Elizabeth

Elizabeth Feb 2015

sidenote for a memory

the night was black velvet,

and you were a castle.

Elizabeth Jan 2015

you.

cold coffee, dried flowers.
no, i don't write poems so much
anymore.
you came along and i'm
suddenly
living in
one.

Elizabeth Jan 2015

where

there's melancholy softness in feeling detached, cobblestone streets and fake flowers, i don't want them anymore.
when i woke this morning i couldn't feel like myself, i don't know who you are when we fight against them, who am i.
i'm ashamed of the dark, you're a friend to it, too, but that doesn't make any of this stone-scraped melancholy sweeter.
where are we going, where will we go,
who are we fighting, down in this hole.
i shrugged it off like a metallic tilted fly, you left, i cried, died a little inside.
it's all my fault, dark twisted dreams led me down a path of savage thorns, and now they're yours to carry, too.
i never would have gone, if i knew they would be yours, i wouldn't have, i wouldn't have, i.

Elizabeth Dec 2014

ecdemomania

[noun]
1. a morbid impulse, or obsession, to travel or wander around
2. a compulsive wandering away from home

nights like these are soothing to a soul like mine
no place to be, no eyes to impress, after whirlwind tornadoes of raised pinkies, raised eyebrows, i'll drift down subconscious streams and fade into their currents
i'll try to understand all i've felt lately, all i've been lately, i'll see colors of you in the flowers you brought me, they still haven't died
i'll read old letters on note pages, letters that formed bridges around my thoughts until there were roads above rubble and oceans
there's a picture of us in my mind i keep revisiting, like an old friend, gone, but you never left
i did, i left, but
i came back, i'll always come back, to you
i always will,
i always do

Elizabeth Dec 2014

you thought i was asleep, but i wasn't

closed eyes, nostalgic rain like a heartbeat, the engine hummed, you sat beside, behind, the wheel, slippery road beneath the sturdy tires of your silly old car.
darkness surrounded us like a movie scene, it brought its grey memories behind eyelids like storm clouds surrounding my mind like clockwork.
you thought i was asleep, but i wasn't.
i felt your hand reach over, covering mine like a signal in the storm to stay strong, come home, don't leave me, your thumb gliding against my wrist like soft rain droplets on the windshield, the night was black velvet and you were a castle.
you whispered three words i've been aching to hear for so long, too long.
you thought i was asleep, but i wasn't.
every storm cloud dissipated into nothingness, despite every stinging heartache, lapse, flaw
i opened my eyes, turned my head to yours, and you knew
you knew
you knew
you knew
i love you, too.

Elizabeth Dec 2014

yesterday

my heart’s in my lungs
there’s a pain in my chest
that i never told you about
silence stains in shadows
piercing through to where
you used to be.
needle and mulberry thread
i’ll trim the edges with an echo
fill the space between the branches
where I thought you would be.
but you weren't, just take back your
promises.
you've already forgotten
about me.

Elizabeth Dec 2014

ponderously

i’ve been stitching a tapestry
the ends frayed with words
I’m not sure who they’re from
I'm not sure who they're for, I
sit un-stitching errors every
once in a while there’s always
a dark thread holding lighter
ones together towards the
middle there was a face and
I’m not sure it belongs to you
anymore I haven’t finished it
I’m broken up with pieces of
you they keep falling into the
thread and I can’t get them out
I built a castle around you but
I’ve forgotten the key and you’ve
locked every door