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Payton Hayes Feb 2021
I kept the roses you gave me
on our first Valentine’s day
Even though they’re dried out now
and crumbling away
Somehow they smell even sweeter
even after all this time
And every whiff reminds me, I’m still
yours and you’re still mine.
This poem was written in 2018.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
Oh how bittersweet a moment such as this is, knowing never again
will I lay my lips on yours, cup my hand in your hand and wrap myself in your arms, only because you said, somehow from this
we can both be happy.

I do not understand, I will never understand.

I only said that if you were unhappy, I wouldn’t make you stay.

You must let go of that which you love, for keeping it and loving it will not make it love you in return.

I suppose sacrifices such as these are humbling.

They hurt, but remind me I am still human.
This poem was written in 2018.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
There is some kind of sadness in my heart when I hear this one song. It just comes alive and dances with the melancholy notes.
I do not know where it comes from, only that it is a part of me, and I’ll carry it with my always, even if I am to hear the same song each day.
I’ve learned to embrace every part of myself, the light and dark parts, the happy and sad, and if I am to spend equal time in happiness and sadness, then **** it, I will at least learn how to harmonize with it.
This poem was written in 2017.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
Tell me, what is it like,
to crooked-roll the dice, to
always get snake-eyes, to keep
slipping on  ice?

Tell me why he talks, tell
me why he walks, the
way he does, like he's barefoot
on the coals.
He's barefoot on the rocks.

All those dice sit in your cup.
"C'mon girl, just fill 'er up."

And tell me why he laughs
at all those broken hands,
          and broken hearts,
      and palms of sand,
and crooked dice,
that fell, through
cracks, and on the lines,
out of their hands, into your eyes.

You said, "Sometimes, I see better,
when the sand up here is wetter. That girl
tried to take the gritty pain away —I didn't let her."

"The sand I put there, in her eyes," he said, "reminded her
of all her lies, and I never did forget her."
This dream poem was written in 2016.
Honestly, I don't even remember the dream this was based on, but it has a neat rhythm!
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
Your sapphire eyes rival the deep
morning sky, the abyssal depths
and the richest royal blue ever
hewn from the earth.

When I look into your eyes,
I see a sapphire sea, a sapphire
sky I could get lost in for years
if only, you’d let me.
This poem was written in 2018.
Sea
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
Sea
He stared down
                into the dark, twisting waves, as if
a voice spoke to him from
                                                         the watery depths
                             below.

                                            It seemed to pull him in and
                                                                                              pool in him.
It swam circles
          in his curiosity.

The Sun stabbed at the waves, washing rainbows     over
glimmering abalone.
                Translucent bubbles danced
in its light.
Fishbones lay quietly on the ocean floor, forgotten.
                                                                                   Starfish whispered to him, tales
of how they had lost their arms to the
                      creatures that walk in the sun.

                                                        Urchins complained about the oil pooling in their waters.
Sharks gave him the silent treatment.
And despite the fact that he too had legs and walked in the sunlight,

                               he knew he was not made for the sun,
                      but for the sea.
                                                            And the waves whispered his name with
salt and foam.
This poem was written in 2016.
"Sea" was published in Rose State College's Pegasus 2016.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
Your eyes are like the ocean, that blue a vast, limitless expanse.
Dark and twisting as thoughts are pulled beneath the tide.
Eyes so blue that I could become lost in them forever, if only you'd let me.
This poem was written in 2017.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
In all my years,  I've heard only a handful of people say, "What doesn't **** you makes you stronger."

It might be because it's only half true.

It might be better to say, “What doesn't **** you makes you harder."

What doesn't **** you makes you harder:
-to tear down
-to betray
-to lie to
-to leave
-to forget

But it's a two-sided coin.

What doesn't **** you makes you harder:
-to get to know
-to trust
-to understand
-to get close to
-to remember

Don't be a wall, be a sea, for walls can be torn down, by raindrops alone,  and water is the strongest force on earth, yet gentle to the touch.
This poem was written in 2018.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
Sometimes I sit seaside
and think about you.
I think about the warm,
sun-kissed sand clinging to
my skin, and how much
warmer I’d be if it was you
instead of the sand.

Sometimes I sit seaside
and I think about you.
I think about the cool
breeze and how it tangles
my hair, slightly, and how
I’d rather it be you
leaving knots there
instead of my
heart.

Sometimes I sit seaside,
and I think about you.
I think about the smell
of the beach and it always
smells like you, saltwater
and sunscreen, and how
I’d give anything
to keep that scent in
a jar, in a candle,
just so I can be
reminded of you
even when I’m not
seaside.
This poem was written in 2018.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
The moon poured over the
       moors
                     and the night-birds
howled                through the wind.
The stars shuddered in their
midnight sky                  and whispered his
name amongst themselves.

He could do nothing but swallow
his tears in her memory.
This poem was written in 2016. It is inspired by Sebastian James Fairfax from Gillian Shield's Immortal series.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
I sat at the corner of my bed awaiting your reply.

The phone buzzed and as I looked down at it, a second wave of love washed over me.

I never understood why a dorky text message from you could trigger such a thing, but it did and what a sensation it was.

It wasn’t even a phone call or a voice mail, I hadn’t even heard the sound of your voice in my ears, but I’ve fallen in love with you
once more.
This poem was written in 2017.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
I ask your advice time and time and time again because one day, I intend to tell you how I feel for you.
My dear, you are so wonderfully oblivious, that when I tell you my secret it will be that much more unexpected.
You offer wise counsel as if you know you haven’t got a shot in hell with me.
All along, it was you, my love.
It was always you.
This poem was written in 2017.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
He sat at the edge of the Earth, and night after night, the moon told
secrets to his mocking blue eyes, secrets that no one else could ever, ever begin to understand.
This isn't really a poem. It's more of a pretty thought or piece of pretty prose. It was written in 2016.
Payton Hayes Mar 2021
you don't have to
love yourself
everyone says to,

that you can't really
love someone completely
if you don't love yourself

the truth is, you just have
to accept yourself and say

it might get better,
it might not, but I'll
stick around anyways
This poem was written in 2019.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
I never expected there to come so
much work with a breakup, but now, I
have all these things to dispose of
and all these memories to forget about.
I must patch the hole in my heart.
I must fix the calendar where it
says September 12th and I must figure
out something to do that day since there
is no anniversary without
you.
This poem was written in 2018.
Payton Hayes Mar 2021
Set me on fire
my body will be the kindling,
my soul will be the flame.

how could you not know that
you’d be the oxygen, for fire
or flesh, I cannot breathe
without you.
This poem was written in 2019.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
I wasn’t gluttonous, but for you, ravenous.
It was always lust, never true love.
You gave everything, I was greedy, still.
It wasn’t something for others to envy.
I took pride knowing you were mine.
How could I know that being a sloth,
I’d lose you to my heart’s wrath.
This poem was written in 2018.
Payton Hayes Jun 2018
I remember driving down the sun-baked
city street, on a mission to find
something, somewhere, which
now I cannot remember.
But I do remember this: you pulled
the truck aside and said, “Go grab some of
those pods off those trees.”
When I protested you simply gestured
for me to get going.
To this day, I still have mimosa and catalpa beans
stashed away in an old cigar box, silk trees
waiting to be planted in the
rich, dark earth.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
Imagine, I am sitting
at the piano.
Imagine, you come to sit
beside me-to join me.
And while I am playing,  out of the corner
of my eye, I see the twinkle
in yours. The longing in your eyes,
because I caress the keys of the piano
so softly, and you hope, that
I might, one day, do the same
to
you.
But I am no more than a simple musician.
So imagine this, I can play the piano,
but    I could
          make you
                    sing.
This poem was written in 2016.
Payton Hayes Mar 2021
Siren, sorcerer, seductress of my soul
Vampire of verve, temptress of thirst tantalizing,
captivating, enthralling me through craving
Wrenching away transmogrified desire exposing
a colossal and cavernous aching

Licentious liquors and provocative potions
Ethereal and corporeal hexthralling mixtures
Alluring, ensnaring, inviting concoctions  
Tempting with tinctures, enticing elixirs
Banquet of seduction and tonic of attraction
She is the enchanted device of my own unmaking
This poem was written in 2020.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
Darling, do not tell me that you are more beautiful with those drawings on your skin.
You've convinced yourself that they mean so much to you, and no one can even begin to understand, but I want you to know that the real beauty of an individual is more than simply skin deep.
That is why the ink on your skin does not impress me.
Everyone has stories and scars —I just choose not to wear mine on the outside.
This poem was written in 2016.
Disclaimer: I love tattoos and scars. I have some of my own. :)
Payton Hayes Jun 2018
Before I go, let me pour this
over your head
it is not the skin or the bones
or the rushing hot blood beneath,
it is not the eyes or the hair
or the makeup,
it is not the clothing and it is not
even the way her footsteps fall
on the pavement
that makes her beautiful,
it never has been
and it never shall be
it was always in her words
and the way she loved
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
I love when you are
sleeping, for you are
so very lovely
yet, so unaware.

I love how you are
peacefully at rest
in such an open,
vulnerable state.

I love the way you
smile- that hidden smile
I’ve only caught a
few brief glimpses of
during the day-time.

I love what you have
become when you are
dreaming, my dear, the
way you appear more
dazzling, dreaming
beneath silver rays.

I love you for the
creature you’ve become
and for the creature
you’ve made me in this
satin paradise.

Found poem in The 1975's album title, "I Like It When You Sleep, for You Are So Beautiful yet So Unaware of It."
This poem was written in 2017.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
Listening to those new songs brought
back old memories and future thoughts.
I remember slow dancing with you on
prom night and again at each banquet.
It felt like it was just you and there,
The rest of the world fell away- the music,
the lights, the rest of the room fell away
And it was just you and I.
There’s no need for thinking
and overthinking now.
The answer is crystal clear, even though
you have yet to ask.
Yes.

I want to feel like it’s just you and I forever.
I want to slow dance with you forever.
This poem was written in 2018.
Payton Hayes Mar 2021
The French call an ******
“la petite mort” or “the little death”

tango with lips, teeth, and tongue
undress each other with our eyes
an unspoken agreement that
we’re both dying a little tonight
This poem was written in 2020.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
I’ve known you for years,
never known you in person,
but I’ve known you.
Despite the fact that I am
madly in love with another,
despite that he very well could
be my soulmate,
despite how incredibly happy he
makes me,
I can’t help but smile when
I think of you.
This poem was written in 2018.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
Waller around in this pile of dust you’ve
been licking up.
Drilling deeper down into the dirt with a
forked, reptilian tongue.
Twisting coils of leathery skin ‘neath scales
of golden sun.
Swallow your tail, only to realize it’s how you’ll be undone.

Another sits near, watching you writhe,
the dirt dragging you down, out of sight.
She admires your determination, but you’d
call it fear, with your final breath to the light.

Pour yourself into the hole that opened
beneath you, a grave you carved out with your
scales, like shovels, your armor
broken now, you plummet down
spine emerging like soft palms reaching out
to catch you as you flail.
This poem was written in 2017.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
Last night, I had a had a dream:

We were driving down a snowy-city street.
It was the biggest city we’d ever been in
because we just kept driving and driving
and driving without ever turning.

We had heavy winter coats on and
you were describing your time at work,
which seemed more like a big corporate office,
rather than a small city newspaper.
Your voice was as sweet as silk.

The sky fell to dusk, and we came to a mall
and there’s people everywhere.
The evening chill just vanishes as the
double-doors close behind us.
And we were walking together, talking
and window-shopping and enjoying
each-other’s company.

It seemed like an eternity passed before
we left the mall.
We were walking down a chilly street,
but where our hands joined us, it warmed
me to the core.


I was distracted by the cold, grey,
overcast sky and the snowy streets of the
wintery metropolis we strolled through
when you turned to me and said
something. though I didn’t hear
it in the dream, I know I’ve heard
it so many times, before.

Sometimes, it comes soft as a
whisper, and sometimes a
scream of passion.
I love you.
This poem was written in 2017.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
There is some kind of soft magic
in the way your hands glide
across my skin, half knowing,
and half discovering,
deciphering,
decoding all that I am.
The way you go straight to the heart
of the matter, yet in doing so,
you're perpetually awed both by
your new findings and by the
remnants of stardust you left
behind, last time.
This poem was written in 2018.
Payton Hayes Jul 2018
There is some kind of soft magic
in the way your hands glide
across my skin, half knowing,
and half discovering,
deciphering,
decoding all that I am.
The way you go straight to the heart
of the matter, yet in doing so,
you're perpetually awed both by
your new findings and by the
remnants of stardust you left
behind, last time.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
perfect
hide
burning
breathe
dying
flinch
run
disappointment
usel­ess
wrong

These are just some words
that come to mind when
he does.

As it turns out, despite his
opinion, I was always the
first word and he was always
the last.
This poem was written in 2018.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
Magnolia, delicate, debonair,
and dressed in shades of pink, white, and green.
Like a blushing bride, so fragrant, fair
and fragile, a very feminine queen.
You’re timeless and beautiful beyond words.
Others stand in awe, yet you do not see.
To think that you don’t know would be absurd
surely, you are aware of your own beauty
Let me tell you, Magnolia, one truth:
one day, you will grow out of that allure,
your petals will fall, and you’ll lose your youth.
A love for yourself, now, should be procured
For once it is gone, it will not return.
What once was should not be a flower’s concern.
This poem was written in 2018.
Payton Hayes Mar 2021
I await him, naked, head bowed, kneeling
With leather and rope he binds me tightly
Deft hands’ feather touches send me reeling
Melting candles ready, burning brightly  
He blindfolds me then gags me with a bit
And through the darkness, slowly I am led
To a place where in pleasure I shall sit
‘til ecstasy claims me upon the bed
He’s summoned the small death from me thrice now
Three rounds; it does not end with my pleasure
“You’ll take and like what I give you,” he growls
We’re done when he pleases —at his leisure
After all the teasing, pleasing, and pain
We collapse together —one, once again
This poem was written in 2020.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
He sleeps with the air on, the sound in the background
somehow d r o w n s out the chaos around him.
She sleeps with him, beside her because the sound of
his breathing does the same.
This pretty thought was written in 2018.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
Call it love at first sight, or even lust,
but know it for what it is - familiarity.
You see, the second I first locked eyes with you,
I realized I was missing an integral piece of myself.
I realized, you and I were made from the same stardust
and no matter what I do, I can’t shake the feeling
that the universe put us in this one spot in
space and time so that we could come
together to set fire to the skies.
This poem was written in 2018.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
Spacetime
underneath a veil of perfect midnight
velvet, you kissed me,
had me thinking I’d lost my mind
growing dizzier, dizzier, even dizzier,
I felt myself spinning out somewhere
lost in spacetime
This pretty thought was written in 2018.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
My shoulders measure no more
than a foot across, left to right.
Your hands wrap around my wrists,
your fingers curling 'round with
length to spare.
You stand a whole head taller
than me, with an ego to match,
and a superiority complex,
if I've ever seen one.
But being smaller than you
doesn't make me anything less.
Being smaller, doesn't  make me
incapable, inferior, or insignificant.

I just take up less space.

You, however have proven
your worth time
and time again with every
remark you make
that belittles someone else
and it's all I can to
keep from saying how much
of a waste of space you are.
This poem was written in 2018.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
You look in the mirror and see nothing but remorse, I look at you
and see bones and stardust.
This isn't really a poem. It's more like a pretty thought and was written in 2016.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
I reach out
                               to you -to your essence
grappling to any shred               of your memory.
                             Your smile.
         The light in              your eyes.
The tinkling of bells in
                                                                                    your laugh.
The soft rose that                     warmed all of
the        freckles on your cheeks
           when you                         blushed.
Every feature.
                                                  Faded.
Like an old picture.

Reaching and clawing through
every scene,                       every second.
                                        Every memory of you.
Time stands still              and the world is silent.
The stars hang, frozen        in their dark sky.
                                                       The universe is, and suddenly

it isn't.
My mind
                                      blinks.
My heart beats on           like a drum and
the wind                           rushes from my lungs at
                             lightspeed as
a sickening
possibility comes to mind.

                                                                                      You are nothing more than s t a r d u s t .
This poem was written in 2016.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
Tell me,  darling,  do you know                                                             ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                       what it feels like to see                                                              ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                             all of the stars fall from the sky?
Because that is what it feels like, watching the              
                                               ­          light leave your eyes as the sadness in  
                                your bones floats up from somewhere deep inside of you.  

I tell you that                                                             ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                          you can tell me anything,  not for the satisfaction of                                                               ­                                                                 ­                                                   my own curiosity,  but for the sake of your own sanity.
                                           My love, do not bottle up your stardust,
                                                      but tell me of your troubles and together  
                                                      ­      we can fashion galaxies
                                                        ­                         with what it means to
                                                           love and to be loved,  not what it means
                                                           ­                                    to wallow alone in despair.
This poem was written in 2017.
I'm not sure why it's formatted this way but it won't let me fix it neither in MS Word nor in the HePo text field, so you'll just have to imagine how the poem is supposed to look! :)
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
For once, my room has good lighting.
It is not from the lamp that hangs from the ceiling, casting a yellow glow.
It is from the moonlight washing over you. Washing over me.
For once, I truly see you. You are so much more than the writer or the artist or the brilliant mind.
This night, I see the stardust in your bones.
I see you are more than the flesh and blood and teeth on the outside.
That beauty stops on the outside.
But my dear, you are beautiful, inside and out.
Your stardust is beautiful.
And for once, I see you.
This poem was written in 2017.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
How could you ask me to sculpt for you a
poem out of pure stardust
only to turn your ear to the soft
humming of another?
I poured my heart out on the page for you and
you crumbled it up and tossed it off the bridge.
I just want to know, why?
This poem was written in 2018.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
beneath a blanket of stars
thicker than salt in the sea,
I sat and sat and sat watching,
stargazing and telling you
all my secrets and all my dreams
you took my face in your hands
and looked me in the eyes and said
by all means, “go, do, be.
“just so long as you change you to we.”
This poem was written in 2018.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
I was never one for the daylight,
rather a soul made for
the nighttime.
Stepping out
on the cold concrete, barefoot
to see the stars
was more my schtick than
was watching the sunset.
This poem was written in 2018.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
Stars always became tangled in her hair when she played in the sky.
They twinkled like glitter on her skin when she stood beneath the red, hot sun and glowed in the darkness of his shadow.
This isn't really a poem. It's more like a pretty thought. It was written in 2016.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
I laid with you until time carried
me away and then again, as I dreamt.
But, when I awoke, alone and no
longer in your arms, I cursed the universe
for not letting me stay with you a little longer.
This poem was written in 2018.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
He threw back her silence like liquor but it stung him all the same.
He didn't regret his words — he'd meant them with everything in his bones.
He regretted that she didn't feel the same.
This pretty thought was written in 2019.
Sun
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
Sun
My dear you are like the sun and I am the moon, and my light aches in the shadow of your love.
This isn't really a poem but rather a pretty thought. It was written in 2016.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
Tell me, my dear,   why      you keep

that golden sun beetle      tied so       tightly around your neck?

You say       that you feel naked without it, as

                           it hangs gently

        over your *******.

                         But let me tell you something.

I feel naked without you wrapped around my neck.

                      I am totally and completely exposed without your love

       to shield me from the night.

But your arms are not a ribbon.

                                  I cannot keep you on

a leash.

             Nor do I want to.

Darling, you are           the most valuable thing in the universe            to me.

And because             you mean so much,                     I must let you fly free.

I cannot keep you tied around my neck like the scarab on yours.

I can only hope that you'd willingly hang around.
This poem was written in 2016.
It's inspired by a golden beetle necklace I had years ago.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
The heat the summer sun brought
to your skin makes me so jealous,
for she touched you and you
welcomed it willingly before me.
She left her mark and it’s all I can do
to keep from screaming- I wish I could
touch you, myself, but I am left standing
in the shade, watching your sunburns
come and go.
This poem was written in 2018.
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