Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Genevieve Aug 2016
I keep looking for evidence that you were here.
Proof that once you shared this bed.
Some something embodying our shared time.
What I do find leaves me lost.

Three and a half pairs of socks.
Steak seasoning.
Aluminum foil.
Diet orange soda.
Hot sauce.

And, if you count them,
Notes I left for you.

Sometimes it feels like I dreamt it all,
Just like I'm dreaming you'll read these poems,
The only notes I can leave for you now.
Find them, and maybe I won't be so lost anymore.
Find me.
Genevieve Aug 2016
You'll be sitting on a step
Some party raging behind you
And you'll be contemplating walking home,
Or finding that girl from earlier
The one who tangled her fingers in your hair while you kissed,
When it'll happen.
A girl, maybe 18,
Will plop down beside you,
Purposefully skin to skin,
and she'll smile.

She'll pretend she's more drunk than she is
And you'll want to protect her.
Like always.
People will be looking for you,
The life of every party now,
Inside the house
But you won't care.
This girl will tell you she's got to walk home,
And you'll take her hand,
And tell her to lead the way.
She'll lean over and kiss you,
Just like she planned she would,
Just long enough to give you the right idea.

You'll stand up together
Wobbling just a little
And she'll start walking
And you'll keep pace and a lookout.
She'll glance at you,
Hunger in her eyes
Waiting to feed off the attention you wrap yourself in,
Like an otter in seaweed.

You'll become very aware of the condoms in your pocket
You might think about how you need to buy another box
As she's the fifth girl this month to take you home

Hungry for the fame
Hungry for the attention
Hungry for the talent
But not hungry for the you inside.
And you'll know it,
I hope.

Stay safe out there, love.
I'll remember.
And you'll keep falling in this nosedive until you hit the ground and shatter. Please, before this skydive becomes a suicide, remember your parachute.
Genevieve Jul 2016
You're about to reach terminal velocity
With the biggest grin on your face
Symbolically giving your dad the ultimate *******.
The only way you know how,
Plummeting to the earth like a raindrop

I mean, after all,
You are the rain.

But there you go
No fear, no anxiety,
Just weightlessness
For a few seconds, maybe more
How should I know,
I've never jumped out of a plane before.

If I know you at all,
You'll be thinking of him the whole way down.
Wish I could be there.
You'll be truly happy, if only for a moment
Because I know,
This is the last way to feel close to him anymore,
To flirt with death,
To peek through the curtains to the underworld,
To try to catch a glimpse, or maybe a shiver,
An impression of his essence, his soul.

You might even judge yourself for humoring such whimsy.
But don't you remember,
Those who shun the whimsy of things
Will experience rigor mortis before death.

So flirt with death if you must.
Do every stupid thing,
But please promise to come back.

Fight.
Purgatory was never meant to be your home.
Escape.
Don't relent when the maze locks you in.
Fight of your demons, love,
In whatever ways you deem necessary.
Live.

Wander back
And flash me that tortured half-grin.

*What do I think of that?
I think it could make the world a better place.
Skydiving, the ultimate '*******.' Reading Still Life With Woodpecker has me thinking a lot.
Genevieve Dec 2015
I always thought that the rain was yours
That she was calling to you as she fell from the sky
But I think now that I had it all wrong.
You are the rain.

You are satin, smooth, and sweet
You are turbulent, tortured and torrential
Darker, mysterious
I love listening to you as I fall asleep.

You make me feel safe,
Like I want to curl up in my bed,
Humming with warmth beneath the covers.

You are the rain.
Sometimes thunderous, sometimes twinkling
There is no sweeter song.
Bubbling, falling, dancing, tumbling, diving, pounding, anguished, and oh so sweet

You are the rain.

— The End —