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Jan 2013 · 490
making pretend
Kate Lion Jan 2013
Crawl into this space I made for you
Be the elephant in the room
I won’t think it odd when you snore like my father
Your head resting soft on my shoulder
All of us need to rest sometimes
Rest yourself on me

Race through this gap I hold open for you
Be the bull in the china shop
I won’t blame you for cracking my favorite teacups
Your hooves crashing down on the fragilest pieces of me
All of us need to be reckless sometimes
Wreck yourself through me

Shroud yourself in the cave’s mouth I hollowed out
Be the cat that’s got my tongue
But don’t scratch out that writing on the wall to the left-
(Because it’s about all I’ve got left)
All of us need to be left alone, sometimes
Let yourself alone in me

I’m not the strongest tree out there
My skeletal trunk is slumped over with moss
But green is your favorite color,
Make a bed of it
And rest your weary limbs upon my own
I’ll cradle you in the hammocked branches
Watching my fingershadows of you fall across the forest floor

It’s on nights like this by the light of the moon
I pretend you need me
Like I need you
Jan 2013 · 2.2k
Manners
Kate Lion Jan 2013
I’m not entirely sure what you’re looking for
And I’m sorry if I don’t fit into the wardrobe you picked out
I tried cutting off my arms to fit into the straightjacket better
But it hurt too much
And I wasn’t willing to give up so many things
Just to be with you

I suppose I shouldn’t ask you to cut out your heart to fit into my hand better
I shouldn’t ask for things like that
The only polite things to ask are simpler than that
“Can I use your bathroom?”
“May I sit down?”
Yes
I don’t talk out of turn anymore
Because last time that happened I was a stranger
A thief rummaging through your things at 3 in the morning
And you shattered all of my intentions with that blunt baseball bat

I’m still not sure you recognized me
Jan 2013 · 807
Apathetically:
Kate Lion Jan 2013
My heart flat-lined yesterday
At approximately 5:28 in the afternoon
The time doesn’t really matter
Nor, I suppose
Does the fact that I flat-lined yesterday
(For; I’m still alive, though not living)
But I thought it was an interesting fact
And wondered if you, too, would be interested in knowing
That I hit ground-level apathy
For everything
And for reasons beyond my control

Before you go thinking I’m depressed over you
Or over something you did
Be assured that my heart flat-lined for reasons beyond anyone’s control
Except my own
But it had to be done, I suppose
In order to feel again

The funny thing is knowing
That I could curl up on my bed and eat my favorite things
While reading the letter you wrote to me a few years ago
And fall in love with you again
With the wonderful twists my stomach makes
When you look at me a certain way
Or when I think of your lips meeting mine

But the thing that scares me the most to think about
Is that perhaps it wouldn’t be me falling in love with you again
If I have to eat my favorite things to be feel a certain way

The thing about today is that I know God is up there somewhere
But I can’t find it in me to care
I’m neither sinning nor making good
Not being tempted, not being persuaded
I simply exist
With no plans or future or decisions to make
I suppose my struggle with my favorite foods is the one exception to what I’ve described

See,
I know that God is up there somewhere
But today it’s that I just cannot force myself to care
There’s a wall between He and I somewhere in the lining of my stomach
(And though I never meant for it to be there)
It keeps Him from touching my soul
18 years of bad habits built up in my arteries
Clogging my heart from anything but apathy
But somewhere I found it in me to cry yesterday
As it flat-lined at 5:28
God made me human
With all these emotions
That I have a natural right to feel

(I know now
Why our Mother ate that which was forbidden)

So this apathy
Is a test trial of us
And though I still love you
Today
I don’t feel for you
Or for anything
Until tomorrow
(I hope)
Jan 2013 · 291
r v. w
Kate Lion Jan 2013
There are people
Who can't hunt anything but rabbits because they are easiest to **** and collect their little rabbit feet because shattering a mirror makes you worse off than taking a life of the innocent for good luck
Jan 2013 · 1.1k
.since i am an adult.
Kate Lion Jan 2013
I am a turtle
And I don't much mind the darts of the adversary
I collect them after they bounce off this shell
Make Lincoln log homes out of them
And pretend that I live somewhere else and can come and go as I please
I'm not a 30 year old boy who sits in his mother's basement playing video games
But I don't feel that I've quite grown up yet
Don't feel that I've quite moved out yet
Why is that
Why is this sandbag heart sitting alone in a warehouse with nothing to safeguard, nothing to protect
Kate Lion Jan 2013
Remember when I ran a cheese grater over the maps
Told you traveling scared me to death
- I changed after you shipwrecked my soul against the walls of your heart
How lucky I am that
Souls can't be created or destroyed
They are always something, in one form or another
And I am so happy
Because this raft of driftwood has made an adventurer of me
Kate Lion Jan 2013
.im just saying
if you hear music that -is meant to stir your soul with a wooden spoon
shoved down your throat to scrape out the best of you like left over batter out of a bowl-
if that brownie mix still tastes like me
you're not over it
not yet.
Kate Lion Jan 2013
i want to know how you wrote my eulogy
if it took you five minutes or if it will take five lifetimes
to hack up your excuses like dry hairballs
presented at the feet of every person who will ask
why the little turtle dove is dead to you now
Jan 2013 · 624
i have yet to discover fire
Kate Lion Jan 2013
let's show the children what it is to brush our teeth and wear deodorant
halt the habits that made my fingerprints as flat as Nebraska and illegible as kindergarten drawings
own up to the grown up that started creeping out our fingernails when we realized our souls were too big for these bodies and our love wasn't a Velcro heart that could detach from a sleeve as easily as all of those parasites wanted us to believe
.we were trees. -and i was a match-
but i couldn't tell if we were huggers or lovers, could never decide if your kisses were breath mints or frost bite
i knew what i wanted you to be
i would always pretend to be a dragon in the winter, smoke escaping my nose with every exhale
but once we grew up i realized that hot air means nothing
if you never find the fire
Jan 2013 · 525
.pumpkin carving. (poetry)
Kate Lion Jan 2013
it's like scraping the parts of yourself that you hate onto paper

-to make room for the light-
Jan 2013 · 1.2k
nuclear fallout
Kate Lion Jan 2013
i aced my history classes
they teach you about the war in vietnam
they teach you about the revolutionary war
they teach you about the battle of the bulge
the civil war
but what
of the wars you will face within yourself?
those
are seldom talked about
people blow their own minds
up
with destructive behaviors and terrible choices
one soldier fighting both sides
the post-traumatic stress of their own human experience
hmmm?
what of those people.
what of me.
Jan 2013 · 552
.genesis three.
Kate Lion Jan 2013
Do trees have itches they can't scratch
I mean
             The limbs that can't move against the wind
             The apple abortions each autumn
I save all of my apple cores
I see forbidden thoughts in them that no one sees in me

"And The Lord God said unto the serpent... upon thy belly shalt thou go, and dust shalt thou eat all the days of thy life..."

Do we look down on the trees like the overgrown lego people that we are
I mean
             Snapping their branches like dry spaghetti
             Devouring the fruits of their labor
             Their body
             Our choice

"Unto the woman he said... in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children..."

I save all of my apple cores
Wonder about the curses of their parents that don't apply to me
At the hands of man the trees fall
Through Autumn the leaves fall
And their children fall as well

"In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread."

And to the tree
God said nothing.
Jan 2013 · 505
.now.
Kate Lion Jan 2013
I don't think we needed an epidural
I mean
Maybe we did afterwards, at the sight of all the afterbirth
But somehow
I feel
We didn't
And I don't think a cesarean was necessary
We sort of slipped into this other world so easily
A place all our own
But it's so sad to see how things change
How two lovers
(Born side by side, into a world they never could have imagined)
Don't even recognize each other anymore
Jan 2013 · 790
.bankrupt.
Kate Lion Jan 2013
I'm all spent
No, really
It's just that one boy wanted my love and one wanted my virtue
But I'm not sure which boy wanted what
All I know is that I'm all spent now
I mean,
I gave all my love to the first boy
And looking back
It seems all he wanted were kisses
And the second boy
Well
You can guess some of the things I gave him
But looking back
It seems that all he wanted was words of affection that kisses can't buy
I can only assume
I mean, I wasn't very good at balancing my checkbook when it all started payrolling out like this
All I know is that I'm staring at the bank account and realizing
I have nothing left to give anyone anymore
Jan 2013 · 4.6k
.the obesity pandemic.
Kate Lion Jan 2013
it's weird
because i saw a sign at the grocery store that says
1 out of every 5 kids in America is starving
Jan 2013 · 1.1k
What I Make of Money
Kate Lion Jan 2013
Gall, dad
If I had my way with money
I would make something out of it
A house of credit cards
Write my poems on all that paper with no true value
I mean
You trade your thoughts for George Washingtons and Abraham Lincolns
Well
I keep mine
To help make more
People
Like the ones on our currency, but currently
I don't think you understand where I'm coming from
And as I sit here
Tapping away with my thumbs on an electronic device that you thought made up for my childhood
I wonder
What did you trade for me?
Jan 2013 · 1.1k
.for my dear father.
Kate Lion Jan 2013
I'm not the girl you think I am
Not really, anyway
There's a lot more to me than the girl in Dr. Seuss pajama bottoms, shrinking beneath the expectations you have set for me
I wish I knew what your expectations are
But it's hard to reach for a bar you can't see
It's hard to mold myself into something that you will accept and place on the mantle of a fireplace so that when strangers come over you can point to me and say that you are proud
I'm not sure if you want candlesticks or a picture frame or a book full of wonderful accomplishments
I could be all of those things, if you wanted
I'm not the girl you think I am
Not really, anyway
I'm stronger than my trembling bottom lip and the tears that break through the walls of my heart sometimes
I wish you weren't so logical and demanding of evidence you can hold in your hands
Because in my mind there's a gold mine of things I am trying to become
And none of them can be deposited in an ATM or withdrawn from a checking account
I'm sorry that I'm not real enough for you
And I'm sorry that you won't step into my mind for a second
So I can show you
The girl behind the numbers
Kate Lion Jan 2013
the type of girl
who will say "i love you"
first
Jan 2013 · 1.3k
Code: To Love You
Kate Lion Jan 2013
And who am I to think I should be loved
[When I’m not even sure what it means
Being me
Anymore]
So I’m tucking away the parts of me
[The Kate Lyn you know and love]
That shouldn't exist That love you
[You won’t have that frustrating child at your feet
Tugging on your shirt for reassurance
Anymore]

I’m closing off the eyes I only had for you
[Forever]
And
[In the meantime]
I’ll learn Braille
[So when you’re ready]
I will trace your spine with my fingertips
To see the name you’ve made for yourself
[Maybe you’ll even let me read your lips
With my own

But I get too far ahead of myself
By wishing that
Don’t I, Love?]

And who am I to think I should be loved
[For all that I am]
When I don’t even know what makes up all that I am
[I have yet to discover my favorite flavor of ice cream
And every stable person ought to know something like that,
I think,
Just in case.]

Who am I to think that you would love me

[I suppose that you did press your lips to my pages
Leaving kisses in the footnotes of my story
Burning away the definition of ‘just friends’]
There are four holes in my story now
[I counted]
When I tell people what happened to us

But love is more than that

[I think
That’s what I would like to learn
At least
By tucking myself away into an envelope for a while
Or perhaps into a bottle
I'd look prettier then
Knees against my chest
Watching my breath fog the glass
Taking my finger to draw hearts in the condensation
Letting it dry
Just to trace it again
Until you choose to see it
Getting drunk off my own message]

There’s more to me than the parts that love you
[I hope]

So I’m tucking myself away
Like I’ve said
[But hopefully not all of me
Because that would mean I can’t find any part of me
That cannot live without you]

Until I know the meaning of me
Until I can say I’ve left my hand on a stove for too long
[Experimenting with other love
Getting truly burned by a person that isn’t you]

I will not let my pencil be my driftwood anymore
[In this tempest we ignore]
I will wash myself up onto white beaches
Exploring the farthest reaches of my mind
[To fill those empty places I never take time to think about
With useful things
Like white roses and garden gnomes
Every yard ought to have those,
I think,
Just in case]

I’m going to stretch myself
[Until I’m thin enough to spread across a page
To be read like a book
Full of poetry that isn’t about you]
I hope you know how much it will hurt to do something like that
To let myself be put on display
[In some foreign library in a distant country]
To be looked through and seen
By eyes that aren’t yours
Because you’ll be somewhere else
[Doing useful things
Like matching socks
Or playing cards
Something like that]

I’m going to live without you
[For a while,
My love]
All those places that I’ve been wanting to see

I’ll see alone
First



[I feel that every person ought to be alone
At least for a little while
At some point
Before they can truly be happy with another]

And if you ever care to find me
[You know where]
Open me up on your card-playing table
[And if I've got white roses resting in my hair
And burns on the palms of my hands]
It will mean
[That I’ve seen all I need
And learned Braille enough]
It will mean
That I have learned what it
[Truly]
Means
To live
[Without you]
Jan 2013 · 14.1k
speaking of you
Kate Lion Jan 2013
All this time you told me that the cotton candy was pink
So I ate at the fluff behind the drywall
I ate it all away
Wondering why I got colder as I did so

Do you know why the peacocks are always alone
I’ve never seen more than one at a time
And I suppose it is because they show all of their colors at once
That isn’t allowed in this game, is it
I thought not

I don’t want to have that kind of plumage anymore
Turn my skin gray and wrinkled and I will sit by like the elephant in the room
Because I never asked you questions you didn’t like
I never asked you to empty the sky into a pitcher just for me

Do you know why the peacocks walk all alone?
Curious, isn’t it?
No friends at all.
Jan 2013 · 1.2k
hitch hiker
Kate Lion Jan 2013
i want to backpack across the ridges of your rib cage
see what keeps your heart from collapsing on itself
examine the stitching, the rivers of veins and where they lead
i want to put a flag
or at least drop a candy wrapper
somewhere
and when you'd bend over to examine it before throwing it away
i'd like to think that
for once
you were picking up on me
Jan 2013 · 608
me thoughts
Kate Lion Jan 2013
Oh that I believed in solipsism
All those fears of gossip would blossom in little polyps all over my mind
Making what everyone thought of me
Simply- everything I think of myself
Oh that I could reach the first impressions with an all-encompassing blindfold
And emerge from behind the curtain as the person I am in this moment
If ice cubes melt I surely don't exist anymore
Because that was years ago
So what am I?
Oh that I didn't believe in a God
And the only person to hide from was myself
Which in itself is impossible
But disappointing the only other person who knows of my existence
Makes it harder to find reasons to be permanent
Perhaps ice cubes are better for this reason
Becoming less and less significant as you warm them with your hands
Because
I don't want to be anything
To anyone
(Not anymore)
Jan 2013 · 908
Different
Kate Lion Jan 2013
Don't they see that I see that my eyes are blind, that I'm mad in mind,
And hurting in the heart?
That I sense that I'm just one scent in the flower shop, just one cent in the charity box-
I sense that.
But they don't know that I was blinking just to whisper I was sinking, I could tell by all their winking they couldn't tell what I was thinking
When I wished to call myself the name that all professed I had.
And what I saw in the heavens above
Were celestial bodies that called themselves what I thought I always was.
But in the sea it's hard to see your own reflection, hard to see nature's selection, so I floated on, not knowing my complexions imperfections.
I was always trying to speak to them like I was one of them,
Like I was friends with them.
I didn't know that they were far away and had nothing to say,
But when I found out, I
F
  E
    L
      L.
And didn't know then it was the one time when I would most be like all of them,
But still so different.
I'm the smallest star in a sea of sadness
Melting in the madness
Of a mind that went awry when she found seashells were the closes show-and-tells she'd ever have the means to do.
When she was taken aback by the endless black she'd never beautify in sparkling skies and wishful lies
But found that she was forever free to float in salt
As a star
Who'd never start
To find a dream
Or waltz with wishes on the moonbeams.
You see, I've always been different
I don't think I should make sense,
Here I am comparing pennies to scents
In the flower shop, in a charity box,
But it all makes sense to me.
I'm the saddest star in the sea.
I know that I've been broken by these simple things I've spoken,
But I'm no sea star. I do not grow arms
When they snap off in the dark.
I'm just a girl
Who is different.
Kate Lion Jan 2013
what if we tried to weave words into my hair
and it all got tangled around our fingers
till they turned blue and had to be amputated
and we could never hold hands again

what if we tried to plant kisses late at night where the squirrels would never find them
and the rolly poly bugs got to them first
so we'd never get to sleep again
pulling them out of the roots until the sun came up

what if we tried to cook each other dinner and we had to put out a grease fire with my face
(Weird Al reference)
and we'd never be able to touch without my cheeks burning up again

what if we tried to freeze our favorite moments between bags of peas and tater tots
but the power went out and everything thawed and we forgot

what if-
what if we drew blueprints of our future
with footnotes and maps and sketches of beautiful things
just to lose them all downstream one day
like racing newspaper boats against our feet
and we lost our desire to dream anymore

all of these questions
keep me from stepping beyond what is comfortable with you

but
the thing that compels me to continue saying "yes" when you ask me out for dinner
is to think
what if all of that-
didn't?
Jan 2013 · 12.8k
ignorance
Kate Lion Jan 2013
Does the beta know
About life in other fish bowls
Jan 2013 · 507
loose-ended
Kate Lion Jan 2013
I would very much like God to write a book
           on what would have happened tonight

If I'd stood on the table at Olive Garden and shouted:
           "there is no proper etiquette for slurping spaghetti"

blank stares? (especially from that awfully annoying girl I knew in high school who waits tables)
applause? (from myself. like a giddy two year old.
                   after throwing my noodles at the wall to ensure proper stickiness- which could make or break
                                                           ­           the reputation of an Italian restaurant, you know)
cold shoulders? (probably. it was twelve degrees outside tonight. you saw the way our breath mingled
                                                         ­             forming a smoky veil across the stars as we walked)

nah.
i don't care to know any of that, really.

mostly, i just want to know
if the night- well, if I -would have been found a little bit more beautiful by you
had i made your life a little more colorful
and a little more human
by just-

being myself
Jan 2013 · 1.5k
That Which I Cannot Have
Kate Lion Jan 2013
You are the unbearable sort of thing that I wouldn’t want to wear on my feet, even with boots laced up to the knees, because wearing you would force me to cover my polka-dotted toes,
And anyone who would want to compromise my innocence like that is horribly patterned and dull,
                                              
Like the lone argyle sock with the tag still attached that I hate, gathering dust on that shelf in the rain, where the rest of my unwelcome thoughts have found place
                                                           ­     The ones that can’t cover my insecurities
                                                    ­                            Or don’t flatter my figure at all
              
                There’s an obvious scab on my ankle that won’t heal
                Embarrassing, really
                It came from my unwavering faith in open-toed stilettos
                                You saw it just the other day
                                And I blushed as I tried to pull my pant leg over the sore, but you knew (I think)

Oh, the puzzling urge I have to be made over by the brains of your outfits!
                                                So I can open a closet of conversation topics that would suit both of us just fine

I think
                                                I have shed 18 years of ideas in the past two weeks
                                                I starved myself until I could fit into the apparel of your approval
                                                Which I claw through my closets but still cannot find
                                                But I know that somewhere in my brain beneath an empty toilet paper roll or stuck on a dead branch of ideas is a match to your unbearable pattern-
              
Perhaps if I’d kept my opinions more alphabetized, I would’ve found it sooner
                Blast, my scattered brain that can’t seem to produce any fashion but faux pas for you
                Logic and emotion were never meant to mix like this- trust me, I know well
Give me a summer to rearrange myself, hmm?
                Or will I have no use of you then…

If only I’d started to realize sooner
We’d be peeling oranges and discussing the oldest styles of thought, you and I
                Beneath an umbrella in the rain
                                You wouldn’t be able to see that odd scab on my ankle
                                Because I would have the other lone argyle sock with the tag still attached that I hate-

I feel that perhaps
you are only unbearable because I wish you complimented me better, that perhaps the reason I’m starving myself of all reason is because I’d like nothing more than to openly say
that I hate you, my lone, little argyle sock
                                                but that is only
                                                because right now, I could never possibly hope to wear you
Jan 2013 · 6.9k
Unstable
Kate Lion Jan 2013
Stand over my heart like a flamingo
(I dislike sturdy traffic cones, anyway)
As you do so, peer into the well for the calculator I dropped
It's there somewhere
Lord, I hope you can fly
Because I can't help but push your stubborn form
Over the edge like this
Jan 2013 · 7.4k
Pearls
Kate Lion Jan 2013
Nobody clams up over the right things
Flecks of dirt won't make beautiful ever
But those enormous irritations you take with a grain of sand
I tuck those things away
For a long while
It is against my nature to do so
It is awkward to keep salty things on the tip of one's tongue
Without spitting them out
Oh, I long to swallow
How much longer must I be closed up, love?
Kate Lion Jan 2013
(i)

It’s wrong of me, I know
            To wait around for you to say extraordinary things, sweetheart.
                      
But there’s something so enticing about true love
                        Wrapped up in fancy scratch paper
                        With half the lines crossed out
                                                [Those are the best kind of things to say, you know
                                                            ­‘Cause it means I’ll spend hours smashing myself
                                                          ­  Between those lines
                                                           ­ Trying to fill in the blanks
                                                          ­  About who you love,
                                                           ­                         And why.
                                                … I miss knowing those things
                                                          ­                          Just a little.]    
            All tied together with the broken guitar strings
[Where now rest those hummingbird wings?]
You’d tune for me
                        Before anybody knew who you were
                                    And I was the only one who listened.

I miss the you I knew

            The one who told me I was beautiful,
                        All mismatched and clashed,
                        Because we were the brains of this outfit,
                      
And how were we to know that
                                    Dreams and reality
                                                Can’t ever
                                                Be worn together?
                        [At least, that’s what Mother would tell me
                                    When I asked to wear her fancy pearls to bed]

I remember the day before we were expected to grow up
            [The day before the sky turned inside out
            And suddenly
                        We were expected to know why it rained sometimes,
                        Were expected to expect pneumonia if we played in the puddles too long,
                                    Were expected to know black from white
To stay indoors and turn gray overnight.
Yes, the day before all of those expectations rose to meet us,]
We were expected to go to a gaudy dinner party
To boast about ourselves.
And everything we planned to become.
            But I hated heels, and you hated lies
            So I showed up in fuzzy bunny slippers with my hair done up nice, and you-
Well.
            You didn’t go.
                        There’s something about growing up you never took a liking to.

Everyone knew who you were by then.
And I sat alone as they talked about you
                        And all of the wonderful things you were becoming.
                        And I just nodded, picturing the boy I once knew
                                    Yes,
The boy that no one knew
                                    With dreams so big they encompassed the entire sidewalk in chalk
                                    Whenever we sat down to visualize the future
we never really thought would come
                      
                        There was never enough room for me to color mine
                        [So I simply signed my name
                                    All small
                                    In the corner
                                    Of that sidewalk gallery of hearts and hopes]
                        And that’s the way I wanted it
                        Because-
                        Well,­
I didn’t need a dream if I had you.


(ii)

It was too perfect, really.
Well, I was, I suppose.
Perfectly innocent.

I now see how illogical it is
To assume that a heart can simply be cut away from the chest,
And given.

For it is impossible to do so
[Truly]

No,
You got so much more than my heart, my love

From the ends of my eyelashes to my fingertips
All of me was yours

Yes,
From the frantic way my heart beat against my ribcage        
[Like a tiny hummingbird
            Wanting to burst free
To taste you with my entire soul
            Swallow you whole
            Not merely glean a teasing sample with my lips]

To the way it melted through my chest
And slid softly to my fingers
Resting in your palm
Yes,
When you placed your hand in mine
            I was clutching the reality I’d only ever dreamed of
            [My heart and I were a package deal- and you held both]
            Yes, it was the closest I’ve ever been to happiness

Oh, love…
I loved,
With every part of me,
I hope you know.

But I never considered that I did
Not really

Until that moment when you led me in my fuzzy bunny slippers to the chalky sidewalk
And silently erased my name from that corner
            Whispering you were sorry all the while.
            But we were all grown up now.

[That was the day I stood with my arms outstretched
Mouth gaping open
To catch the rain
As the sky turned inside out
Because, well.
I needed new dreams if I didn’t have you]

Tears filled my eyes, then
For I felt my heart fall out of my chest
[Yes, I thought such a thing was impossible
But I’d also
(Naively)
Thought it impossible for you to ever leave]
To rest
Forever
In your hands
[A final parting gift]

What pain filled that void!
            [I would blame it on pneumonia,
                        -For I stood in the puddles forever that day
                        Making mouthfuls of promises to that empty rain-
                        But I think we both know better
                        Than to expect a little sickness to bring pain such as this]
For I was left with nothing
And you
            [You
With a tiny hummingbird you didn’t even know what to do with
                        As it lay
                        Barely breathing
                        Barely beating
                        But doing both for you]
You still had everything

From the tears that dripped from my lashes
To the tips of my fingers that brushed them away

To that empty ribcage
            [With the bones gaping open
            So barren, but for a couple feathers
            That blew about when you whispered
                        (Hanging on to a hollow kind of hope)
But fell to the bottom of my stomach once it was clear
That you were never coming back
With my little hummingbird]
And that flat thump in my chest
[From the pendulum I secured in its stead
                        Marking each moment I spent without a true heartbeat
No frenzy of feathers
No
Just a hollow, rhythmic stupor
That fell over my soul]
That reminded me
I had
Nothing to love anymore.


(iii)

            Who knows how long I stood
                        Letting the draft in through the spaces between my ribcage
                        So raw and gaping
                        My soul an empty ocean
                        Waiting
                        Wai­ting for any kind of tide to pull me in
                                                              ­            fill me up
                                                              ­            bring me out again
            I got so cold, love
            Waiting for the wind to wash up something on the brittle beaches of my bones
          
            It took forever, it seemed
            For me to swallow that mouthful of rain you left me with that day
                        [How I wish I’d known sooner that’s all it would take]
            But when I did
            It washed that pendulum straight out
                        [Oh, and how that mouthful wetted the lips of my helpless spirit
                                    Till it was chugging words I’d never been able to find
                                                And that’s why I write
                                                About you
                                                And our love
                                                That is long lost somewhere
Lost in a somewhere only you’ve ever been to]
            Into the hands of someone who thought he’d found my soul.

And how I wish he hadn’t found the counterfeit
For he shined it so pretty and neat-like
            [Oh, that it had been real]
And secured it around his neck
            I never knew I had anything worth showing off
            No
            But he made me feel that I had

Oh, but how it all was very broken
For I was very out of order, see
            Nothing to give him
            Not really
            Nothing but permission for his eyelashes to flicker at me
            For him to brush me with his lips and the tips of his fingers
                        I never backed away soon enough
                        Always left red with regrets
                        Horrific actions I’ll never forget
            [Oh, Always
                        Always
                        The­ swing of the pendulum in the back of my mind
                        Whispering we were on borrowed time
                        Because none of me was really mine
                                                But did I listen?]

He’d tell me I was lovely all the day.

So how picturesque to think of me
Standing on his porch one day
            In my fuzzy bunny slippers
            With mother’s pearls around my neck
            Expecting him to tell me once again.
But that’s when it ended
            Just like I’d wanted
            ‘Cause he claimed I was deranged for double-dipping
            Dragging dreams into the daytime
And I smiled
            ‘Cause I knew that he was wrong.
                        [Yep, you always loved my plaid pajama pants
All mud stained from puddle jumping
From the days we expected nothing but rain for us to catch]


(iv)

How horribly addictive true love is!
            Do you not agree?

For I think we both should like to be gone from each other
Forever, if we could both stand to be away that long

But as long as I live
            I shall never find someone so perfect as you
            And your eyes are the tide that draws me in time after time
            So why should I cast you out, my love?
            Tell me to go away, the way you’ve never said.
            Give me a reason to leave.
For I can’t find one at all,
Except that I love you too much to be logical
                                                     to own up to reality

--It is a sad thought
            To think you might’ve plucked the feathers from my hummingbird
            And threaded them through those broken guitar strings you tuned for me
            To make a wind chime for your porch
                        [You’re the only one who ever listened to me, anyway]
For,
            Did I not see those fancy colors hanging by your door yesterday,
            The same shade as my eyes?
I do not wish to make assumptions,
            Stop me if I’m wrong.

For,
I already know it was so wrong of me
            To think it should’ve gone differently yesterday
                        When I laced up a corset to fill that gap in my chest
                                    Donned a dress with my mother’s fancy pearls
                                    Slipped heels onto my feet
                                    And fixed my hair nice and pretty for you
Oh, love
            How quickly I found you’ve forgotten

Because when you saw me standing there on your doorstep
            All perfect
            And real
            And neat
You handed me a piece of paper
And asked about my aspirations

I could do nothing but glance at the sidewalk, surprised,
Finding nothing but gray pavement.
            For you, my love,
            Are living your dreams now
            No need to chalk them up and wish.

But my hopes haven’t changed, love
I’ve yet to live the only dream I ever wanted

And how I wished to dazzle you by saying extraordinary things
            All wrapped up in this fancy piece of scratch paper
            With half the lines crossed out
            But I don’t think you appreciate it like you used to

And how I wished to tell you that my dream could be found in the chalk dust
Still stuck to the bottoms of my fuzzy bunny slippers
I used to wear
With my mother’s fancy pearls
Until yesterday

When I tried to match everything up evenly
            And we stood on your porch
            With no one to hear us but the wind chime
                        [The feathers holding it together
                                    Just hanging on your every breath
                                                And swaying to a hollow sort of hope]
As you whispered.

You told me I was beautiful.

            And I went home and cried.
Jan 2013 · 270
if i must
Kate Lion Jan 2013
so
maybe i've spent all night cementing myself between words

i've never felt freer in my life
Jan 2013 · 536
Reflections
Kate Lion Jan 2013
The sun sported a brilliant shade of pink eye as she rose this morning
I wondered what had happened to her on the other side of the mountain last night, for her to awake as grouchy as this
I wondered if, perhaps, the moon had been kicked in her face
Wondered if the smoky sky had reached her nostrils as she slept, if she wept when she realized how long the moisture's been kept
But mostly, I wondered how she could be so irritated at the sight of me
Staring me down as she swelled with some awful infection
That had spread to the puffy tissue surrounding one veined eyelid
Well, I looked right back
Daring her to send me back inside to those promising shadows beneath my dinosaur blanket in bed
It all seemed much more inviting than this
At 6:30 in the morning, no less
Why, with her so uncharacteristically red in the face
Would anyone want to be around such a ginormous ball of sunshine when they first awake?
Jan 2013 · 607
Stop.
Kate Lion Jan 2013
My eyes glow like green exit signs, and that's what

Shows you it's my time

To go... go... GO!

But the time you throw to me is scrapp'd from your trash, and now's when I crash, because I'm tired of you telling me not to eat the meat you made from scratch, that you gave to me so many years back, claiming I'll get sick from that.

And I've tried doing everything...

So I would know how to grow

                    Up,

           Up,

UP.

But you clip my wings and stuff me in a high chair

To spoon-feed me your suggestions like strained peas.

And I hate you for it.

Because after making me lick the spoon,

I'm hemiliched too,

You, asking why I swallowed at all.

I've tried pleasing you, appeasing you, and I've squeezed my creative juices until they taste true to YOU.

And the fruit tree that bears art inside me,

Is tired of the fact that no one's tried me,

And tangibly touched their tongue to all the flavors that I savor in my head.

...

My own body would treat my work like foreign substance,

Attacking the words it harbored once,

Because I hate coming up with a million

Different ways to say I hate you,

But I do,

And the juice from my pen drips bitter ink

As I write the truth.

You took me as a cherry, ****** and spit the pit right out of me,

Then told me you'd never be happy till I grew a cherry tree.

...

I was willing to **** through my thoughts for weeks to find the needed seed...

But it was gone.

And my eyes glow green as I cry chlorophyll dreams

That have nowhere to go,

And no one that needs them.

Like no one needs me.

And you've made it perfectly clear about

My ways

and

Highways,

And you like highways better with no red lights,

No green eyes,

That can shut and shout out

STOP!
Jan 2013 · 449
USED: 25 cents
Kate Lion Jan 2013
You cut the cords of your most common cliche,
[Because you are the puppet master of my fate]
Because I'm too obvious,
So easy to use,
With the flick of your hands I'd clap for you.

You watched me clatter to the floor in a crumpled heap
[For the last time]
Listened for the sickly beautiful sound
Of my wooden smile splitting
Into a chipped and broken grin.

[And for the first time]

Saying "I love you" isn't enough anymore.

[I don't even know that I'm hurting]
Jan 2013 · 499
Juicing
Kate Lion Jan 2013
Once the hum stops, I’ll take the mold from your belly button

                        And knit me a droopy pair of bunny ears

                        I’ll wear on my heart to make it throb again

                        Because you always have such rotten things to say

                        But I’m so buzzed, I can’t hear them

                                    So I will bug your rancid body soon

                        And I will memorize every souring flavor in my condensed milk

                        As I tap into a clearer signal



                        But our pulse will stop before the flies drop

                        Like all the fruitless calls I make to you

                                    Their driveling buzz doesn’t thrill like before, so



I’ve peeled back the skin from my fuzzy navel

                        And looped it into a noose

                        We wear around our sappy necks to keep our heads

                        Because I’ve told you we’ve gotten too heavy

                        But you’re too hung over to reach

                                    So we will ferment from the stem now

                        And concentrate [on] ourselves to a pulp

                                    And no one will be there to hear us congeal



Because our oozing flesh will rot beneath these buzzing ear muffs

                        Till the dregs drop like flies to our grave
Jan 2013 · 1.5k
My Favorite Season
Kate Lion Jan 2013
You pulled away my pinky toe

Rolled it like a cigar in your fingers

Daring me to love you



I almost lost my balance then

But I don’t suppose you noticed

I watched it sniff at the smoke in your hand

And I’m quite glad you didn’t give my balance one dog biscuit of your attention

For it quickly ran back to my widespread, flailing arms and licked my beaming face as I listened to your lack-of-depth discussion

I know butterfly band-aids sound *****

And stitches sound weak

So I don’t really blame you all that much for simply puffing up peppery, gray clouds that stung my open wound as you exhaled,

Speaking to no one, instead.



I had, I believe

A peppermint stick I had to use after that, to keep me all upright

[You told me once it smelled of feet

But I don’t think you knew what it was there for]

I never complained about it,

‘Cause I knew you were happy

Smoking my joint and talking to no one

But I knew how much you wanted that peppermint stick as well

So I wrapped it up in a hug one autumn morning,

And as we embraced

[again] there was a whispered dare to love you

By the time we broke away, it was December and our hands were growing cold, yours going numb around the peppermint stripes

And though I’d tried so long to prevent it

I fall anyway that winter

As soon as you walked away with more of my balance to steady you



I was very out of place



I suppose that is why winter is my favorite season

Nothing falls that is winter

Nothing moves that is frozen,

Including your fingers

That I can pretend were too rigid to close around my hand, since they were always wrapped around that peppermint stick so cold, their tips turned blue

But you knew that was my favorite color

And you only like dressing open wounds

So you never paid your bare hands that much attention



We made a snowman that season

There was no fire to be found except that tingling in the small of my back when our lips meet,

So I offered my two favorite bones in my spine as coal for the eyes

I winced as you pulled them out with your bare hands

But I didn’t complain, ‘cause I noticed that the pieces were so hot that your fingertips weren’t so blue anymore,

And that made me happy, though I had to walk much more carefully after that

I knew I’d long since lost my balance

There was no kindling to be found, neither

So you reached for the peppermint stick that we

Split

Down the middle

To serve as our snowman’s arms



We laughed when we realized his hands smelled like feet

But it subsided when you asked

If I loved you



I sat down quickly

Your question was too heavy and caught me off balance

And that is never a good place to be caught

When one has a pinky toe, a peppermint stick, and two spine bones missing

I remember you left suddenly after that

And as soon as you’d gone, I wanted to chase you

But I was finding it difficult to stand

So I looked up at our snowman’s beaming face

And pulled his right arm right out

But it was too thin and broke under my weight



And as I collapsed to the frozen ground for the last time

I wondered how he could be so upright and balanced with an appendage missing

And I wish I’d told you sooner

That as humans

We are constantly falling

But we use the joints of our toes and the muscles in our backs

To keep from doing so.



I had always loved you.
Jan 2013 · 797
[insert name here]
Kate Lion Jan 2013
You are salt and vinegar chips
Despicable and addicting
Hot chocolate that scalds the roof of my mouth
But I continue to crave the taste
Because those cute mini marshmallows soothe the burn as I swallow
Oddly charming
Kate Lion Jan 2013
Early to rise just brought frogs to our throats

We spat them out along the perfect cobblestones lining the sidewalk

And watched the thin, old ladies clutch their pocketbooks closer to their chest as they skittishly sidestepped to avoid squashing them beneath those perfectly pointed heels



We laughed and laughed at their doings

Until the frogs were cleared out

And we realized then that we hadn’t made plans for the rest of the afternoon



Well, we followed those cobblestones until they gave way into tiny pebbles at the end of the road

That is where you first took a funnel to my heart

Beneath our favorite tree

Emptying the juicy trills from the beaks of the mockingbirds

That will never taste the same in my ears again
Jan 2013 · 7.0k
ungrateful naivety (perhaps)
Kate Lion Jan 2013
Because he was the robin, see
I built him a birdhouse made of the fingernails I chipped from every time I was forced to button up my own flannel shirt
It was quite silly and awkward-looking
So it didn't bother me when he didn't want to live there
It would take a lot of fake smiles and wooden blinds to tolerate a habitation such as the one I constructed for him
So it didn't bother me when he didn't want to live there

When he told me he was making a nest I took a paring knife from the kitchen drawer
When he told me he was making a nest I gave him 10 inches of weave to (through) the twigs
When he told me there were lots of split ends and varied shades
I wasn't too hurt because it was true

And I knew he would use twisty ties from bread bags instead
Which were much more practical than 10 inches of lover's hair
I just couldn't understand why he didn't give it back

He misplaced it, he said
How can you misplace something I had (longed) for him
Jan 2013 · 482
my proposal
Kate Lion Jan 2013
if you deemed me worthy
i would kiss you to wake with the colors of your favorite moments every morning
painting the scene with the brightest berries I could find across your bedspread

if you deemed me worthy
i would thumb through the sticky notes you keep on your forehead
pulling the ones you write in your sleep
because you are your own worst critic
and i don't want you to feel the need to look in the mirror
just to read your thoughts
(i know that you're a lot deeper than that)

but
i simply wish-
to be the spare key to your heart, sir
i know so many other things in your life come first
but i would feel like a diadem if i could be the extra set hanging by a rusty nail on your wall

because i simply wish-
to be a witness
(of the beautiful life you create for yourself)
Jan 2013 · 1.2k
that night
Kate Lion Jan 2013
you were never one for saying much
but you pointed out the moon in her faded yellow wedding dress
her veil covering all
but a thin
crooked
smile
across her face
Jan 2013 · 485
Me Logic
Kate Lion Jan 2013
I would very much like responses to the questions dragged out of my soul when I listen to music
Like why people don't get married if they are in love
Must we all be logical like that
And wait for things to line up the way they do on notebook paper
Before signing a legally binding contract
It breaks me into pieces, the wondering
Hitting myself on the skull over and over
When it's my heart that needs the talking to
Because some things aren't as beautiful when you take that perspective away
No, when my heart is dragged out of me like that
And beaten to death as people tell me why he isn't worth it
Well, it works for a moment
But.. It doesn't work
It just doesn't work like that
Tell me:
why is the music written to stencil his footsteps; the very way he moves?
Tell me:
why are the notes plucked to follow the rhythm of his eyelashes when he averts my gaze?
Because we all know
Logic cannot give me an answer to all that
Jan 2013 · 522
Painting Kate
Kate Lion Jan 2013
Oh, but don't wipe the stains off the kitchen walls yet
I want to read them like braille
See if I can remember them all when they were children
Sticky fingers reaching for my hair when my hands were preoccupied
Chocolate covered faces that kissed my cheeks when my lips were forming words much harsher than "I love you"
Don't you remember, dear
I never wanted those moments to skip rope out the back door
Slamming the screen door shut behind them
I've hit it so many times trying to find the children again
Just realized today that that door is closed; I'll never follow them out into the yard again
Never going back
Never going back
Smashed into the **** carpet of my bedroom
Is a sour patch kid from years ago
I suppose I could've peeled it from the decor if I'd tried sooner
But I loved you
I loved the way you left pieces of yourself lying around for me to find
Jan 2013 · 929
Bubbles
Kate Lion Jan 2013
Must all beautiful moments
Di appear like th s?
Bef re I ev n          .
Jan 2013 · 358
Ruined
Kate Lion Jan 2013
Sir

            In my hand is the only reason I need to live

                        [I have so many more

                        But if they all escaped through air holes in the jar on my desk

                                                            Then he would be enough]



Sir

            There’s a sparrow in my hand

                        [Broken

                                    Trembling

                                                Still alive?]



It’s my saddest thought, sir

            But this sparrow would’ve stayed

                        [He told me so]

            But I clutched it so hard I broke his legs

                        [And you tell me all I do is hurt]

                                    Hurt

                                                Hurt

                                                            Him



But I don’t

            I love him

                        See



My broken fingers

            [From my pathetic attempt to be the lopsided branches

                                    He was so happy sitting in]

And you tell me all he wanted was to hold my hand

                        [Sometimes]



My chapped lips

            [From trying to lift his wings with my breath

                                    So he could lose himself in flight again]

And you tell me all he wanted was to kiss me

                        Take my breath away

                                    [Sometimes]





Sir

            Will he

                        [Kiss me

                                    Hold my hand

                                                And stay]

            Ever walk again?
Jan 2013 · 4.1k
Heart Failure
Kate Lion Jan 2013
I can’t stand that I can’t understand
Why my heart heaved its contents into your content hands,
Tearstains dripping through my fingers as we [danced].
I remember the days I’d [collapse] in crowded streets,
Because my heart would [skip] too many beats.
Then you’d [spin me], kiss my cheeks and whisper
Something sweet about my [feet’s] defeat.
But I knew then that I couldn’t [keep rhythm],
So I must’ve suffered from heart failure.

And once you left in October, and my soul was sober
Not drunk on my tears,
I would wonder what could’ve persuaded you to stay,
But once my heart attempted a [pirouette]
I no longer questioned my place.
.. I don’t know if you watched after that,
But I’m sure you saw the {snowprints} I’d leave in your yard,
My only way of telling you that I hated being my own {saving grace},
Because a {fallen angel} drops too hard.

But icicles hung from your eyelids that winter,
And splintered your vision.
Looking back, I believe you cried as much as I did,
And the tears froze across your eyes.
Because you never looked me in the eye as our minds ran to pieces
As we raced to find peace with ourselves.

You spun me for a loop,
My skull kissing paintball splattered remains of my left and right brain
As they bled all over themselves,
Knocking my sanity off of the shelves
In an attempt to explain whether love is history,
Or chemistry,
And I didn’t want to ponder the prospects
So paper was my band-aid fix all.
I wrapped my mind around it,
Concealed my soul beneath my words,
Until I was my own mummified form,
Too afraid to rip them off.
Because what if nothing had healed at all?
I rotted beneath my façade.
My smiley face band-aids the only hands of happiness that hugged me for
Months,
And I
Sunk
Into depression,
Not unlike this current recession,
Not knowing where my silver lining would be;
Wondering if it would come only when withered lines worked their way across my cheeks,
A gray hairline visible in the sun,
As proof my time had come,
To be happy.

But something better came sooner with the rains of May,
And a new boy painted smiles back onto my face.
Removing the bandages that had bruised my body,
And punctured the skin of my poetry.
So I was free to bleed again,
With fresh pieces to breathe in.

Was it happiness, or freedom that flushed my cheeks?
Or was it the uncomfortable spider that would weave my stomach in knots
As another part of me was lost
To the boy who painted my peace
For a price?

I didn’t mean to hand so much to him, love,
But a measure of pleasure came with a cost,
And at some point my beliefs were tossed to scatter in the wind,
And the spider of guilt in my stomach sunk its teeth right in,
Sadness seeping through my veins,
The venom of regret.

Because you were the only one who ever held all of me and none of me at the same time,
Who never asked for what I claimed to be mine.
All of me was yours,
Even the things you never asked for
Were stamped with your name for a future date.
But mail gets intercepted sometimes,
And my contents were spread
Before someone I hardly knew
And I-
Missed-
You…

Because you never asked for too much to touch or too much of my love
I loved you the only way I was able to.
And now…
I’m just a tainted tin can on the side of the street.
And I know you don’t have use for me,
But I’ll do my best to undo the dents of my past.
All I know is that yesterday you told me you hate it when I don’t say what’s on my mind.
But my tongue was a sponge that soaked up the ways that I’ve wanted to say
That I’m sorry.

And I’ve skipped my own beats for a year and a half,
Letting my turn to tell you I yearn for you pass
Right over
In an endless drum roll.
But-
I feel a –rhythmic- rattle-
In my –beaten-aluminum-body
As your footsteps
[Stop].
Please.
Don’t let me suffer for my heart failure.
Jan 2013 · 1.8k
All That I'm Trying to Say
Kate Lion Jan 2013
A decade from now,
            My words will only be a carcass even birds won’t want
            To pick at anymore.

I won’t be able to keep track of where my similes skip off to,
And maybe I’ll discover later that they crossed the street like a chicken
That wouldn’t know to look both ways,
Causing a six car pileup,
But never making it to the other side of the road as I intended them to.

Maybe my metaphors will age quickly,
            And ten years down the road
            Their doggy jowls will quiver with one last yawning breath
            As they collapse beneath the nearest tree from hip failure
            Resting at last beneath a pleasant summer sun.

I don’t like to think about it,
But I’ve entertained the idea
That perhaps I will neglect my words,
            Letting all the quatrains pass me by.

Yes, that is how my structured sentences will meet their end:
            With no periods
            But a blank space
                        Where your name should be.

I’d like to think that someday
            I won’t have this horrible need to write anymore
I’ll describe my perfect days because I want to,
Not to fill this void I made
When I handed out my consonance like candy
            And scattered similes in the air like skittles
            During that drought we had a while ago
When everything was black and white
And I thought everybody wanted
A taste of the colors I’m made of.

I like to entertain the thought that someday

Someday
            People are going to reach back through the decades and excavate my words
            And try to find deep meanings beneath all my poetry.
            Scholars will slit the throats of my similes,
            Claiming there was some philosophical point pumping through the jugular,
            And I might laugh somberly [a little] if they do.

            They’re going to find the rotted carcasses in the most random of places:
            A passenger seat,
            The floor by a bathroom,
            A stairwell,
            Under a tree.

I know that some might try to find the cause of death.
In fact,
I know they will.

But I’d much rather people look for the only reason of birth,
The only meaning behind all my metaphors,
I want these people to catch the quatrains I let pass me by when it hurt too much.

When it hurt too much
To just write-

I love you.
Jan 2013 · 732
My Biggest Fear
Kate Lion Jan 2013
Sometimes, I want to beat you over the head with a hobo.

                                Or those ridiculous kiosk ladies at the mall.

                                                          ­      Eighteen times.

Sometimes, I want to stuff you into a bottle and watch you ferment in failure for a while.

                                Until the scent of success is gone from you,

                                And you no longer have girls pawing at your throat like the K-9 Unit, hot on the trail of bombs or drugs

                                Or at least until I have an idea of whether I’d really want to see you like that,

                                And trust me,

                                                If I saw you more often,

                                                         ­                       I’d try all of these things,

I’d take your biggest fears and sprinkle your mashed potatoes with them, and serve me up on a silver platter, ‘cause I know I’m the last thing you’d ever want, and seeing you get the wrong order for once would do wonders for my digestion.

                                But I never see you long enough to cook dinner anymore,

                                                And you’d prefer sprinkling airplane food with lighter conversation anyways

                                For reasons only I know



Remember the conversation we had a couple weeks ago?

-          The one that made me realize that I hate the idea of free samples and dates, because all guys seem to want these days is a Big Mac; heavy on the petting and light on commitment-

I quoted Shakespeare, for crying out loud!  And you-

You just sat there, and it was there in your car that I realized you prefer your “I love you’s” medium-rare; I don’t think you understand how raw I am despite that fact, or the conversation wouldn’t have grown cold and mushy like it did.  Picking at it with our forks until the meat went dry, I almost wish you had kissed me an 18th time, because-

                                I had leftovers yesterday, love.

                                I spooned him up on the couch, and we let our lips brush like melted butter 18 times as we spoke to each other, and we didn’t want to stop talking, because then we’d have to accept that we were kissing on purpose.

                                Oh, how I wish I’d quoted Shakespeare to him then! Because

                                Eventually, the words stopped coming, but our lips were still moving, and we had to accept that our kisses were stale and crusty, we choked on our re-heated passion.

                                Don’t be mad yet, love.

                                                It might be slightly comforting to know that this time he undid my necklace instead of a bra strap, and I felt protected in his arms, like I’d never suffer from food poisoning again, but I feel you’ll be mad, anyway; but you shouldn’t know for sure if my words make you angry yet.

                                Oh…

I wish I’d told you my biggest fear as you were explaining your own a couple weeks ago.

                                I heard once, that you have to try something 18 times before you really know how you like it, and I know all this probably doesn’t taste like chicken, so before I get too far ahead of myself, go on a love binge, swallow this whole 17 more times-

                                                         ­                                       And get back to me.
Jan 2013 · 329
For my Sister
Kate Lion Jan 2013
“I wish you could see yourself through God’s eyes

          And oh, darling, don’t think I wouldn’t lend you mine to look through

                   [I feel that no one can appreciate a beautiful thing like you

                             Like I do

                   And how I wish that I could change them, like they want to change you]

          But I’m so far from perfect, see

                   [My vision blurred as I cried with you

                               Though I really wished it wouldn’t

                    Because I feel I wasn’t really any help at all

                       (Your hand, I see as you rub your eyes

                                                      Is awful bigger than mine)]

          I know that coming from someone as despicable and worthless as me

                   [I tried to take the rust off the nickels in my pocket with those tears

I should’ve bottled them, instead

The cries of a tender soul are worth more than all the silver I could dream of]

          It’s not as wonderful

                   [I’d like you to know, dear-

I remember, I think, that I heard once

(The size of a heart is shown by the size of a fist)]

                             As speaking with and knowing the being who created the worlds-

                                       [Dear, He thinks the world of you].”
Jan 2013 · 686
Outside Theory
Kate Lion Jan 2013
I’ll have you know that I only dream in purple now
            And that the only flowers I can smell are yellow roses
            That leave my eyes wondering why the daylight went out
                                                            Why the rays went dry and cracked across the petals
                                                            Why it isn’t special anymore

I’ll have you know that I took an Alka-Seltzer tablet for my heartburn
            And that the knot in my stomach is so large now
            I don’t remember if I’m tongue-tied or not
            There is too much to speak of
So I’m quiet now
Trying to swallow the orange juice you gave me when I’d just finished brushing my teeth

I’ll have you know that my eyes crinkle when I am happy
            Especially when the sky is so bright that even your smile can’t outshine it
And I know you dislike how ugly I look when I grin like that
            So I’ve been trying so very hard lately to crinkle my potato chips instead
                        To save for the night when we’re finally outside
                        Alone with the Moon as our chaperone
                        He, there to make sure that I wouldn’t shine brighter than him
                                    The Moon is jealous in that way, I think
                        And if I wore yellow like you’d like me to
                                    He’d retreat behind the clouds and blush
                                    Because he remembers the way the sun used to dance like that
                                    And he would miss her a little, I think

But anyways,
            I’m saving the crinkled potato chips cooked in sunflower oil just for you
            In the pockets of my very simple sundress
            For that night when we’re finally outside

And I’d toss them at you in the moment I was happiest,
I’d look most beautiful then
And those are my least favorite kind

Knowing they’d bounced off your shoulder would make them taste lovelier, somehow
            So I’d eat the whole bag as a midnight snack
            Dancing by the light of your smile with my arms outstretched
            Inviting the Man in the Moon to lick the salt from my fingers…

And when he wouldn’t
            Well
                        I’d notice, then
                        I’d gaze into the sockets of his pock-marked face
Feeling quite foolish and child-like
                        Staring blankly at my own crinkled, chipped hands
And trying so very hard not to weep
                        I’d retreat and rest my cheek against your neck
Asking very quietly who cut out his tongue
                        And how long the wolf has howled for him

My shallow breathing would crack your eardrums
                        But at least I would know you were listening
At least you would finally understand
That the sunflower petals were shriveling up in your hands
                        And if you tossed them at me, they would be fuller, somehow
                                   And yellow again just for you

I’ll have you know that I can’t remember my favorite things anymore
                        And though I’ve squeezed my short-term memory so hard it’s cracked down the middle,
                        I’ll never remember why the only flowers I like are white roses
                        Or why you consistently make my dreams taste purple and frothy
                        Like a swelling tongue that puts my stomach in knots that even Alka-Seltzer won’t
dissolve

I’ll have you know that I’ve awoken so many times
To wring the neck of a withering image,
That I’m gagging on the thorns I never noticed in my sundress pockets
Mixed with those crinkled potato chips I’ve been crushing to toss at you
            In the moment that I am most happiest
            And we find ourselves outside of the dream
                                                That I never want to live
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