these nights are the nights
that I wish I had:

a cup of coffee
a view of the stars
a comfy blanket
a knitted sweater
a sleeping kitten

things that you savor
things that give live flavor
things that you live for
things that you love for

things that will whisper
in your ear to say

"today was bad,
but tomorrow will be better"

sure, I don't have
a cup of coffee

and I can't see
the stars from my window

my blanket is rough

and I don't own a sweater.

...

I'm allergic to kittens.

but I know you're out there
and one day
you'll whisper in my ear

"today was bad,
but tomorrow will be better"

10:00 A.M.
Battery: 100%

12:00 P.M.
Battery: 80%

2:00 P.M.
Battery: 67%

4:00 P.M.
Battery: 45%

6:00 P.M.
Battery: 30%

8:00 P.M.
Battery: 10%

10:00 P.M.
Battery: 0%

10:03 P.M.
Notification: You have one unread message:
from Andrea

"i love you ♥"

10:03 P.M.
...
Battery: 100%

is poetry really something you think about

like, can this be considered poetry?
me, here

sitting at a computer screen
typing words ever so

conversationally

this reads less like a poem
and more like a speech
or perhaps, like a friend
telling you their day over coffee
and I bet right now you can smell the roasted beans
the air, thick with the smell of caffeine, whipped cream,
possibly a cigar or two

and you hear the voice of your best friend
who's telling you about their day

how they had it rough that day
Ben from accounting really knew how to ruin a day, let me tell you
or perhaps,
someone just spilled coffee all over their notes while they were studying

and as much as fifty apologies can mend a relationship,
fifty apologies can't dry up your english notes

can we really consider this kind of stuff poetry?
it's completely free-form
against the norm,
little to no rhyme or structure
no substance whatsoever

just a mindless person rambling about things that seem ever so slightly relatable

is this really poetry?

probably not.

The letter you wrote, it’s filled with you.
The letters of your eyes, the words of your lips.
I can feel your hands in these O’s and A’s,
the softness of your paper skin.
In this, did you ink out your soul,
you had dotted the I-love-you,
and crossed over to a tight embrace.
My eyes run again, and again,
Sprinting from line to line.
“This is you,” I exclaim, “you and only you.”
A lover I can tuck away into an envelope, and carry in my breast pocket,
A lover I can sit with at a table for one.
This, you have given me,
You, yourself, your whole.
Head to toe inscribed on thin paper leaves.
A gift it was, but bittersweet,
For a feeling so pure, I never have known,
but I cannot hold these words in my arms.

THE TITLE OF THIS POEM IS AT THE END.

I feel a fever coming on
Intense heat from my forehead
I'm sweating even though
it's 20 degrees outside
My hands are clammy
My skin is pricked
by a million needles
I want to throw up
I can barely stand
My stomach hurts,
and I feel cold and hot
I'm shaking, trembling
all over.
I can barely move
my lips to speak.
I'm dizzy.
Every bone in my body
aches with the pain
of a million paper cuts.
My heart beats irregularly
slow, fast, slow, fast
I think I might faint.


I went to the doctor.

Turns out,
there's no medicine
for lovesickness.

in my closet,
I have a torn jacket
two holes in its pocket
a rip in its hood, and
a broken zipper

patches, and stickers
stains of liquor
from when i drinked
so that I wouldn't miss her

I haven't thrown it
it's precious, for some reason
to throw it away
would, to my heart, be treason

I wore it when we met
on that cold autumn night
when the freezing wind swept
the leaves to our left and right
a scene from a movie
or a novel, perhaps
I look back and I tremble
I faint, I collapse
my mind goes numb
stuck in the memory
of that autumn night of fate

I gained myself, but I lost myself
when I put my jacket in her hands

11:43 P.M.

u know
never
in my wildest dreams

would i have thought that
i would meet someone
like u
lucky me, right?

you're such a great person
one that i aspire to be like
u are amazing i s2g!!!

God exists, bc he made someone
outrageously beautiful

only, I wish
u knew my
thoughts and feelings and stuff

weirdly (i think)
I think about u a lot
totally weird, right???
how or why idk tbh

me, idk why
either

seen 11:43 P.M.

[redacted] is typing...