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Lindsay Dec 2019
I am completely undone
by the vowels of his name
his words feel like
church
he laugh like
Sunday
his hurt is like water
and his strength is rain

He only knew pain
but preached resilience
the first time we touched
I swore it healed us

I never thought
being seen
could feel so vulnerable

The scars he holds
in his heart;
on his body
give me a high
I never thought
I would find

and he shows them to me willingly
he isn’t afraid of anything

But I am afraid of everything
Lindsay Dec 2019
I saw your face today
for the first time in 2 years

the lights in my brain that spell out
your name lit for the first time in 1 year

so now I'm writing a poem
for the first time in 8 months

because your eyes reminded me
that love does not live within the construct of time

and the matches you left lie dormant
in my mind until your memory sparks the flame

and I lose all train of thought as I drift into
the hypnotic peace of warmth, crackle and flicker

until the sticks turn to ash and smoke
and I transport back to the cold and dark that is your absence

happy birthday
I hope you're happy

and thank you for every spark you lit in me
and for every spark you will light in me

every December 13th
Lindsay Jun 2018
When my mother dies

I'll get a tattoo
not in memory of her
but in memory of her
hatred for tattoos

           I don't know

what the tattoo will be
I'll decide when I get to the parlor
what it is isn't the point
the point is

          how I'll live

will be up to me.
I'm not sure how I'll feel
but I do know I'll have the freedom
to chose who I'll be


          without her.
Lindsay Apr 2018
it's a lazy morning

light peak a boos with
cracks in the curtains
warmth seeps through the walls
every ray of sun kisses
every particle of earth

my senses react kindly
to a crisp salt breeze
that has dropped by
like an old friend i haven't seen
but certainly have missed


i watch the tide
waltzing with the sand
back and forth
give, take

i'm intruding on the intimacy
but i can't look away
the waves rock my mind
into a trance so deep
i have the most absurd thought

maybe, i am okay
Lindsay Feb 2018
i like informality

beer straight outta the bottle
pizza for breakfast
wearing a shirt 3 times
before washing it

doing dishes by hand
reading old birthday cards  
stayin up til 2
even though i have to be up at 8

bonfires
backroads
gettin lost on the way to a bonfire
because i took a backroad

going to a bar
on a tuesday night
and kissing a stranger
just because i'm drunk

and lonely
and through the years i've aquired a taste
for whiskey on lips.
And besides, isn't that

the only reason we're here anyway?
Lindsay Oct 2017
Finding a lover is effortless
for some people.
They only want a few things:
Someone attractive, kind,
funny or rich.

But
I desire
something so much deeper.

I want

an intelligent mind
that wakes up thoughts in me
I didn't realize were hibernating.

I want

to converse, analyze and debate
without being conscious of
the sun rising and falling
between our words.

I want

to make a witty remark
at a coffee shop
so he can reply sarcastically
just for me to jab back immediately
and for him to comeback back playfully
until we're both laughing
stomachs shaking
spit flying
the whole store staring
and we leave
without coffee

I want

our hands to stitch together
perfectly
like two lost puzzle pieces;
one found under a couch cushion
one found inside a junk drawer.
The rest of the puzzle has
already been thrown away
but
these two pieces remain
and they fit.

I want

to fall in love together
then together fall in love with
art, museums, songs, poems
T.V shows, radio jingles,
greek food, backroads,
our mutual hatred for pop culture,
doing the dishes (as long as he washes and I dry)
wrong turns, piled up laundry, life.
Just fall in love with life.

I want

to hurt with him

I want

to save the world with him

I want

to meet, see, understand
and experience all that is foreign
with him.

I think it will only take us meeting
and it'll only be history and happiness from then on.

It's just a matter of if a love like that could ever be
and if a love like that could ever be for me.
Lindsay May 2017
My Professor told me to leave his class room.
I lifted my bowed head
“Huh?”

"Leave my classroom",
he said.
“I don’t tolerate
tweeting, texting,
snapping, sexting,
in my lectures.
So if you’re going to be on your phone
be on your phone elsewhere.”

I didn’t have the energy to rebuttal
“Professor Hughes, I wasn’t looking at my phone.”
I simply did as I was asked
and left.

Funny how my head was bowed
because I was looking down
at the scars I carved into my wrists
this morning
laying in bed
eyes opened
body still
demons anchoring my chest
feeling pressed into my mattress
mumbling through the paralysis
“I have to go to class today
I can’t skip again”
“But your bed is so warm
and you’re a ******* anyway”
my depression taunted
“If you would have just swallowed that bottle of pills
last night like I told you
we wouldn’t be in this mess”

As I’m walking back to my dorm,
the parallel of last night
and this morning
smacks me like a wooden bat to the back:
Life is like a college class;
you don’t always want to be a part of it,
yet alone participate.
Sometimes just showing up
is all you can muster up that day.
And you might do something or even nothing
and someone who doesn’t like that something or nothing
will come up to you and say,
why don’t you just leave?

And you may not have the energy to disagree.
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