It was not love at first sight. When you walked into the room the rest of the world did not slow down. There was no movie magic moment where our eyes met and I knew that you were the only girl I was ever going to fall in love with. Instead you were longing at first glance, yearning for a love that I never could have imagined before. I couldn’t picture our wedding or growing old together but I could vividly see the two of us together. Cuddled under blankets reading on a Sunday night. Decorating our apartment for Halloween. I could see Indian takeout in bubble baths with three cats curled up beside the sink. You were not love at first sight but you were better, you were real. You made love believable. I never had faith in finding a fairytale romance but in you I found forever. A reality of two souls bound together by a force neither of them can explain. You may not have been my love at first sight but you’re my love in every glance since. It’s heartbreaking that I can only look at the world through rose coloured glasses while you live in a world so far from make believe.

It’s been five months since you left
which means it’s been nearly half a year
of waiting for you to come back
which is to say that if my heartbreak
were a baby
it would be the size of a papaya
which means nothing
except now I want to cry
at the grocery store
which means I can’t escape you
even in the produce aisle
and I don’t know how to
stop wishing you were with me
all the time

On our first date you told me
you wanted a girl who you could have fun
grocery shopping with
except now I feel sad everywhere
and I’m no fun anywhere
which is probably why you left me
in the first place

Now I spend my nights wondering if
you found a girl with sunshine in her cheeks
and I wonder if she’s brave enough
to sing in the car with you
and maybe she dances in the
produce aisle in the same spot
I stand crying over fruits
and I’m thinking that’s probably
why you left me
not because I cry in public
but because in my mind there was always
someone better
someone more alive
more beautiful
and you got bored of reassuring me
that I was worthy of your time

I don’t know how to tell you
that you make me fall in love
with being alive
so instead I’ll tell you
that since I met you I’ve found
beauty in a rainstorm
and sometimes at night
when I feel so close to giving up
because it would be easier than
missing you
I hold my breath and listen
as rain knocks on my bedroom window
and I’m reminded that the first time
you touched me
lightning coursed through my veins
and brought me back to life
like a kiss in a fairytale
you woke me up when I didn’t know
I was sleeping  

I don’t know how to tell you
that before you
I traveled three frames
behind everyone
as the world sped by
and words fell from lovers mouths
after they had already walked away
I struggled to catch up
with jumbled words
that tumbled through my trembling lips
but I was always too late
so I became mute to save myself
the heartache
and when you came along
I had forgotten how to speak
so I stayed silent
instead of admitting how much
you meant to me

I know that if I were lucky enough
to be heard by you again
I would tell you that I want you
in the most mundane ways
like Sunday mornings with iced coffee
and menthol kisses
—like listening to you sing in the shower
and watching your eyes light up as you laugh
I want summer evenings at the beach
bowling dates and early morning hikes—

I’ve never known how to tell you
that I will always take you for who you are
and what you’ve done
so I tried to show you through
good morning texts
and words of affirmation
but I need to stop assuming
you know what I mean
when I speak in metaphors
so I hope someday my words find you
and you’ll understand that for me
you were never a phase
and I can only dream
that you can still see the rainstorm
you unleashed inside of me
all those months ago

-

i took no pleasantries in that adjustment
from the top shelf of Pastry Perfection
to the wicker-wire dust bunnies at the
"sole" level of humanity

after i mistakenly thought —you—  took
some element of freeverse i had posted a
couple of years ago at one of the more-read
poetry sites on the internet-

then i realized something, Poet..

that for all those sleepless hours you
spent cramming for the SAT—

i posited on how many welding rods
could be burned down during a two
hour period of trade school

and with respect to those thousands of
words diligently packed into your
undergrad dissertation—

(including that humorous description of a
knitted strap you used to keep the pencil
from rolling off the table)

i wrote a brief essay of commonalities
on how much Gerald R. Ford and
Elwyn Brooks White
actually disliked
football,

and to those thoughtfully crafted lectures
in front of scores of distinguished
scholars and senior staff—

i was projecting shadow puppets onto a
screen during a slideshow while the
teacher excused herself to the restroom.

basically this;  

as to the volumes of books
you have published
over the decades—

i have a few thousand words of
amateur poetry posted online
inside of a few years.


That Said,

for those carefully-placed words
(of mine)
you incorporated into your
latest masterpiece,

realizing poets will not always
happen upon the same instant
at any given intersection,

i recognized that most familiar sensation
we Both get when having correctly
delivered the punchline to the funniest
joke of the evening.

we —in fact— have only the readings
of fellow writers to blame for each
other's blending of creative impulses,

that during these miraculous,
yet humble birthings of verse—

i have it now on good authority,
that we all could possibly exist
within this capacity

                                      as mere equals...



"The Lanyard of Amateur Poetry"
© 2020 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved


.

I miss(ed) you
the girl with black hair
who loved the blue sky
and breathed in fresh air

I miss(ed) you
who had no cares in the world
who came home to no worries
in her mother's arms she curled

I miss(ed) you
who lived as a child
when friends gathered round
born free and wild

I miss(ed) you
who had innocent eyes
who dreamed of fairies and mermaids
and didn't worry and sigh

I miss(ed) you
who didn't cry when things were tough
who held hope and beauty within
who didn't fake a laugh

I miss(ed) you
who wasn't stressed day and night
who could hug her parents close
whose days shone bright

I miss(ed) me
what happened to the years
I miss(ed) mom and dad
when their eyes didn't fill with tears

I miss(ed) me
it's hard leaving you behind
it's hard leaving young mom and dad
it's hard not looking back

I miss(ed) me
I miss(ed) coming home
I miss(ed) dreaming
I miss(ed) loving

I miss(ed) me.

My mother’s addiction is a shapeshifter—
It takes on so many forms it’s rumoured
that nobody knows its true face
It’s a master of disguise
it hides itself behind thin lipped smiles
and tired eyes—
It changes so often it’s hard to tell
if it ever recycles old forms
I frequently ask myself if I would
recognize her if I did not have her eyes
If we didn’t share a body for 7 months
would I know the sound of her heartbeat
even when she’s disguised as a dragon
—sober is the shape she fails to hold the longest
the edges between make believe and reality
blur almost as quickly as they form
It’s easier to be a flame than still water
so she burns down everything in her path

At home we don’t dare say the word addiction
we walk on eggshells like her cover will crumble
at the slightest vibration from the floorboards
—we glide through the hallways like spirits
there’s no need for a haunting here
ghosts already roam in the walls
you hear wailing more often than silence—
I’m beginning to think Halloween is my favourite holiday
because it’s the one day of the year
people can look into this haunted home
and they don’t judge me for what they see
behind closed doors
—I’ve never been one for haunted houses
but maybe it’s because I’ve been living in one
for 22 years without a break
I wish to escape from my own house of horrors
so why would I pay to enter somebody else’s
Instead I put on devil horns
and watch movies where there’s always a final girl
wondering if it would be worth my soul
to make a deal with the devil
so my mom can stop shapeshifting
so my brother can sleep at night
so I can finally breathe, even just for a moment

—my mother’s addiction is a shapeshifter
I hope someday soon I can see what she truly looks like
I have been living with a stranger for so long
I’ve forgotten what it feels like to recognize
the people you love

I found a girl who embodies the galaxy
her soul is made up of stardust
and I have never seen anything
more breathtaking

Her lips are made of the Milky Way
and when she kisses me it tastes
like summer nights and nostalgia
sunscreen and orange creamsicles
—when she cups my face with her hand
it’s a tenderness my body has never known
and sometimes it scares me just how
gentle a person can be
when they have the universe inside of them
but I know she’ll never hurt me
as long as the stars glimmer each night
her soul will be full of sunshine by morning

With constellations eyes she looks at me
and I forget there was ever a time
where she was not in my life
because I feel like I’ve known her forever

So maybe we were created
from the same star
the universe is a hopeless romantic
that loves a happy ending
so I’m hoping I get mine
the same way I hope that she stays happy
when she see cotton candy skies
as the sun sets and I’m greeted
by the galaxies inside of her

A woman was shot
in her own home.
A man could not breathe
and then he gave his last breath.

Do their lives mean nothing
due to their skin?
Or because the color blue
is the reason they're dead?

Thy creative mind is Divine.
It's winding paths, all spread and
growing, remind me of a grape vine.

Each path leading to a new notion.
In the wonderful scheme that is your
head, there is always a commotion.

They wonder, but don't observe and
ponder, why you always think.
They can't understand, especially with
their thoughts dripping out like a leaky
faucet in a kitchen sink.

Drip...drip...drip
While your thoughts are a waterfall,
running fast and heavy, giving the dull
people the slip.

Black and blue
Yet beneath that thin veneer of flesh runs streams of red
Red...just as human as you
Born with colour of a different shade
Always believing my colour to be my biggest shame
Dark skinned, my very existence a hateful sin
My days are spent with my head hung in fear and impotent rage
Keenly aware that I'm human but of a lesser grade

Black and blue
A symbol of justice and truth
Once in my youth I cheered for you
Now, jaded and old i turn my head and hide from you
Years of anger and persecution has made me shrewd

Black and Blue
The painful imprint you left on my skin after Karen's call came through
Despair, frustration, sorrow
In that moment, I feel all shades of blue
All this suffering because of the lies of Karen, that hateful shrew
This time I walk away with my life
Can't say the same about my wounded pride

Black and Blue
Blue, the colour of peace and harmony
That's what others see when they look at you
But with every wheezing breath my lips turn blue
Black creeps along the edges of my vision
Black and Blue, the colours of death
My lungs burst as they strain for that free breath of life
"I can't breathe"
I'm not allowed to.
After all, I'm not a human like you.