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May 9 · 24
Julie Butler May 9
Tonight I want to
write something beautiful

say it perfect so you call it a poem

read it again;
How pretty
now that it’s about you

call me
call it love on Tuesday
again like cinnamon
tomorrow like coffee

never too early
late like my timing &

good morning
cheers too for something

kiss the moon
smack the sun
eat a star and call it breakfast
I dare you
May 1 · 45
Julie Butler May 1
I think we’re just
bodies sometimes

a how-to
on becoming the ocean

or Saturday

something to swallow

It’ll make a list of me

I call it something else
let it run across me like
calling it back

acts like a thorn
& turns me back to flowers
Apr 17 · 125
full pour
Julie Butler Apr 17
I get so
dizzy and
want to drink you

it’s just Tuesday-hey
but it’s
green and keeps

hi it’s me

hi it’s

e v e r y evening

hey it’s

lee-press-on love songs
to patch up
e v e r y feeling

hi from
me from the floor
& make me your ceiling

I’m full stop
still feeling
every feeling

hi there
I’m not scared of
all of these things  

But it’s just

it’s so **** green
& just keeps on singing
Mar 27 · 36
Julie Butler Mar 27
I’m waiting
Wanting to swim in the mouth of Summer
I’m waiting

**** out the roots too
pull everything out like you mean it
Return me to space
or wherever I was before this
Return me to my body

I’m ready for sweat
I’m ready for barely

I can’t feel it
but I feel it
Like Deja vu
smells like afternoon & salt
butter it up
stay awake tonight

I’ve been reading this book
the entire time
I’ll underline it for you

Tell me everything you haven’t yet
and I’ll kiss it quietly
be my weekend & my Wednesday

shut me up with another one
still & stuck
do me a favor and
don’t do me any

keep me like a charm
it’s going to taste so much better
Mar 12 · 108
two leaves
Julie Butler Mar 12
Where is my window ?
I need the
wind to blow &
take me with it

flip me over like a

where to end or
when to begin

I’m begging in poetry
to let me in on it

heedless nightcap
Send me to my dreams soon

give me to the girl at the bookstore
Like a scented letter

but, send me to my dreams soon
I can’t have anything
else tonight
Nov 2017 · 711
Julie Butler Nov 2017
little by little
i’m chipping away
off my neck now,
my shoulders
day after day

my arms &
my elbows
my f i n g e r t i p s knew

that my wrists are to straw
as my heart is to you

so it’s onto my ribs now
my hips turn to glass

thick skin learns so quick
it gets thin & won’t last

i’m frightened, reminding my thighs
they can hold, the last of our body -
turn rust into gold

I start to give up now
& quit rings my ears
but my knees start to speak;
out loud like my mouth
with a voice through my feet

say, “a mood moves our blood at the pace of our fears, and the heart will beat fast so the body can hear. if you lie here like this, your flowers will go, & all of this woman will no longer float.
Jul 2017 · 959
Sand Castles
Julie Butler Jul 2017
don't rush the morning
it's too soon or
too early & we're always passing something (along or)
i'm hanging, hating coulds
fighting to find just being alright again

it's July already
a bird will fly across your view or through a thought
& you won't think about me or linens or anything;
& sometimes i'd rather be the burning thing
between the horizon and the clouds
when the sun sets
than this

i'd rather be quiet

cause you're calling vacation what i call patience and i don't know summer at all anymore

i'm mourning weather
i'm dressed in memory
the lavender is almost gone and
it's almost time I went back home for a while
May 2017 · 627
Julie Butler May 2017
Uphill grinning
spinning webbed-breaths under
Spring's spilling through
rows of roses, tied behind
vines that could rip anyone red
are all the
quiet notes about pretty

& what a Sunday for sailing
blossoms through drying hair and
fickle feelings about an old poem
on a blanket, how fitting

but i'm trying;
i still find rhymes under
fir trees and still get
tired from laughing

i still ask why without crying
denying only while smiling.
this is 29 in a wine glass

stretching the afternoon like my
legs in the morning
pouring out yesterday's moaning
& sure as every bird i'll be
a blinking throat
counting her money

but for now i'm just
two hands
taking an orange home
for it's honey
Mar 2017 · 1.1k
Julie Butler Mar 2017
that slow blink never helped you (y'know)
and thanks but
my voice sounds the same, still
i can't count on
whatever rule about numbers you used
it is useless

and even
a forest of poets couldn't dig it up
or a ship, full of it
i'd swim under the mad waves
away from them

so, by my bones i speak
every language i need
finding more that
love is like a field
kept by wild things
as open as a child's eyes
all of this room to
keep growing
Feb 2017 · 834
another cup
Julie Butler Feb 2017
it is
February already
& the rain keeps confusing me on
what day of the week it is.
he says over coffee, how the
storms are keeping him up /
making me grateful for Florida summers.
i made mine too strong & am having another, reminds me how you'd laugh & dispute either
ever being a problem.
i am convinced i'm
happiest with my heart beating like this anyway
and on my way back downstairs
i look down passed my knees & think
if feet shook like hands i'd
probably take up flying
Jan 2017 · 1.2k
Julie Butler Jan 2017
I felt and then fell, I
did not even jump
I flew to kiss lips that
knew nothing of love.
I bent and I borrowed
forgetting to say
I held something with you
I do not have today
although there are storms
be there
break and decay
our love it made
look simple like rain
Nov 2016 · 993
Julie Butler Nov 2016
i have been
clothesline dreaming
screaming fits, saying
i've prayed, praying i'll
say what i mean and
you've been that
poetry pouring out of me
a bleeding but you are the
portions of a reality
i only see when i sleep
my god, it's been
seventy weeks, oh
and the colors i cannot see past
twelve shades of torture your body makes
anytime you do anything
it's all
brown and green and mean to me
i mean i need it
it feeds me i mean
i don't think you mean to
i think it's just
me meeting me sometimes &
that's meaningful right ?
tell that to me at night
to the dark and stars and all of the
quiet questions i guess i guessed the
answers to
tell that to me in my bedroom
ask me the time this time &
i'll tell you about that time i thought about love and saw a burning bed
ask me again and i'll show you
say love again, love
i've been dying to show you
Nov 2016 · 884
Julie Butler Nov 2016
I just needed to hear something
soft like
yellow from the lamp or
my love because
I can't stand the haunting hum of waiting
the anxious, ancient hour under my bone
half bent, ticking
picking my flaws like a hurt bird;
it is my time i give away
& unlike my heart
sadly stuck with me
i cannot keep, cannot get
these minutes back
Sep 2016 · 1.1k
Julie Butler Sep 2016
The colors of late September
talking and falling again
announcing each other like
gulls for bread
remind me that I've listened

yet every day is black and black
the mask's unsettling sweat builds and
underneaths a frowning girl
settling into it

yes darling, I see the blue
I see the coins stored under my lips
haven't paid off and
you've painted nothing to hide the holes
i'd ask for your hand in this and squint
but you, you must not have heard it

and here i've been
as cooperative as ants /
as sad as fate
with hands as red as the ibis
falling tired and certainly
tired of falling
Julie Butler
Aug 2016 · 696
Julie Butler Aug 2016
My* Monday blues they
start with you.
I am amused I'm not
moved, I
may be reused it is
the day before
I choose blue before
muse I must
stay in my own shoes
I clutch fists it is
no use I trust
come ups from cruel while we
lust what is proof-less
is seemingly useless
rust like the useless
like metal, like bruises
so quit acting clueless
I've dropped more than clues and
now I must move for
I cannot keep chewing all of your
lies up for you
& dive,
deep until it doesn't feel like swimming
and look up, neckbent until I'm dizzy
Aug 2016 · 818
Julie Butler Aug 2016
it is when I sit with
beautiful things
I am reminded that
nothing ever keeps;
the words might smear or
the air should dampen
and if
you should not believe me
ask the flower what it is like for her
at nighttime and then
ask her to repeat it
explain to her
what it is like to be
lived in
Jul 2016 · 672
Julie Butler Jul 2016
hold me down to the
I cannot make pretty songs of us
how much I weigh
I'm one hundred and thirty three pounds
in love with you
twenty eight years too old and
twenty eight years away from your legs
a lady
a waiting woman
making food,
away from your mouth
I'm making
mistake after distaste for
this pattern this
extra pace for shapes that
never fit us so
when I get dressed and when I
detest it I'm
trying something new I'm
nothing to do with you
Jul 2016 · 524
Julie Butler Jul 2016
I'm speaking in
leaves and with dirt against
trying to sleep
repeating the hot hum of heartache
& stopping to breathe
I have been
inside & under
this horrible robe /
its ropes tied too close &
I'm starting to choke /
breaking-down wine & the whys to find
fumbling's curse
repetitive lure-slurring prose
in my own faulted purse
this is a
tree and then paper
a bird and now blood
& all of the bones you've swept up
stick out of the rug
Jul 2016 · 503
Julie Butler Jul 2016
I wake up to the long whisper of morning
the beet-red smell of throbbing,
stops the birds from singing
stops her from spinning, now
cross-legged I,
I wear another small-dress
representing our pressed thighs,
reminding me
of October again, but it's
Thursday &
darling I cannot go back there today.
I need coffee; more pros and another blanket to
wake my pride.
I need to **** out the Orchid
lounging on my tongue after I've
watered your name
Jul 2016 · 1.0k
Julie Butler Jul 2016
while I chase the sunshine
& clouds framing the
shape of your mouth like
who am I to think she can fly or
get that high
but it's Sunday.
I am
asking the air a favor
that your thinnest shirt might
remind you of me
that the next time you run
the sun could burn you some
that we might get a drink and
blink a thousand times in a bar
is nonsense
weekend news
like a shovel to help make your pretty bed
call me your
friend and
tell her yes
wake up again and against it
ask me
if I am
in love
Jul 2016 · 634
Julie Butler Jul 2016
I tried to trace our shadows
left and right from the wrists
but l'm pacing
back and forth I'm
waving you in.
rearranging my mornings
adjusting my sighs on you
so they sit right on my feet
so I can say love and take it
belittle forgiveness
you made the sea find its way through
my throat
you took sentence after sentence from my hair
& burned a beautiful mouth
turn my hands to rust
my body to weeds
and anyway
fate is for the birds
it's seems
when the bats start biting
Jun 2016 · 1.1k
aren't you
Julie Butler Jun 2016
oh limp morning, take me early  
I taste June like burning
sometimes soft like cinnamon
filling up for hollow afternoons.
French-kissing myself and
all my, finely laced thoughts about you
all of that heat spread in pots
I call a garden & slowly I let you
spread me thin again
Jun 2016 · 382
Julie Butler Jun 2016
spilt on
another metal-goodnight another
"I hope we're alright"
darling it's Sunday
honey it's numbers like,
four and
ten; it is fourteen, I'm spent
I'm done saying I'm
bent and yours and-or-hers, I'm
again I am, against this
might as well say
tired, my god
I'm allowed to be quiet
I can't fix tired or change what's burnt
I won't
move for you if it hurts
I won't
if it hurts
& I can float from humility but
I won't if you serve it
do not think it is worth it
Jun 2016 · 438
Julie Butler Jun 2016
love isn't every when you're tired
but I dance I dance with love every hour
foot step on footstep, right now
you're on the couch
you're on my mind you're always
doesn't mean I'm being still
am I and am I ask me if I'm ever still
and I'd still tell you sometimes
I'd still say
sand and
I'd say I
love you too and
Jun 2016 · 633
didn't I
Julie Butler Jun 2016
I've felt as, left-over as
last-night's left-hand & her
reclaiming, uncanny way of
well / of
my oh my, what a
good morning, I'd love to but;
I'd just need my heart back

it's the cartwheeled chaos
slapping against,
counting again to see if it works-
I'm calling my bluff I've had
enough of all the nothing.
you're the little tag on my red
the writing in black
every time it is grey until
there isn't anything left of you but
a hundred poems
the striped gills of my sorrow and
some slang cause
I ain't got it in me anymore
May 2016 · 662
Julie Butler May 2016
Last night's courage not to call you
last night and every;
peel off pretty, it's six it's 7,
Is something
is tired, rewind her

I can lie down, longer
she's got it, going on.
stitches and weekends
never with you on the weekend
isn't cotton
isn't your mouth either

living up handstands
living down longing
is really
is lonely
in yellow
I don't want, sometimes
I still want you shouldn't you
ever want me
isn't poetry
isn't easy
and every
blisters on
forget it
my lips on
Julie butler
May 2016 · 531
Julie Butler May 2016
I believe that
every bone has a story
that even the sun gets tired
that's why it rains /
I saw you waltzing
in and out like, you'd gotten lost
you keep sayin' in
everyone else's tongue so I'd
finally forgotten what you sound like;
it's been, all chop & pour anymore so,
I gently shut all of those, doors against
locks I'd given away the keys to.
they'd find me out the window,
into wet gardens of snails and worm
a stolen bird with no nest
doesn't want a handout
just more time to
make back her bed
Julie Butler
May 2016 · 763
Julie Butler May 2016
I'm in a little bit of a rush here
still I'm
trying much softer /
speaking in grey, untying my
biting the side with your name on it /
be something other than beautiful
say something other than rain
liar's lullaby, a
fool's morning
feeding off the extra
& I'm to do it over again ¿
twice removed.
in your shoes.
under my spell.
over coffee.
put on the Beach Boys this time
drink *****
stay up 2 hours longer
I'll see you again, I swear
when there is, less grass and
when you call her
do it in the other room
the cold one, way in the back
May 2016 · 606
Julie Butler May 2016
Something told me to hold still when I met you, that it would only sting a little / like maybe the sea wasn't wet or something

daffodil midnights, upside down on the bottle, listening to my lips spill dread over your pretty hands, how my knees remind me that I can't reach them

I'm over feet
over toes / oh no here I go
overload I'm -
in-over my head I'm,
against my own limbs, sometimes

but it was only the wall
it's just a couch
a few shots, your jeans, my kingdom
2 airplanes, a couple of hours
my head in your hands
my heart on the floor
broken secrets, happy birthday
happy birthday
I love you, I loved you
I can't stop playing that goodbye
May 2016 · 832
Julie Butler May 2016
I imagine outer space to feel like this.
no matter what, I can't lie down.
seeing a star that close made
all else seem
so much less bright.
I'm unimpressed.
I just want to love again but, you left that spell on me.
my eyes don't see color anymore,
my arms aren't reaching.
you printed poems onto my bones.
my mouth won't let me say marvelous and my hands quit thinking.
I'll turn to dust like this darling.
I'll be a little sandstorm on your
shore for awhile and
dizzily dissolve into your
winsome crashing.
Apr 2016 · 590
Julie Butler Apr 2016
strung out on
drunk stung-drumming under this skin
isn't mine when you touch it
fight the belting, beg again
memorized muscle and music
trying and failing
melting and falling
repeat the crawling song;
confused teeth, knees
leaving feet, forgetful hand-smothered-feelings \ religious breathing, heart-beat bleeding, gentle breeze please lift my ribs with your pleases after my name leaves your gut after my nails peel you off, an ode to pretending, for stopping;
a better use of force
a better Wednesday waiting
sistering indifference and swelling on sheets never made for pigments preferring the latter again, and I
I haven't felt this way since my leaves fell
since the water settled under my belt
before & after lonely
refer me to laughter when I cannot breathe  & cry about how it'll never work
Apr 2016 · 1.1k
Julie Butler Apr 2016
ecstatic, lateral / irrational longing
ticktock time bomb waiting for your
slack to tighten, get back to me

whiskey-stung bottom lip under
white sheets and thunder
hollow hands hold out heavy-
drowned secrets from my left lung
make the nights last longer
make the air even against the thought of what you sing when I'm leaving

recount the loudest bouts from which I crumble
worship one thigh at a time, my god
why don't they come with a warning;
the morning put stones on my bowing
another good reason to kiss you
another's lost lover, ocean story
red-wave cravings
I'll pay in great shades of grey & plunder
shave my legs and go
right back under
Apr 2016 · 525
Julie Butler Apr 2016
sunburnt stitches girl
you're early grasp I'm
itchy grass
& I can't, I'm mad
I can't I can and cannot stand
how it still goes
I keep quiet I
still walk barefoot on this shell-sharp sand
still crawl through the memory of your legs
back of the head regret, on top of another body
it's just coffee it's just
time after time
never the right amount of miles

I want to
stop loving you now
cause sometimes
I wish I could scream the word out loud
use your name
so they know all of these were always to you
Apr 2016 · 812
Julie Butler Apr 2016
you're about as
quiet as lightning
& just as much ;
you put the light in it
I'm counting down from two-thousand,
quitting breakfast and everything early
that bird can keep it like:
what am I supposed to do if I can't have you
what kind of a sudden is it breathing cause I have to \
****** the gasps I caught you stealing-
Saturday mourning on Wednesday's feelings
I like Monday cause, Friday's fleeting

I own the rest of my hair, you know
you own my body
I'm as open as the screen-door you broke
& you did handstands for someone else already
otherwise I'd listen, cause
I can't find the lyrics in splitting
can't find the best in bleeding
that love was airplane-waiting
that love was
silent begging, restless leg\
restless blinking
rip the
day out my weeks baby
till all I keep lie sleeping
take me back to "I didn't see it coming"
take me back to that night you thought you loved me
Apr 2016 · 624
Julie Butler Apr 2016
I've spent my morning on adjectives,
trying kindly to describe her. I couldn't make them fit. I'd lost the joy in remembering us & saw under my eyes what difference the kitchen floor made. Quite sad a way to look at something so beautiful. One heartbreak away from holiness, I'm afraid I've forgotten how to long for something. I found metaphors under the rocks I'd grown too large to hide under and sometimes it's just worth digging in dirt to find the proper use of my indignance. My not-so-subtle search for dignity. & after all the cigarettes and kicking, I made my coffee and a vow to myself. That I would leave my bones where they were from now on. That I was a woman, full of blood and empathy and feeling sorry for myself was useless. That I hadn't fallen in love after all. I'd leglessly tripped face first  & from now on, I was going to watch where I stepped.
Apr 2016 · 1.8k
she's not sorry
Julie Butler Apr 2016
3pm *****
a ballerina learning to slow-dance in jeans
is the stolid way you call me pretty

I've known better, never to settle
as I order another, please
I can forgive me
But we've just been kissing
& pity breeds missing you, weak

I'm never bored, never sorry
watch you pull me from the ground
much like those Macbeth witches
I could have guessed
you aren't around

but you talk like you're so sorry
only to wipe it off of your belt
Steel-toe folktale, go home
& tell it to somebody else
Apr 2016 · 479
Julie Butler Apr 2016
the heart knows what about love ?
that bleeding fiend, knows more about drums
ask my thumbs, ask my lungs

I'm holding a hand or
the back-end of the blade
& waiting, waning
away from away

We aren't made of sunsets
or cartwheel hangovers
I didn't find you standing under an apple tree & you never held me the longest
even when I prayed for it

a leftover beginning, midnight snack;
lie down under a beautiful stranger like you love her, like the air between the sweat & sheet meet my intention of a mouth doing everything at once isn't love but
somehow it's better
Mar 2016 · 1.2k
Julie Butler Mar 2016
aren't you
sorry for leaving ?
I've dissolved like salt
because I've become it
I'm fluent now, in being silent

Paced myself over and over
breaths because I have to
naming them after you,
because I forgot what need was

flatline me another time, love
tonight so I can sleep &

these are weekends;
those are mouths meeting.
I'm going to quit calling it love
& call for a favor cause

the wave is wild like the whale
just ask her;
I'm riding all of them on
shoreline shoulders
a continent of rhetorical knuckles
buttoned toward my throat

no mercy in floating through the roof
it was never a boat that saved us
only bones
my moral roots
doing whatever you say
Mar 2016 · 541
Julie Butler Mar 2016
I've quit calling it falling
all of the
gulping that I fend

Now that I've bent all my limbs backwards
I'm having to break them all back in

buried in what I play the fool for
always the liar and then friends

dreading that I should fall asleep
knowing that this must somehow

always i'm
packing up my reason,
freely & giving up my time
I'm tired of
dragging this body behind me
fearing the
damage it's done on my spine
Mar 2016 · 855
We're frequent
Julie Butler Mar 2016
silver cup reflection
sip watcher
I'll have it, I'll take two now

let me die beside
something beautiful
even if it won't love me

& say thank you
a hundred times until tomorrow
good morning
late thought hangover
my mind can't wash it

I don't want to say
during poetry
but nothing helps, so

count down like a rocket
for something less than
a show of sparks
honey, it rains like we do it's
only March
shake it
Jan 2016 · 1.5k
the usual
Julie Butler Jan 2016
gorgeous doesn't
do you
when I just wished for the chorus
singing our lousy song, I
stayed up late with it
counted the sheep
they fell asleep
clutching the sheets
stop thinking there's a
quit pouring that red-cheek idea
down your throat
a few more
the song should end soon
sore knee love
should end soon
professional pretender
bending blinks
more drinks, bartender
loving you gets
I'm paying with my
I'm being lied to by sunlight
cause I can't trust anything
after it leaves
Jan 2016 · 570
Julie Butler Jan 2016
that afternoon mouth
summer fruit and
what else can I pull through these lungs
a cheek-full of
five full breaths, impossible to clear
another Saturday smiling
I get it
there's girls as
pretty as
you everywhere
Jan 2016 · 577
Julie Butler Jan 2016
my gasps they
actively react to you
accidentally I think
facing the tall-bed-duet
dragging your
thigh towards
my cheek
was beautiful up
side down & it
took me
took me
falling asleep
Jan 2016 · 614
Julie Butler Jan 2016
A leftover prayer
under your knuckles
under blinking
that day it rained a little
you squeeze me below &
I spent the entire night in love
with you
I wouldn't call it daring
after the foam builds,
little skeletons drifting out to
spell your name & I
asked for coffee
to keep safe my lips

shut me up
Jan 2016 · 866
Julie Butler Jan 2016
I said enough when it wasn't  
my like for a mountain of
mouths to **** time
& I'm still standing in the hallway;
happening upon where it went
if you could have helped it
I know I couldn't
when I can hardly stand or
stand it
built a lump of love in the blue dark
during wine
she's just
a woman in jeans
a heavy thought against my knees or
something I think I need to
belong with me
Jan 2016 · 684
The towel
Julie Butler Jan 2016
I'm not a child
woman I'm
this wanting thing between
two arms
shaped like a body
I've been alive with the breeze for
centuries, darling

my love wasn't being made to make you feel foolish
you can't learn from that
wash your hands now, it's midnight
out the window
I wonder
what you wanted
and hold the whiskey in my mouth
singing be mine
for the company
cause I don't want to be ashamed to love you

& I'm tired.
Tired of sleeping after sweet dreams /
I'm sitting up now because you know I can't sleep  
who wants to sleep after a beg like that
I'm not built to be listless
I'm built for better, I'm strong
& you're
the 4pm sun in October
you're the reason I whistle in a hundred colors
It's a beautiful torture to miss a hand so much
to wear rings for the memory of fingers and to crave a cheek, not only for it's mouth but because feeling you allows me to breathe easy
Jan 2016 · 631
Julie Butler Jan 2016
it's enough feeling
forgotten, (you'd think)
seeing her brush go
everywhere but the paper;
wondering if I missed something /
love makes me a believer in naive
less sleep, questioning everything.
questioning wander it's
no wonder I don't dream it's
games atop bodies
it's no wonder I drink;
I've been screaming for you
every day of the week
choking on salt from the waves
in your sea of bad timing
Julie Butler
Dec 2015 · 524
Julie Butler Dec 2015
the truth's not poetic.
I can't fight for you
when I'm being folded

I just don't feel
strong or
not stronger
some memories
wear black &

what's getting over when
i've stopped climbing ?
my feelings aren't
being tucked
getting up
Dec 2015 · 847
Julie Butler Dec 2015
great love to me is frightening
it's all ache and burn
rearranging of breath & bones
justifying anything at all to see that
smile in front of me
I can't
rightfully explain it the way my knees can
or my
right hand but
I like to call it floating
I like to feel that &
sink at the same time \
it's confusing and beautiful;
hours become petals,
heartbeats are worthy and
it is cold settling after this.
it is unbreathable
when the warmth gets wasted
Dec 2015 · 649
add a poem
Julie Butler Dec 2015
the poetry wasn't about her
it was the birds I;
I found it under her bones
we aren't the same while we sleep
so far away &

4:00AM isn't what time it is
me choking
and when we
talk about the weather it's not
conversation it's
burning and
blood just doesn't run the same
once it's been touched
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