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Olivia May 2021
we sat.
a woman passed.
she said,
"you look like you're enjoying each other."
she added,
"or the day."
you said,
"we're enjoying the day."
I was enjoying you.
Olivia May 2021
somewhere in the past, I am looking on You for the first time.
You make me smile, and we walk for far too long.

somewhere in the past, my palms are sweaty for the first time.
Yours are too, and we laugh about it.

somewhere in the past, I am hearing You laugh for the first time.
You are so beautiful when you laugh, and it makes me happy.

somewhere in the past, You are holding me for the first time.
You are so comforting, and every time we're together, I don't let go.

somewhere in the past, we are falling in love for the first time.
You are everything, everything, everything, and I am obsessed.

somewhere in the past, we are watching our show entwined.
You are forever and ever and ever, and I am content.

somewhere in the past, we are planning our future.
You are in a wedding dress in Washington and Oregon and Colorado and I am so lucky.

somewhere in the past, we are still together.
You told me you felt safe in my arms, too. I'll hold onto that.
Olivia Apr 2021
We had just met.
You told me that you were tired of your roommate,
So I came and saved you.
We sat in the stadium and talked.
The way the stars illuminated you was incredible.
The air felt electric and I never wanted it to end.
This evening I will not forget.

We had just started.
I told you that I was still nervous,
So you came and saved me.
We sat in the drive-through and laughed.
The way the lights touched you was magnificent.
The world felt okay and I never wanted it to end.
This evening I will not forget.

We had just begun.
We were both so certainly uncertain,
So we came and saved each other.
We sat in your room and smiled.
The way you were so close to me was overwhelming
The room felt so comforting and I never wanted it to end.
This evening I will not forget.

We had just confessed.
We were both so incredibly happy,
So we continued to love each other.
We sat in your car and listened.
The way you sang was beautiful.
The moment felt so transcendent and I never wanted it to end.
This evening I will not forget.

These evenings I will not forget.
Inspired by Dermot Kennedy's song of the same name.
Olivia Apr 2021
I saw You again last night.
You smiled at me so beautifully.

This stunning mirage of You,
It blessed me when I awoke.

I held your hand.
I remembered what it felt like.

You still exist with me in my mind.
I still love you so much it hurts.
Olivia Apr 2021
I'm still in love with you.
And that's okay.
I think about your hands
How they touch the light of day.

I'm still in love with you.
It hurts a bit.
I imagine your smile
What might be causing it.

I'm still in love with you.
I will be fine.
Yet I cannot help but think
What if you were still mine?
Olivia Feb 2021
In you, I see something
It reminds me of peace.
Hands remain tangled,
After we’ve fallen asleep.

Forlorn figures fade
Faithlessly away.
And my faithful frettings
Found moorings in faraway fields today.

In you, I feel something
It reminds me of warmth.
If ever you need flour,
Please knock at my door.

Ancient ancillary angels
Are visiting me now.
And my divine daydreams
Discover a home in delightful dallying about.

In you, I find something.
It reminds me of love.
Mayhaps it’s too hackneyed
But it feels blessed; from above.
Olivia Dec 2020
When I grow old, I shall put seven cents in my pocket and give it to strangers.

I shall embark upon a journey and peddle soft, warm words that fill empty bellies and soothe tattered psyches.

I shall set up a travelling stand where the only currency we accept is memories, used and reused and sold bottled up fresh in old cans of soda.

I shall become known and unknown, even unknowable as I weave my way through threadbare mountains and ribboning streams and sing gentle songs with whatever words you’d like to hear.

I shall collect river rocks, smoothed with time and ancient expressions which I will attempt, futilely, to divine.

I shall carry all of my compliments in the stitches of my shawl and discard the insults on the ground, crumpled bits of refuse decaying in my wake, then pull my garment ever tighter such that the cruel litter may not reach me at all.

When I grow old, I shall find seven cents in my pocket given to me by a stranger.
I wrote this after reading “The Father Costume,” a novel which I still do not fully understand.
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