These years, they ask us questions answers that tomorrow never knows, held in the arms of yesterday. The weight of this dreaming pushes the clouds onto the ground and our fleeting conversations with this flooding rain breaks the boats we built that were already too unfit for this ocean between the clocks we build and the time we chase
sitting in traffic staring at a horizon of red thinking of her unintentionally
i dyed my hair again taking comfort in being able to look different looking different than when i fell for people that were just shells of bad decisions and **** people that gave me goosebumps because they were so cold but i used to mistake the chills for butterflies
i've been worried about repeating myself cycling around my bad habits like i'm on a ferris wheel that doubles as a perpetual motion machine but i haven't texted her in a few weeks so that must be a good sign still
i listen the playlists i made when i was so busy over thinking i didn't have time to do my fvcking laundry i wore her sweater for days on end and i hummed those songs under my breath and now the melodies just remind me of how starving i was laying in the bed of nails i made for myself and they remind me of her. always her. and how she never gave a **** about me, but somehow taught me to give a **** about myself. these stupid, beautiful songs remind me of how much i pretend to hate her. and they make me want to write poems about the idea of her again even though i swore i wouldn't. on several occasions. and so this poem isn't about her, or the idea of her, or the stupid playlists i was obsessed with when i called her mine
this one is about the horizon of red as i sit stuck in traffic, staring blurring my vision on purpose as the crimson lights move at the speed of my slowing heart trying. trying. trying. trying to forget about her, as i think of her unintentionally. trying to live in a world where people don't always mean the 'i love you's that so carelessly drip from their open mouths. trying to care about those people anyway and pretend that i don't. trying to love. trying to love myself. trying to write more poems in the first person as a form of self care. trying to figure out if that counts.
trying to not be so fvcking lonly all the time.
i wrote this in my notes app in the car. if you can't tell ****. drink water, love. and remind me not to romanticize being treated like **** <3
I thought we were once so close, knit together close enough to know what's it like, to be ghost to each other, yet wandering out into our own colourful way of life, just that we are chasing different colours now.
colours change, seasons change, people change, yet I remain the same.
We're chasing each other around the tree. The fox and me. Always just shy of catching the other. Sharpening our teeth on the air we each leave behind. You took the tip off my tail. And I ripped the hair out of yours. You're the reason my hairs turned white. It's the stress. And something else, something deeper, more profound. Something that gets me out of bed in the morning, but forgets to put me back to sleep in the evening. We've been running for weeks now. And we can't stop. I'm just waiting to see who drops first. I think it's going to be me.
Maybe I am following a light, A junction from where I took right Some days I'm just chasing a high, Is it just some words arranged tight Or is it chastising yourself through the night? For when the sun is shining bright, I love taking my emotions for a flight. I'm not hunting for any limelight, Nor do I have any foresight. I'm just driving through the misery and the plight, Knowing I will always stop at a red light Like a deer in the headlights I'm trying to be my self-guiding light, Try as I might.
Sometimes we don't even need a reason, but for days when the reasoning is strong, it must be upheld and respected. Cheers to all kinds of poets :)