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Olivia Aug 13
you trusted me,
and you collected the trinkets i gave you and made me an altar by your bedside
you trusted me,
and you broke pumpkin bread beneath the trees on a picnic blanket in april

i love you,
and i still did when i went to her house and slept in her room
i love you,
and i still did when i welcomed her into mine

you believed me,
and you gave me handmade gifts with love in every stitch
you believed me,
and you rubbed my back while i cried and held me when i was scared

i love you,
and i still did when i sent her letters and told her my dreams
i love you,
and i still did when i betrayed the very thing we'd created together.
you cried when i told you.
Olivia Feb 19
23
Dear me!
I'm 23
I thought I'd know so much by now
I thought I'd be so free.

Expectations lay heavily on my shoulders
The paths I follow are full of boulders
People say "enjoy your twenties!"
But I fear I may be growing colder.

Oh God!
I feel a fraud
I thought I'd travel the world by now
Or at least have a full-time job.

This aging thing is really quite scary
Everyone told me "time flies; be wary!"
But we're all aging at the same rate
Don't we all have time to tarry?

Egad!
Still I'm glad
I thought I'd have done a thousand things by now
But if I keep learning, is it really all that bad?
It's been a while since I wrote a poem for my age.
Olivia Feb 19
There is light in the darkness
When I awake, I look at myself
I have my mother's eyes
She is so beautiful

I think of all the sunrises and sunsets she's seen
I think of all the times that she awoke, and looked at herself
And counted all of the days she'd lived
Wondering if she deserved any more

I think of the first time she looked at me
This child gazing back through her own eyes
And thought me perfection
And wished me a million million sunrises
And a million million sunsets
Thinking I deserved them all

I think of my own daughter, as yet unborn
Will she look at me with my own eyes
And be glad I accepted so many days
Even when I felt so undeserving?

I look at these women through their own eyes
And think them perfection
My mother deserves a million million sunrises
And a million million sunsets
My daughter deserves a million million sunrises
And a million million sunsets

There is light in the darkness
When I awake, I look at myself
I have my mother's eyes
I am so beautiful.
Olivia Jan 12
I like to think that Death came for you gently, at six am on a Thursday.
As you lay there, nestled in your sheets; the light in your room was green.
I like to think that He looked like your father, and that He reached out with a sparkle in His eye.
When you touched His hand, it wasn't hard for you to move; you could finally see him at your side.
I like to think you glanced out of the window together; aren't the neighbors so peaceful?

I like to think that Death came for you beautifully, at six am on a Thursday.
As you lay there, the rest of the world sleeping; just two other souls by your side.
I like to think that She looked like your mother, and that She pulled you into a warm embrace.
When you held Her close, nothing hurt; you could finally look up into Her eyes.
I like to think you stopped by the Christmas tree together; aren't the lights so beautiful?

I like to think that Death came for you joyously, at six am on a Thursday.
As you lay there, your eyes clouded over; the dawn not too far away.
I like to think that Death looked on you kindly, and offered you a Coke for the road.
When you took a sip, the universe exploded, and you might go anywhere, anywhen.
I like to think you chose first to rest by our bedsides; aren't these people you made so wonderful?
My grandmother died yesterday morning. I hope death was as exciting and magnificent as she hoped it would be.

Thank you, Grandma Jean, for the love you gave.
Olivia Sep 2022
she is truly indescribable
when i tell you there is a universe which she inhabits, solely--with a few pine trees and visited, on occasion, by the raspberries of reddened cheeks--would you understand?
of course not, for everyone has someone who occupies their own universe.
if i told you she was the best of them all, would you believe me?
that her universe has the most beautiful vistas, the clearest skies, rolling hills stretching to infinity and unfathomable sunsets
would you agree with this fact?
perhaps, if you knew her.
to know her is to know of what i speak. at least, you'd be able to peek through the telescope and gather some version of her temporary eternity.
she gets stuck in my throat, sometimes.
all lovers say that their breath is taken, but how might you know what i mean when i say that sometimes i cannot breathe yet my lungs continue to function?
to glimpse her universe is to plunge into the darkness fully, with such uncertainty that you are certain to find a garden bursting with flowers, the most beautiful flowers. you are certain to find untamed happiness, wildly stunning serenity, and two or so campers in maine looking on in awe.
her universe is heart-stoppingly astonishing, incomprehensibly astounding, unendingly, stupendously amazing.
i never want to leave.
Olivia Mar 2022
Your body is the soft light filtering through green leaves,
The sunrise over the water that reflects into infinity and infinity and infinity.

Your eyes are the gentle clouds floating by on a blue day,
A bygone, lilting breeze where cares are carried carefully away.

Your voice is the sweet birdsong on a warm summer's morning,
The deep church bell that rings so divine that people begin to believe it is the sound of God himself.

While there is no shortage of syntax that I can use to suggest the sweet serenity which serendipitously serenades all souls you surround,

When I see you it is as though I have found myself idle in an idyllic meadow, ignorantly inarticulate in the face of inescapable, unimaginable splendor.

The brushstroke curve of your lips and your neck and your hips and your hands is my favorite painting in the world's museum.

You are so much, you are waking up from a nightmare only to remember you are safe and warm in your bed, you are the rushed, breathless heartbeats after a first kiss, you are July on film, you are the first sip of a perfectly **** strawberry lemonade from the Cheesecake Factory.

But most of all, your body is the soft light filtering through green leaves,
The sunrise over the water that reflects into infinity and infinity and infinity.
Olivia Feb 2022
who are you?
that i think of you often
i cannot escape it
caring for you is lighting myself on fire
how can i become free?
that i'd carve your face into the ash
and maybe when it melts it will look like hers
but no, it is yours
it is yours that i would sculpt with my two hands
and become burned by the embers of my own foolishness.
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