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5d · 27
renée 5d
there's a feeling which flows ascendant in me
something like rapture or love
at the movement in your chest, and when i
recall your heartbeat by my head
your song whirls and dithers around me
like a mourning dove or a
euphonious revenant, composer of all my
lyrics unsaid
something stirs like a spectral presence
when all of your music counts me condemned
renée 7d
his lips taste like rapture unguaranteed
and love me so softly that i wonder if i'm free
but lately i conjecture, lately i still see
on late october nights - your face in that debris
(all we are now
is remnants in the sea
all we are now is a raging
renée 7d
tonight there is a newborn autumn
and pictured in it a little photograph of what
could've been
when a novel rain broke this drought and a
poem in my heart sang like a little wood thrush
almost free
tonight there is a young notion
rendering a rush like october rain
and rupturing this dryness
like his arms around me
tomorrow nears an almost hope
a tuneless number i can almost sing
renée Sep 27
my poetry is
about nothing
for years it took the misery from
my bleeding heart and made it pray
it cried rhyming rivulets to the skies then
put my tears away
my poetry wears black -
not because it mourns or
because its going through a phase
all my ink dried up in drought
the year the rain came
and now it
spends its extra time inside
just writhing in its grave
Sep 18 · 191
oblivion like saccharine
renée Sep 18
his tears are stirring in the hurricane that is
our love
his tears meet mine just where
the floodwater amounts above—
just where i left it, just where
we sought the oblivion thereof
you still tell me that you miss me
so much, and i tell you,
i tell you exactly:
that the hurricane must evict
us, must allow—
the sun
Sep 10 · 351
wish no. 54832584
renée Sep 10
i think that people take their love for granted
because i—
i’ve spent every waking night
of every aching month
dressed in every shade of you except your touch
i love and lose and hurt
and lust
your memory cannot sustain—your memory
is not enough—
to simply have your presence is the
thing for which i blow—
on candles
angel numbers, dandelions—even snow

and why, i always wonder
do so many that i know
take their love nearby for granted—
that’s one thing i’ll never know
Sep 10 · 81
Last Year's Ghost
renée Sep 10
the lights flicker off, and i hear it almost—
this year’s song from last year’s ghost
he plays it on repeat, the one that
fades out too fast like september heat
i don’t wanna sing anymore, but my mouth
drives forward in wintry retribution—
“take me back—” to feel the rains of one summer
kiss my skin until this one freezes over
and it passes into me: revenge,
the weekends, the years i miss the most
'till i watch it drifting through me
like mortality to the ghost
Sep 10 · 309
a cosmetic composition
renée Sep 10
with her face as a canvas she coloured
her cheeks as bright as peaches in the sun, her lips as dark
as cherries picked and run, her eyes as sad
as storms not yet begun
and began the day, the sky her
favourite shade of grey
(for once)
renée Sep 10
i just find it so **** crazy
     (or maybe i'm just crazy)—
that the preying mantis on my porch
has a soul
and that earwigs experience fear
     and that the honeybee in my backyard
knows all her peers
and that one of them, perhaps
hopes to grow old—
     or, at least, to make it a year—
and now finds with her eight eyes
her daughter a smear
on the picnic blanket on an
     arbitrary Wednesday
she's watching with eight eyes—
perfectly clear

maybe i'm crazy but isn't it also crazy
     how we look just like ants from afar?
renée Sep 9
i guess that i just can't believe
that you and me—
that i thought that this could ever be
we said that we loved but our love
never swayed gently with the trees, our love
never stayed in the event of a breeze, our love
became a season that flutters in degrees

there is a bottle out there somewhere on the sea
and inside is a letter written
to you from me
of all the things that i wished that we could be
and all the things i chose not to believe —
of all the words i swore i'd never

all the stars above remind me
of the only things that we both see
and i know you're either half-alive or half-asleep
wishing wishing wishing wishing
wishing wishing
renée Aug 29
I’m weak without you and I’m weak
in your presence
Admiring your essence
Like you were sculpted by God to stand in the Garden of Hesperides
Apr 12 · 38
“My Love,”
renée Apr 12
It'd be a lie to say that Langston
Was always my favorite
Or to say that you
Were the first to impel the poet
In me
But the touch, the inmost intimacy
Of your own hand against mine
The idea of my body and your sigh —
You weren’t the first and you won’t be the last
But listen to me when I tell you I’m already past
Pretending I never felt
What you said you dreamt last
I loved you, I did, I
It happened, it’s real, it’s —
(Don’t listen to what I say now
Only the old me knew.)
Jan 10 · 100
love poem
renée Jan 10
you ever just not know what to say? write? feel?
but then your skin feels him—almost, truly, feebly
and breathing
it was one kiss but i still...
he still loves me—
he doesn't love me
i still... i still
do you remember my red sweater?
the one i wore that day before leaving you?
i'd hold it to my face—as if to conjure the smell of you
and your handwriting's beautiful,
i don't care that it's bad, or that you
said it was
i still... i still vacuum the excess
but it never escapes
little jewels
little dust molecules
and little morsels of almost-nothing
that cling to my hair like snow
i still... i still...
Jan 10 · 86
Interspace Affair
renée Jan 10
Like Wasatch collapsed
for the two of us to be here
Harvey parted his torrent
and tempest, and fear—
That your lips would find mine.
i used a prompt--a poem in 25 words.
Nov 2020 · 170
Tear-Stained Gymnopédie
renée Nov 2020
there are tears on the piano scores
i play for you
tears on the letter that you wrote
that flew
from 1500 miles of blue
across Pacific, the Gulf—
it’s true
all the seas between
us made of tears
my music made of all my fears
that you would never get through
that blue
‘till all of my cried-out notes
rung true
and all my tears forged seas
for you
Nov 2020 · 191
morning elegy
renée Nov 2020
i strip metaphors off my skin
the feeling of you, something i never knew
i drink similies like they're gin
wishing and wishing and wishing,
i wish
Oct 2020 · 80
the flood
renée Oct 2020
i try to stop loving you —
how does one stop loving you?
you're an august rainstorm, though
summer's so faraway
i died the first time
you touched me;
your voltage and my vulnerability
hurricaning like houston does,
flooding my eyes like the torrid streets
last may
what i wouldn't give to be struck by you
again, just one last day
Oct 2020 · 68
renée Oct 2020
i'm all broken pieces
you looked at me like my hair was
dessert *** dripping down,
a dream, your eyes tearing through me
tears raising my exalted
floods shattering my precipitous
like my body was porcelain, i'm the
doll you lived to love and to hold
but never did
oh, brush my hair the way you’d do
just put me together again,
i beg of you
Aug 2020 · 42
I'll be a crying rose
renée Aug 2020
i'm going mad, sylvia
  sylvia, save me
    from the psychopath
my writing's bad
  but i'm a scientist
    i won't lie, it's
true that my own
  words evade me
    and non-truths persuade me
i found a love, he's faraway, he
  loves me too
    but i'm a writer,
not a liar;
  i'm not someone he can call his
    in this
world or the next
  my writing's bad but i'm alive
    i'm getting sad but i can write
about it, i suppose
  sylvia, i'll be a crying rose
    that dies when the words rain
because water doesn't suit
    but i'm a swimmer, i'm the rain
so words will always
  choose me
renée Jul 2020
maybe I could drive away, drive my way
towards you
get past Tennessee
and through
watch the flowers die and bloom
maybe if I lose my mind—
come closer to the truth
maybe if I look for you
in mountains you’ll be carved into
them just the way
I always do—
you’re in my mind
you’re in my room
I see you in the phantom blue, I
fall I drown I look for you
I close my eyes, don’t wanna lose

I close my eyes;
the flowers bloom
May 2020 · 137
renée May 2020
i feel your arms around me in phantom form
i feel you here and it hurts me more, but
i embrace the pain in seeing
your phantom face
because i'd rather dream you up
than not have you at all
here in this lonely place
May 2020 · 120
don't put it out
renée May 2020
your aching lungs seek life—
is breath mist or is it smoke
from fire underneath your tongue
borne of words you nearly say
but don't
trust the fire—burn the leftover
sawdust in your mouth, don’t put it out
there’s stardust in your veins
don’t put it out
May 2020 · 394
it's a deep blade
renée May 2020
it's a deep blade
buried like a treasure
wade your way through to the heart but
mountains stop you every measure
every way
every chance you get
you take but i can't heal myself today
and i'm sorry
May 2020 · 65
mount rushmore
renée May 2020
i say i miss you more
i see your face all etched
into my mind like mount rushmore
i say i miss you more but maybe
i've been missing my hometown or
the way i felt my cheeks flush pink
from the sun i soaked in on the shore
i miss the heat, i miss the warmth
i miss the pretty things i wore
you noticed them,
i noticed more
i'm sorry i never talked to you
i wish i understood it for
Apr 2020 · 982
renée Apr 2020
'strength or energy' -
'coercion or compulsion' -
  'push or pull,' you made me lull
    myself away from myself
     in parlous daydreams
      it was the object, the promise, the need
       for you against
        me, unmet because of the headstrong
         mountains in-between
           it was the bells
           pavlov felt would make me
          your dog, your perfect angel-
         demon infidel, and to answer your question
        i don't believe
       in us anymore, but there's a difficult heat
      from the matter inside me
     the human that breathes
    for your reality
   that lulls itself to sleep with nonsensical scenes, with
  the sleepy possibility
of you and me
Apr 2020 · 232
el verano termina
renée Apr 2020
i used to believe that love was a lie
but it's not
i used to cry for its lack, but it is -
it's just lost
i folded in love, i sunk so many stories

still, love's not all stories
it's heat and it's hot and it's
then it's gone
with my tears after 2 am -
the time that i thought
about the miles between us, and the
inches between love and lust

no, it was love, i know that it was,
but it fell, it
collapsed on papery limbs
like a 17-year old girl does
when it fought
renée Feb 2020
i long for that time
when we were just fourteen, and
you knew me at all
Jan 2020 · 337
spontaneity - a haiku
renée Jan 2020
you know me, I play
pianos just where I find them
and smile at my zeal
renée Dec 2019
remember you then
fifteen, laughing at my jokes
I wish that were you
Nov 2019 · 392
time is not a ticking glass
renée Nov 2019
it used to throw me
into a wall and i banged my head
so many times that i realized
that it’s in my mind, “time”

it’s a story aching to be written -
only it’s a story
lacking characters, and they were kiddin’
when they said that time was tangible -
truth is, we’re here, we’re now, we’re infrangible
the story wasn’t written for us to keep

and i don’t think it’s right that time hangs from the clocks in a ticking glass
or that it’s a vase of dying roses only
potentially shattered by poets
time’s a lie
time’s what keeps you on rhythm,
on rhyme

age strips from you
the rapture of being in the moment
what’s passed grips you
‘til you’re stock-still, speechless, stricken only
with rainy days in the memory places,
sleepless nights and splintering vases -

smile at the starlit galaxy,
feel live symphonies in all your cells, and
taste the choruses that freed your throat of a stupid lock
that clicked when someone deemed you “not enough -“
not enough?
you’re filled with stories, you’re making one right now, and think
how every moment is with you
each time you inhale, since you first sought breath
with infant lungs
the moment you escaped this hellish jail

time is not a ticking glass
it’s laughing with me after class
and knowing that will always last
in you no matter how far
or how fast
i go from what’s long, gone, passed
because time is in fact
a useless mass
of numbers in a ticking glass.
Sep 2019 · 320
garden of tuileries
renée Sep 2019
baby's breath, tulips, disorientation,
swinging to saxophonists in french yards
and for this I cry when waking
because you’re only a fool's gold,
a vinyl alyssum, a grafted painting
yet I see you here still
on these tonic midnights
lurking in the garden of tuileries.
Sep 2019 · 133
pray tell
renée Sep 2019
pray tell
why do i do this
“i hate you,” i swear by it
until you exhale and i descry you’re not a dream’s souvenir
i hate you i hate you i hate you
Aug 2019 · 346
last september
renée Aug 2019
you made me origami roses
origami poses like a person, primal, primitive
you’re like that, i was into it
i found your dancing eyes and let-go laughs in september sky-lines beautiful
remember when you were almost just mine?
i don’t think you do
origami roses for you
she’s just for you, it’s clear as tonight’s sky
even behind rose-coloured glasses in my vision-line, though imbued with tears
go away, please
go away now
i can’t handle to see the roses
and not be able to stop and smell
no, we can’t be just friends
it’s hell
go away now, please
go away now
i’m obsessed with roses
Jul 2019 · 170
renée Jul 2019
flip a coin and we’ll decide
my blood’s hot but the air isn’t
names engraved in snow just melt and go away forever
dulce, dulce bebé de verano
it’s winter now, don’t lose the warmth you get in your cheeks
in the summer
Jul 2019 · 283
renée Jul 2019
someone called my talking style different
she could tell i spoke with the diction of an artist
a writer, perhaps
but i always thought i was the same old kind of child searching mindlessly to be caught in an internal chirographic trap
i can’t write but i try,
and thank you for noticing.
Jul 2019 · 578
ogni dolce aura
renée Jul 2019
someone’s talking love on a summer night
i sit and wonder why you were the only thought that came to mind
like cigarettes to a reminiscer of about 50 times ago, when they almost quit
i think october, when words came from my lips like diamonds—they were ugly in my mind, but i spit them out
and you called me pretty
when mixes from that year turn around and crackle softly i can’t help but miss the tears that lamented so long ago
when i could feel about you
i won’t pretend to understand those mindless fancies, but i see then that ocean which reflects the moon
and swing clair de lune, which
i avow to play for you but it’s for me—
i’m playing to forget, or feel
that’s what we players do
money and music, it’s numbing or galvanizing, it’s up to selection
i’m losing the latter but it sometimes catches up with me
the hotness that rolls in waves or in a fast descant,
and then i remember for one moment in the summer after two years
how it felt to cry and to be fettered by you
Jul 2019 · 150
wishing stars
renée Jul 2019
pretty american houses
pretty bays
and boys and happenings
hidden dreams fly out like smoke, in rings, in threes
candled wishes don’t go far—
but i don’t know about these dancing stars
twinkling, aren’t they?
the eyes of God
that bestow heavied wonders
on the shore
underneath the doors
of those pretty american
beach house floors
stars, wished on with this treasured heart
of yours
it’s ethereal, your existence
your words are like the sea
i hear them roar when i’m asleep
i love you still i love you
Jul 2019 · 267
renée Jul 2019
Magazine cutouts
I’m muddled
My favorite time of day is when there’s pink, gold, and violet
Setting light over a stratosphere
Cut out a picture of me and keep it, please
There’s more to life than what you think you see
There’s a rose-colored glass over life, but keep it, please
You don’t wanna think about the sad, the bare, the lonely
Just remember the radiance, sunsets, and me
There’s nothing but clouds and blue-rayed skies here
Blue, and violet now
Fading to black
You always make sure
To remember the color—stop at the roses
Look up or you just might miss it
Jul 2019 · 208
chapter 2
renée Jul 2019
writing drives me mad but i do it
for reasons i don't know, still
i'm mad at the world and art is the escape trail
like you sort of
used to be
renée Jul 2019
cracked poets still shine
through lines—of hymns
and of smiling crow’s feet
clams look dull but I know what might be
and you do too
Jul 2019 · 696
fanned nights
renée Jul 2019
tanned thighs
perfect music and perfect laughs
your house sits on the hill where the bay lies
grassy and stretching down to where the water runs like a marathon medalist or a
tidal pool circling around to reach its tail
you tail me too, when we chase each other on these fine white sands
tail me, I dare you,
get me, adore me
like you do at 3 in the morning when you have me on the counter to sing to and look at me
fanned nights, palms in the sticky air of a summer evening
spread like cards on the low table
heat simmering like breakfast at 4, which we take with us
to have on cracking shells and blacked feathers along the shore
I see your skin, soft, pulling sand—your fingers—sifting beaches, straining them easily
warmer than the sun—your eyes
august nights that bring the fight into you
you’re talking nonsense, but it makes perfect sense because it’s you
rosy cloud matter hangs above ‘till I’m under glass surfacetops, at the bottom of the sea
but I wake up just above it
to be a floater—streaming boater girl, always
really, just watching you, down with another, passion firing your eyes, unlocked
I watch as I do butterflies
wild and free to fly
it’s okay, I told you
you’re suntanned and you’re mad
you’re talking, like you do
but it’s okay
because you’re free
Jul 2019 · 349
black sand beaches
renée Jul 2019
cruiser-bike girl
he threw his chance with me
I thought I saw our names scored in sand—one lonely beach
one summer, one time
it’s a different time, I guess
a different scene, sea baby
maybe some time I’ll be swept away by you
you lovely, lonely current—
maybe in another sixteen.
Jul 2019 · 118
renée Jul 2019
you’d see her on a cruiser bike in your dreams
that girl, on rapt beaches
—that girl has more to her than perceived
guys elude me; each his
own but still the same
we delude—our name
is the one he’d sort of cry
in his sleep, or even say
i’m just that southern girl
not even—
i’m that other girl he keeps
to himself and no one else
but i was a girl
not your belonging
and not your world
Jun 2019 · 249
"pawn shop brokers"
renée Jun 2019
put your eyes on them
skin and whiteness
and sheen
lovely hair, they
don’t see the lack-
luster life we fear
gucci on sight
yachts, mazdas
shots at midnight
hyatt in the plaza
to dream on roofs
but we sleep blanketed
they speed, shoes thrown way out—
at least our thrills are felt—
not ersatz,
not lost and dreamt
or counterfeit.
Jun 2019 · 110
the happy years
renée Jun 2019
my blind eyes didn’t follow—
moments pass by in the rear-view
margalo, the happy years
life’s just a pool of draining shallows.
Jun 2019 · 367
renée Jun 2019
I was never vivacious;
Pétillant girls giggled
So did I
I was dissimulating,
Pretending at points;
In school, secondary—
Yet, after having chased reveries, flat dreams, insipid ends, and
having ruled all aims vain—
To them, I think,
I was, still, positively,
Jun 2019 · 334
cold in june
renée Jun 2019
what an abysmal life
me, beveling down its side,
you not existing,
me searching.
cold june searching lost sad
Jun 2019 · 594
renée Jun 2019
our weariness is waxing from these
fiery, hellish universes—
these same sick, fiery, hellish verses
rendered out of vile fiends’ lips
liar, liar—the price required
is a mere soul’s harrowing worth
satan’s spires, hounding hell-fire—i wonder, does he cede the
cost of his hostile mirth?
Jun 2019 · 806
renée Jun 2019
Marigold, southern roses
in my backyard
there she poses
Camellia, there we dine
red lights, red wine
red tequila
Marigold, flat-pressed roses,
that memory, it’s the tenet
of my broken-ness.
Jun 2019 · 3.6k
mother of disaster
renée Jun 2019
I’m capable of disaster—
Godspeed to the mother of disaster
Carpe Diem, Beverly Hills is ready for you, faster,
our minds are rupturing from these rapturous months
it’s all a little much for us
Surreality, angular surreality
We’re two-faced, defacing reality’s ideals
Because it’s up to us, that’s the veridical deal
‘99 can’t party, no—
Not like the kids
who can no longer feel.
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