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Dec 2015 · 273
Resonate
redspace Dec 2015
I sometimes watch a setting sun in your honor.
Reminds me you favor orange and look best in red.
The mingling of those colors will always be you.
I cannot brush my copper hair and not think of you.
I cannot watch my cherried cigarette burn and not think of you.
I cannot wait for it to turn black, for that's when I miss you the most.
Burnt out and extinguished like the feelings I had for you.
Untangled and smoothed so we can both feel relief.
But when you've got skin warm like sand and a smile like the sun,
I can't help but wish for those colors to stay.
You're a beach I could lounge by for a lifetime.
I'm still getting over the idea of everyone loving it, too.
Tall girls like forests of green, small girls littering fields like streams.
All the other places I've yet to be, because I'm stuck at this beach.
Watching you set over and over again.
I don't want to leave because I'm not ready yet.
I'll let my hair tangle.
I'll let my smokes go stale.
I'll let my eyes be shut by the blinding light you are.
But I will keep you close in those sunsets.
Because *******, I've never seen someone burn so beautifully.
Had this stuck in the draft pile. Read it again and nearly cried. I guess it was time to post this for you. I still miss you.
Oct 2015 · 288
Uncertainty
redspace Oct 2015
I don't know how it feels to have the color bleeding from my eyes
Seeing the fires through the highs
Having the chills and getting by
through the night just long enough to see straight again.
Stumble back to a tent, say a prayer, resounding amen
That you'll wake in the morning with some enlightenment
on the adventures last night and what you thought they meant.
I don't know how it feels to see a girl you love cry
Feeling sorry for herself and the downward demise
Of the love and the lullabies
that you used to hum to her through muffled sheets.
You kiss her face, stroke her hair and find your own peace.
Both drifting into dreams.
That heavy sleep.
I don't know how it feels to be left high and dry
Your directions discredited and thrown aside
You're back by the fire staring at the sky,
And I know it's been weeks
since you've really felt your heart beat.
Just stuck on repeat,
sitting in defeat.
I don't know why I never posted this. I just read it again and know exactly how I felt when I wrote it and why I wrote it and it just makes way too much sense not to make it real.
If for no one else, myself.
Feb 2015 · 408
1.
redspace Feb 2015
1.
Your eyes are my night sky
Bursting with energy emanating from a darker backdrop
Always twinkling in spats and shining with rhythm
Reflections flicking back and forth from sources near and far
I am weightless when I realize the vastness that consumes me
Your eyes are my ocean
Coming in and out like waves 'neath masts of ships much like your lashes
Breaking against the shoreline that is the sandy tan of your face
Mingling blues and greens that are never quite that simple
I am drowning when they hold my gaze like mermaids after sailors
Your eyes are my earth
Forest and browns that hold mystery and adventure
Wandering souls exploring with ease
Fresh air that soothes and warms
I am alive when I take it all in

No night sky will ever feel like a frightening open space
No ocean will ever feel like a terrifying abyss
No earth will ever feel like I have lost my way
I am not afraid because I have you
  
Your eyes are my home
This will be the first of many.
redspace Oct 2014
He's the color of my coffee and his lips are like ***.
You've got a warmth like sand, a smile like the sun.
He runs me around, I'm too extactic; too dumb.
You keep me grounded, yet on my toes. Light; let me run.
He drowns me with waves; gritting teeth and splitting gums.
You help me grow, but remind me struggling is half the fun.
He is an ocean, once calm, I've turned violent and numb.
You're a beach I can sink my toes into, you give me life, and I've begun.
redspace Sep 2014
Hazel eyes fixated on your presence
They're always warmed when aimed in your direction
Strained from darting as soon as you take notice
Comforted when your voice calls them back home

Ears mangled by holes filled with metal are ringing
They're taunted with quiet words inaudible to another
Excited by the melodies you breathe
Soothed once your lips stop speaking and begin searching

Faded white lies partnered by benevolence
They're still cold in our reflection
Pained from us both knowing this
Ignored once we're again alone

Tears angled at the nostalgia of the beginning
They're haunted by the love they must smother
Ignited by the hard truth I had to receive
Moved once they're landing on a different heart string

Red hair and cold hands still craving your essence
They're becoming quite close with affection
Tangled from knuckle to root in a tight fist
Loosened when yours are finally shown

Fears spoken about our posture and sinning
They're flaunted by life and we love her
Delighted with all that we both believe
Strewed across the air along with the cigarettes we're smoking

Hazel eyes still in love with your presence
They're always here if you should turn in my direction
Strained from seeing our feelings fall from notice
Comforted when you still, after all this, give them a home
I still love you ever so much. It's alright we can't be together. Just keep being my everything else while you're at it.
Sep 2014 · 517
When Us Becomes We
redspace Sep 2014
Cracking sunflower seeds between rigid teeth
Swigging beers through pursed lips
Inhaling menthol cigarettes with tired lungs and a tight rib cage
          I'm left not knowing the difference between your exhales and sighs
I could say that times like these will brand my memory forever
Salt and shells will never taste the same
          my teeth are left weak from clenching when you're in pain
Alcohol will never completely flow through
          my inebriation is always accompanied by you
Cigarettes still consume me and nearly smother
          as you're asking to *** one, and I'm lighting one off the other
I could tell you when small talks lead to deep moments littered with empty bags and condensation, that I am the happiest I have ever been.
I could tell you these things when there was us.
Picking and choosing which seeds to take from the same pile, fingers interlaced, losing count of drinks and who gave the last smoke to who...
But here we are and us is lost
          our night ends when there are no more smokes to share
Menthol still burns through most of our air
          our drunkeness calls for sleep and warm clothes
We'll both get sick and keep the other close
          our appetites and muddled minds both soothed and still
Eating and conversation so easily a thrill
My mind is numb from how these moments keep recurring
          I know you're hiding sighs inside of exhaling smoke
Us meant that I could soothe that stammered breathing and those bruised ribs, because us meant you curling into me while you slept through it all
Us meant that it didn't matter how much we'd had to drink, because us meant the other would be there to make it all seem okay
Us meant that we could eat together, and smoke together, and sleep together, and love each other, and kiss, and smile, and laugh, and just be.
Us meant a lot of things, but us isn't what we are anymore.
It's just we.
We're still passing off sunflower seeds and just barely touching hands
We're still drinking from the same beer bottle
We're still sharing cigarettes
We're still catching the other smiling in our direction for no reason at all.
This poem is a mess much like my head and my heart.
Jul 2014 · 384
Title (optional)
redspace Jul 2014
It's the lines around your eyes when the sun is in the sky,
it's the bend of your back when you've been holding me too tight,
it's the holes in your pants, that cigarette in your hands,
it's the muted stance when you're silent..
I could write about you all day.

But I can no longer rhyme about you.
No more, can I peel back dog-eared memories to construct sentences in your honor.
I cannot put a pen to paper without first wanting to drive it into my skin to make amends with the aching I allowed into my bloodstream.
Because I let those little lines become what I breathe.
I didn't write you haikus because I'd speak them before we'd sleep.
I didn't send you letters because I'd trace them on your ribs while you'd dream.
I didn't leave you notes because I'd plant them on your lips when you'd wake.
I only wish that these personal journals would have made you stay.

I am your poem.
When your name leaves my mouth I am fluent in love.
I hope one day you may find me folded and forgotten in your junk drawer and decide you want me to start writing again.
Jun 2014 · 401
Seattle.
redspace Jun 2014
This is not a poem
It's a memory fleeting
I can't control this and
it's just eating and eating
away at my skin
and my bones
and my blood is boiling,
hot to the touch as you walk away from me.
Letting go, I've never iced over so fast.
You mean(t) everything to me, and I'm not sure how I'm going to handle this.
Apr 2014 · 365
We're beyond this.
redspace Apr 2014
I believe in another life.
Something different than this.
Something more.
"We're beyond this", they say. "We're so much better than this."
But for what?
Go to school, get a job, make up a home and a spouse and a life..
But for what?
It all dies.
We all die.
We're all burdened in this life.
I believe in another way.
Something a lot like this.
But nothing more.
"I can't take this", we say. "I wanna end all this."
But for what?
I don't wanna die.
But I'm going to die.
I am bound by this life.

I believe in another me.
Maybe one that's doing a lot better somewhere else.
You're killing me, and you don't even know it.
Feb 2014 · 439
Notch in the Belt
redspace Feb 2014
Your body will never be another notch in my belt.

Your lips are not on a list
with others I've kissed.
And this,
is bliss.
But only a temporary fix.
Because you still leave in the morning, but only after brushing that wisp
of hair from my eyes. Once I see you, a kiss
is planted on my forehead with "love" resonating in the air where your lips
dared to speak it. And I miss
you before you've closed the door, because remnants of you are on my wrists
where you wrote me sonnets as you held me the night before. We twist
and turn into each other, hands intertwined so tight we nearly draw fists.
Fingers trailing back and forth and I wish

I could tell you how much those moments mean, and how I felt
the first time you looked at me with that gaze and held
it as you loved me. Or was I just a hollow shell
or a momentary cell,
or even a wishing well,
for you to find the man you know you could be? I'd go through hell
just to sigh and say that you're not bad, you're not nothing, you're not.. well,
you're not all the wretched things she's tried to sell
as your label.. as the notch in her belt.
Feb 2014 · 260
One better
redspace Feb 2014
If I could do you one better?
Well that'd just be the day.
I could finally be the last to speak,
or even the last to breathe,
hell, I'd freeze over just to feel that...
shiver.
You'd better grab your sweater.
If I could do you one better?
You might sit still and calm for once.
Instead of looking for a mind to taunt,
finding another flaw to flaunt,
"heavens no! I would...
never."
You always say, just as grey as the weather.
But if I could do you one better?
You would shrink, and you would sink, and you would sin and sigh,
"I've been waiting for this my entire life!"
We'd both know that's a ******* lie.
My eyes, like the earth and sky...
can see through you.
Yet to my heart strings, you will tether,
"You'll never do me one better."
It hurts me that you've always got something more to say. You can never just let something be. No one has their moment when you're around, because you've always got something better. Your life is always harder or your girlfriend is always hotter or you're the biggest loser. Good, bad or indifferent, you just have to be the best at it.
Jan 2014 · 781
Twelve.
redspace Jan 2014
It should have been *****.
Like the beer cans littering the table
and their contents drowning our insides.
Mine flitting around like drunken butterflies.
It should have been *****.
Like the words we shared of exes
and the faces we made at the taste of the cigarettes.
After the twelfth, we all get a little restless.
It should have been *****.
Like the basement we slept in
and the hand-me-down mattress awaiting warm bodies.
Warmer yet with clothes gone, and you on top of me.
It should have been *****.
Like three hours before having joked about ***
Having looked across the table
I was no longer able;
to really look you in the eye because... it should have been *****.

Your face found my neck and those lips found my spark.
You kissed me long and hard like we were lost lovers meeting for the first time.
You grabbed me in such a way it felt as though I could float.
You felt each part of me as you asked me what I wanted.
You spoke to me sweetly and let it all unfold.
You'd rough me up and then lay me down.
And you laid me down.
And I'd drown.
In that beer, in those bed sheets, in those hips,
in those eyes.
You have the most lovely eyes.

But it should have been *****.
It should have felt like the beer cans littering the table
and it should have felt like their contents may still be looming
and it should have felt like that basement or that bed or those sheets.
But it didn't.
It felt like we'd been doing this for years.
It felt as though we were finally holding each other again,
instead of for the first time.
It should have felt ***** when you held me the rest of the night.
But when I woke to you kissing my head and pulling me back into your arms,
***** was the last thing on my mind.
Jan 2014 · 409
Yes.
redspace Jan 2014
if I could speak my feelings
if I could just confess
I could kiss you more
and miss you less

but painfully I do regress
you leave me flustered
in a rise
a complete mess
Jan 2014 · 2.0k
Heart Attack
redspace Jan 2014
Love can mend
Love can peel at the very corners of your eyes and bury its way in
Into your brain being mind and heart
Love can cradle and hold and nourish and feed
Love can hide away and feel safe
Love can breathe
But love is not always a familiar face
Not always a sparkle in her eye
Or a tune in his voice
Love can fall
Love can break
Love can suffer and bleed and scratch it's way back out through your ducts while you wonder why your tears are burning
Love can make you feel smaller than the gravel under your feet and more insignificant than a seal that's been broken for the prize
Love can literally rip you limb from limb and make you feel like you cannot bear the thought of getting out of bed
Love can deflate and berate eradicate obliterate...
incinerate
Love burns
But it burns so good
You come out alive
Love can make you learn what it's like to be vulnerable
Love can make friendly faces feel like home where your tears won't fall but be puddled in their favorite shirt
Love can make thrive and lift you back up
Love can see through lies but only after it's been lied to
Love can feel safe and warm again once it's been left in the cold
Love can be real after seeming so empty and meaningless and a waste
Love can make you bleed
But you'll never be able to leave her
You only keep pining for more because she's beautiful
You wanna hold her again because some nights she did lay still
You need her back because it made you feel real even though you at one time felt nothing at all
You hate her but only because you love her
Love can grow
Love can expand
Love is in a car with good music
Love is in a bed with warm bodies to feel
Love is a conversation that makes you cry
Love is a meal that makes you feel full
Love is everywhere
And she is kind to you
You can't find her in those that don't feel her
You feel betrayed because love won't love you back
Love is not everyone
But love is not just another heart attack.
Jan 2014 · 1.0k
It's in the Trees.
redspace Jan 2014
Life!
It's beautiful.
We all stand like trees in nature.

Each one unique and of it's own color.
Some waning with the seasons in and out of golds and red,
others hanging onto that green all year round.
We've got the notches in our legs and arms and faces and torsos,
the years of experience we've grown up and out with.
We share this sadness around one another.
Some are very old and some are dead.
Some are thick and ornery and proud.
Some skinny, some sickly, some... so-so's.
But if all we see are trees, we're going to miss this.

Because rhyming is out of order,
just notes that belong on borders,
of pages I'll never send,
in books, made from paper, made from trees.. I'll never mend.

But life!
It's unusual.
These trees.
We grow and build and climb towards the sky.
And aren't we all working towards the same goal?
We get stronger, we root deeper, we stand up despite the elements,
and we live no matter what.
And we love... each other.
We share the same soil and the same birds and the same woods in the same place.
But some trees can't grow that high and see those sights.
Some don't like that song in the air that's swirling around.
We share the breeze, but we can still tune it out.
Some can't bear those broken branches and falling leaves and fading colors.
So we end up caught in the rain where we won't touch you,
or the fog where we can't see you,
or the winter where we can't hear you or feel you or want you...

But once the storm calms,
we're still right there next to one another.
Our leaves will remind us that we like to speak,
and we will.
We'll laugh and scream and play with fresh blooms,
and a higher reach,
and that sweet, sweet sway.

Because.. love.
It's got to be mutual.
We're all like trees, and I'd rather be in a forest with you,
than standing alone for display.
Trees don't stop growing.
Friends do not just go away.
Jan 2014 · 766
Stupid.
redspace Jan 2014
Why is it that every time I try and write,
only love arrives?
The kind of love that makes me miss you
and wish we were still together if I hadn't ****** up.
You were the only one that ever made me giddy, and the only one who gave me butterflies.

The kind of love that makes me hate you
for all the horrible, wretched things you did to me.
You were the only one that was so toxic with substance, that I was getting high off of your manipulation.

The kind of love that makes me realize
I should have never kissed you, or your brother.
You two were the only ones who I called best friends, worst flings, and the smartest twins I know.

The kind of love that still makes me nervous
when you speak or cross a room.
You were the only girl I ever fell for, and you made me feel empowered, yet so small.

The kind of love that makes me hate you...
You were the only one I truly regret, and I'm not sorry you're gone.

The kind of love I haven't even experienced yet,
                                                                              but those lips gave me electricity, and I haven't stopped burning through my own mind yet, and I don't believe I will until I can meet them again.
Dec 2013 · 457
Dreams
redspace Dec 2013
Take me away to your strange universe
You and I can always traverse
Where color and light are more like touch and sound
Senses mingle from the sky to the ground
We don't know what we're really seeing or feeling anymore
And I miss you when you're gone

I wander through checkerboard fields and seas of blue
When I'm searching for you
Only to realize it's your flannel and jeans
My fingers trace the seams.

Then I notice that the clothes aren't real
There's really nothing there for me to feel
My eyes flutter open, leaving me hopin'
That I'll fall back asleep and wake with you in my dreams
Because I really miss you when you're gone.
Dec 2013 · 362
Untitled
redspace Dec 2013
I want so badly to tell you just how much I want to love you
I already do, but that word is scary to some
I love you like a strong presence in my life
I love you like the sound you make when you yawn
I love you with the way your hair falls
and how radiant your smile is
and how fragile your frame is

I appreciate you so much, that I guess the love can wait.
Dec 2013 · 787
Ceilings
redspace Dec 2013
ceilings become walls
walls become halls
halls have floors
floors have doors
doors that won't open no matter how hard I keep pounding on each one.
you always gave me these metaphors for your soul; for your body.
"You see, my love,
my mind is a ceiling and my brain turns on like its fan,
swirling round and round when thoughts of you arise.
That air, those thoughts,
start bouncing off of my inner walls,
they touch my eyes when they see you,
my ears when they hear you,
my lips when they taste you...
They all eventually lead to my halls...
arms and legs, you know.
They get the jitters.
I call them the halls because they are dead ends,
so you gotta turn around when my fingers start snapping
and fidgeting,
when my knees start shaking at the sight of you...
when I get cold feet...
Anyway, once you've turned around,
you'd find the flats.
The floors, my dear,
all starin' at the doors."
this is where you'd always trail off, but I knew what you'd meant
your tired soul was aching for those doors to be opened
never mind your thoughts and you limbs
and your sins
never mind your arms and legs and head and mental strains.
you'd always wanted your heart ripped wide open
so I politely knocked on these doors for you
but you never let me in
I rapped with a passion on each one
bur you never let me in
I started banging on these doors, desperate and longing for what was beyond
I was tired of peering through key holes
hoping that maybe my broken fingers might fit the slots
or finally turn the knobs
but you never let me in...

later that year, I came to the realization that you always left your window open
and this day, it was shut.
I walked to your door, and it was wide open
this door had floors
floors had halls
halls became walls...
...and I found you from the ceiling,
that fan would never turn on again.
Dec 2013 · 1.3k
Punctuation
redspace Dec 2013
I watch your personal vapor rise up and over the curl of your bottom lip
as you tell me about your night.
Your teeth clank ever so slightly
with the words that make your tongue slip on the frigid air.
Your hair falls in your eyes with each passing expression
and you continue to brush it away,
over and over and over again.
With each time this happens,
I watch your locks fall into the bends of your fingers
and the space between your knuckles,
and I wonder what those spaces would feel like between mine.
I bet your hands are wonderful...
My eyes meet yours again and your gaze turns sad
as I feel you think I'm not listening.
Believe me, darling, I've never listened quite so loud.
My ears haven't heard a voice like yours in ages
and my body feels those vibrations from your rib cage  
complimenting your steady breathing as you tell me those tales    
words falling off your lips as I watch them go      
and I can still smell your stories on your coat        
in your clothes          
from your neck when you lean in too close            
and let those hands stroke mine              
sing my hair a lullaby to sleep amidst your fingers                
and I just keep talking                  
and you just keep talking                    
and we never seem to stop and punctuate these words.                      
I only wish now that I could taste them, and we can listen to each other talk all night.
Replying back and forth with our voices so loud that everyone can hear                          
our bodies feeling the other's vibrations from clashing collar bones                            
keeping steady breathing as we speak more and more clearly                              
letting it fall from our lips to our coats                                
to our clothes                                  
to our necks when we can no longer pull away from each other                                    
and those hands                                      
god, those hands are now wrapped in my hair,                                        
screaming it awake                                            
and we just keep talking                                              
and we just keep talking                                                
and we just keep on talking until we finally stop to punctuate these words!                                                  
Funny, we only try and tell this story when our eyes meet,
just after you've pushed the hair from your eyes.
Before either of us can start from the top
your hair is in your eyes once more
and your tongue is seeking refuge behind those chattering teeth
and your vapor is rising again
and I'm longing to listen some more.
Dec 2013 · 370
Inspiration
redspace Dec 2013
Inspiration is a hard thing to come by.
I sit in my room and I think of you, and I think of the ways in which you picked apart my things.
One by one you collected my CDs.
You took my books with no intention to read any of them.
I think of my clothes, and the way that they fall across your body, and how you look better in them than I.
Why.
do I do this to myself?
You come into my home and eat my food, you ***** my dishes, you make a mess of my floor;
littered with throw pillows you're too **** lazy to fluff.
Just because throw is in the name doesn't mean you actually do it.
You don't throw things.
You just don't.
Throw me around again.
Break my dishes over the counter after you dump your dinner on the floor.
Rip my clothes up as you say if you can't wear them no one will.
Burn my books that you never read anyway so those words will never reach your heart.
Crack those CDs and may their tunes never reach my ears or yours again.
So I'll sit in my room.
I can still hear you crying in the yard.
But I'm not coming outside.
Inspiration is a hard thing to come by.

— The End —