11/24/2013

I envy the
teacups,
that get to
touch your lips

I envy the
blankets,
that get to
touch your skin,
and keep you
warm

I envy your
bedroom walls,
which have seen you
smile,
and laugh,
and cry,
and sweat

I envy the
computer screen,
that gets to
stare at you
for hours
on end

I envy your
hair brush,
which is allowed
to run through
your hair,
like I wish
my fingers could

I envy
the stars,
which you look up to,
and talk to
when things get bad

I envy the
water,
that gets to
run along your spine,
and collarbones,
when you take
a shower

I envy the
stuffed animal,
that you sleep
next to
every night,
for I wish
it was me
instead

and I envy
everyone
that you talk
to,
for I wish
I could talk to you
instead

I envy
everyone,
and everything,
that gets to
touch you,
and look at you,
and listen to you,
for I can not
be there to
touch,
or look,
or listen

I am only
hundreds of miles
away

but I hope,
I wish,
I *pray,
that someday
I will replace
that teacup,
or those blankets,
or your bedroom walls,
or your computer screen,
or your hair brush,
or the stars,
or the water in the shower,
or your stuffed animal,
or everyone,
that gets to
touch you,
look at you,
and listen to you,
if only just
for a minute

© 2013 Chloe Perkins

"You are patient"
She said.
I'd never heard those words
I've always been the one
to jump the gun
Its really hard for me
To sit back in my seat

But I'll wait
Don't worry
I'll wait
You really must be special
Because I don't have patience
Its something for me to learn
And I'm alright with waiting.

Just hope you appreciate
The tings I do for you
Cause baby you so special
That I'll be patient.

he sits in a corner with a cigarette in his mouth and i can barely make out the features of his face behind the wispy smoke. i am wide awake and blinking wearily, my trademark playlist for the 'sad and lonely' beating away quietly in the background. our meetings have become frequent rituals where misery and metaphorical silence fills the air, gazing at each other until one gives in.

as always, he speaks first.

"and here we are, we meet again."

i stare blankly at him, watching the way his eyes glow under the dim light of my room. he is twenty to my seventeen and the three years mean nothing, not when he is here within arms' reach. it has never mattered, i think back in retrospect; i have loved him just as long.

"you insist on appearing when i least want you to return, why is that?" my heart clenches on itself harder, the beating of my pulse no different than angry smashes to my rib cage. i have come to hate our meetings, but i am powerless to stop them.

he grins and it is a stupid little thing, the cigarette rolling freely in between his thin fingers. the pause in his reply is long enough for him to take another drag, smoke billowing out in thin, circular shapes as he purses his lips together.

"you know perfectly why, it's because you miss me."

what a self absorbed, conceited *******, i find myself thinking. i lean forward to tear the cigarette out of his hand and crush it in mine, the heat a welcome sensation to the icy tension between the two of us.

"you're a terrible liar, you don't even actually smoke."

he stares at me properly now, eyes twinkling and fever bright.

"i can be anything you imagine me up to be - and today you wanted cigarette smoke and me to fill up the lonely."

the smell of nicotine slowly fades to that of a familiar faint vanilla and honeysuckle of my room, the image of the boy in my vision similarly humming silently in a preparation to disappear.

"i'll see you the next time you want me to. same time, same place?"

i have never been able to watch him leave, so i close my eyes and nod silently. there are only so many times you can watch a person leave you over and over again.

"of course," he whispers, and the smile in his voice is evident. "only for you."

-

by the time i open my eyes, he is gone.

(A.H.Z)

You know
I actually
kind of hated you
for a little but
when I saw you
in my dreams
I realized
that there was no one who
I could ever
hate as much as you
because
the love I have for you
makes me regret
every second
I took for granted

and when
I try to remember
those days we would spend together
I only see
your hair
but not your face
when I reach out to you
you somehow
manage to elude
my gaze to yours
and I only see
the remnants of something
that should have been

You walked
not further from me
but closer
and you stood there
you keep standing there
and whenever I try
to get the slightest bit closer
you dissipate
into the most beautiful
and haunting mist
I've ever
attempted to grasp.

little hours, 31st July '07

the clock ticks and you count your headaches.
crickets and kisses and the sounds the rain make
have become biting.
and you are weak and hollow and waiting
     perhaps, to feel like yesterday,
at the very least,
     when you were becoming something
but because you can't think about anything but how
to be existing right now.
     you don't realise that this has no ending,
it's only the beginning.

sooner rather than later, late October, '11

this was always going to have to happen
and it has been inevitable, perhaps from square one
which was an anonymous kiss
and then became occasional, and rare, and not special,
     and the first time you said it's too soon
but you can't say it again
     because then what is the point of it all
and aren't you just wasting time?
     you realise then that sometimes it's a duty,
and you have to get it over with.

summer '12

you don't think about it like perhaps you should
and you have therapists who tap their pens in concern
when you go silent should the topic arise
and you are over it, you say, and you feel their disbelief
     but what they don't understand
is that there is no choice in that either
     and you move on because you have to- and really,
is there any other option? you live with it.

late November, '13

perhaps you should have not gone silent and said something
and thought about it more, because you've had the time
but saying you were over it never meant that you were,
only a refusal to acknowledge that it's there
     and suddenly you are not a child anymore,
and suddenly you are coming up to twenty-four,
     and since those little hours at seventeen up until now,
looking in mirrors, thinking yourself back in time
wondering much of you is missing- all that time in between
then and today, where have you been?

future*

you didn't think about what you didn't have
because you were too young to know then, and never got to learn.
     whatever was lost has been lost too long to find again
take a look at your future-
keep on hoping you'll find something or someone
who will not just want it over with,
who will have other options but choose you,
who will do more than just live with it, but love it
who will be another beginning
  one day, perhaps, this beginning will make things new
       and you keep hoping because you're weak and hollow
       waiting and because you have to.
you'll live with that.

The motherly figure
Locked away in fumes
Smelling of skunk
The green smoke taking her away
To anywhere but here

The man of the house
Glass after glass
Of wine
*****
Beer
Even Listerine
If that is what it took
To get even a slight buzz

I sit alone
Adding another mark to the tally
Behind the mirror
Only a few more
Before it is accepted
For my life to end

The youngest
Unaware of all of the despair
In her family
The only one
Who truly smiles
In our family portrait