
I start to cool
All the worries all the questions all the plans...
They never did me any good anyway
So before I can think
before I can doubt
Before I lose out
on another beautiful thing my caution causes me to miss
I'll make mistakes,
...if you insist
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