I

You know

I wish I never knew you.

I wish I never loved you.

I wish I never saw you.

Before, I thought it was okay to hurt myself.
I said, "It's okay you can handle this."

I tried to get used to the pain.

But I realized
After a several weeks,

That handling was useless.

You were too much pain for me.

Hey,

I'm sorry I was ever in your life.

I'm sorry I ever urged my feet to go sit with you at lunch.

I'm sorry I ever met you

I'm sorry

I

I

I'm sorry I loved you.

sorry sorry~ sorry~ sorry~~ neka neka neka neka
Katie Read May 13

You weren't there when I needed you the most.
You who seemed to understand me the best.
You who matched the heart in my chest.

You weren't there when I needed you the most.

On the days that I felt like I couldn't breathe.
On the days that I cried myself to sleep.

You weren't there for me when I needed you the most.

Because you died.
And I'm sorry I was mad.

I left my heart naked to you,
handed it to you in the moonlight
and you ravaged it,
tore it to pieces and spat them on me.
But in your mind since you said sorry,
I should wipe my face and make the bed.

i come with baggage
more than i can hold, i pray
that you are stronger

Jay May 1

Maybe this doesn't matter at all
Especially because the way I may have treated you,
and maybe you'll never even see this,
but if you do,
I think that you should know some things.
I beat myself up a lot.
Fully responsible for the pain that you endured.
I think about you
outside
in the rain
in the gutter.
I notice you. Constantly.
In the back of my mind.
Something completely beautiful.
There's something gorgeous about the way the rain hides your tears.
About the way you look with wet hair.
I constantly want to go outside
and bring you in
and make you soup
and cocoa
and tea.
I want to help you get undressed
and dry you off,
changing into something,
soft and warm.
Safe.
I'll wrap you in a towel
and wrap you in my arms.
Tracing your figure gently,
like the road going home.
We'll construct a blanket fort.
And it'll be our secret castle.
Away from the world.
I see you shrinking.
I know that you are.
But maybe we could shrink down together
and make our fort an entire estate;
where I can make a memory with you
in each achre.
And when it gets cold,
we can scrimp and save,
and rent a dollhouse
for our summer home.
You wont have to worry
about other people seeing you sweat.
We'll close the blinds and draw the curtains
and stay naked-
vulnerable.
A place of our own creation.
You and me.
I think about the things we shared.
The late nights.
The secrets.
I always wonder how you are.
I long for you.
I crave your words like I crave
the nicotine, or the alchohol, or the abuse
that I need in order to
keep my thoughts off of you.
Sometimes I still think about it
because I'm crazy
and unfair-
jumping on a plane, I mean-
to expect you to be waiting for me on the other side.
I think about you all the time. Whether you believe me or not.
Or whatever you choose.
I dwell on you. I haven't stopped.
Like a near death experience.
The only thing that's ever really made me feel alive.
Completely whole.
Goddammit I think about  you all the time.
Forbidden fruit. Something I shouldn't be reaching out for.
I want to dress your wounds.
Take care of you when you fall.
Douse you in antiseptic
wrap your bandages
and seal each cut with a kiss.
I haven't stopped thinking about you at all.
There is something about the way your heart makes my heart flutter.
And the way your soul speaks beautiful perfect poetry to mine.
I'd also be a liar if I said I didn't think about staring into your eyes, or the way you smell like lilacs and honey, or the peaches and cream of your skin.
My favorite dessert.
Something that I indulge in.
I want to taste you.
Every last drop.
Warm saltwater
lemon juice,
birthday cake
life giving nectar.
I've held my lips against a rose petal,
unconsciously,
wishing it were you.
Dying for the real thing.
I miss your voice. A sweet song.
Deep lulliby.
The most humbling thing I've ever heard.
Thunder
the roar of the ocean
harsh winds
butterfly wings
bubbling brooks
gentle rains.
Perfection.
I long for you with my whole being,
and whether it means anything to you or not,
I still thought that you should know.

I mean every word. You know who you are.
I'm so sorry for everything. Even if we never speak again, know that I am sorry.
Grizzo Apr 12

I.
You always knew
the lies I've taught myself to believe
would never be good enough for him

We have the same smile
he is the last angel that can save
me

Love, I have no easy answers for you
I bury questions with every poem
but there is never enough dirt.

The ugliness behind our
pretty faces

burns holes
in the soul

and that's the first poem
I wrote about you that
wish I could burn
because I see myself
in your eyes and I wish
I could disappear from
the mirror

I don't
hate you.

I can't.

I
won't.

II.
my sweet Ollie,

your face looks like mine
you can see it in the eyes
especially when you smile

Have you discovered
children have a way
of noticing things
that are there,

seeing shapes
and shadows
that aren't?

There are monsters in the dark
but do not be afraid
I am there too.

I thought I
past the would,
could, should be

but there are no stars
in the sky and these
gnarled branches
won't give me release

and the future is the same as it always was

some things
cannot be hidden
cannot be undone
cannot be found
cannot be repaired

If I could still believe
in God and say a prayer
I would ask that he would read
these words you can't see yet

whisper them into your ear
so that with every heart beat
you have an answer for why we're
here

and one day
when you read this

know that I loved you
know that I missed you

There is still sunshine longing
to kiss your forehead

Don't sleep
until the day
is yours
and only yours.

My son, trust me
when I tell you,
there is nothing to fear
in the dark.

Fear the Heart.

BG-4/11/17

Carbon caked to barren
Feet walking on ash then
Dirt ran to water wash
The mess away, right
With grace, if anything at all

Fire forlorn fighting aphotic
Precedence set aside sticks
To burn set aside each other
As well birch bark wrap old
Wounds in words carved from
Apologies and cambium, if  
Anything at
All a semblance of sentiment perhaps
It’ll be found
Clinging to the wayward horizon

ConnectHook Apr 8

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Jane of the Jungle (she’s all good)
charmed our world as Darwin’s daughter.
Anglican primates notwithstood,
her leaky theories held some water.

Streams of ngombe, sacred cows
were celebrated. What were these
to which the simian cosmos bows?
Irrelevant hypotheses.

Selecting great apes (naturally)
Miss Misanthrope researched, with love;
her theories, stated factually,
were hailed as truth from God above.

Hoping for reason, shadowing Man
the graybeards came for tempting fruit
unaware of their part in the plan:
to be used, like tools (but more hirsute).

Termites on a slender stalk
delighted hungry primate souls.
Her ripe bananas were the talk
of primatological controls.

peeling off; mzungu starkness
starred the Tanzanian night.
Chimping out, she lit the darkness
claiming scientific right.

Sweating out the Tarzan fever,
naming names while hugging apes
let us, laughing, love and leave her
to her anthropoid escapes.

NaPoWriMo #8

King Kong was to film
as bananas are to fruit:
not yet deemed racist.
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