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 May 2014 Jordyn Stevens
Pea
It begins when a
butterfly dies. My stomach
is an insect grave.
 May 2014 Jordyn Stevens
marina
every wall of this house reminds me
of you-

reminds me that you are 591 miles
away, and i haven't heard from you
for seventeen days, and i am beginning
to worry

before you left we sat on the
couch and i asked you to promise
me you would stay alive.
when i held out my pinkie you couldn't
take it, and i always tried to make sure
you'd never see me cry, but i couldn't
stand the thought of living
around your ghost and i guess i just
                                                   lost it

there is a cold spot on the sofa and
i wonder if it is you
i wish i were brave enough to ask
 May 2014 Jordyn Stevens
JN
Untitled
 May 2014 Jordyn Stevens
JN
the poems you write
about her
are exactly what i feel about you.
-J.N
 May 2014 Jordyn Stevens
Legion
We are all strays
Searching for a home
In the secret places
Of each other.
 May 2014 Jordyn Stevens
Lunar
beware when you fall in love
with an artist
be it a painter, a singer, or poet

for the artist will
paint you
with strokes and hues
in shapes of every kind

sing about you
with heartbreak lyrics
and feelings which rhyme

write about you
with the simplest words
and a secret message she wants to say

beware of the artist,
and her love
one wrong move
and you're an artwork in her display
If I was a mountain

That soared towards the sky,

With craggy snow caps

And stormy grey eyes-



Then you'd be the clouds

That swaddled my peak,

That silenced my thunder

When I tried to speak.



If I was the earth

The desert, in fact:

With arid dry soil

And mud, baked and cracked-



You'd be the rain

The downpour that soothed;

The balm to my bruises,

Relief to my wounds.



If I was the Moon

In the indigo night,

With stars as my blanket

And silver; my light-



Well you'd be the Sun

Just always behind

That lent me your glow

And caused me to shine.
I heard your voice on the radio
Each word transmitting
from your lips
You touch me more than you even know
From my neck to your fingertips

To be under your skin
is where I should have been.
From the start I knew
a little bit of everything
except you.
And to know you
is to know everything.
 May 2014 Jordyn Stevens
r
The sun
rose again
today.
God sighed,
looked away.  
Jesus wept.

r ~ 5/18/14
kissing you was like swerving into oncoming traffic

i can never tell if i am more haunted by empty picture frames or the ashes of their contents

you taught me that the saying "pick your battles" meant not answering when love was at the door

sometimes when i drink whiskey i swear i can hear your voice in the creases of my bedsheets & i sleep on the floor

i still catch myself running my hands over things you touched the most, looking for the echoes of your fingertips

i practice things i'll never say to you

i remember the day you told me you didn't like poetry, how "everything's already been said" & how "nothing meaningful can be captured without being cliche" you know, i don't miss you like the sun and moon, i do not miss you like tide bent waves crashing on the shoreline, i miss you like a chernobyl  swingset misses children

rumor has it that drowning is a lot like coming home, that drinking bleach can **** the butterflies in your stomach

for your love of cigarettes, i would have been an ashtray

this halloween i want to dress up as the you when you loved yourself and show up on your doorstep

i never understood what you meant when you said i was an instrument, back when you would cup your hands around my chest and breathe through the holes in my heart, i still wonder if the sounds i made remind you of wind chimes

i never paid much attention to abandoned buildings until i became one

in my dreams all the flowers smell like your perfume

i am the only person who has ever wished for the same snowflake to fall twice

if i could go back, and rewrite the definition of audacity, it would be how when we lost the bet of love, you said "we never shook on it"

i love you, if the feeling is not mutual, please pretend this was a poem

the only apology i want from you, is to have you repeat the names of children we will never have in your parents living room until they *****

we are the same person if you find yourself up at 4am dry heaving promises, or if you are kept awake by the laughter of those who've abandoned you

nobody ever told you that goodbyes taste like the back of stamps

sometimes i'm convinced that the only reason we hug, is so you can check my back for exit wounds

— The End —