#lorenzo - Hello Poetry

It’s evident that the person I thought you were exists entirely in my memory, on that comfortable blue couch in your old temporary apartment - 160 Morton, I still remember the address from when you bought 50 dollars worth of subway for delivery on your dads card because the 6 frozen pizzas you had bought on the monday weren’t enough to last you a week. The person I thought you were exists only on the second floor of the empty arts building, dancing and singing, on the picnic bench where I told you that you didn’t realize the effect you had on people, in that small campus and our trips to the nearby cities where we confided in each other and you sought my advice, i sought your comfort and the warmth of your hand gripping my shoulder when it was evident my own hands quivered and trembled. It’s evident that the person I thought you were exists merely in my memory - but that isn’t entirely fair to you, I guess. You’ve always been better lying on the couch, head in my lap, than answering your messages, weeks old and still unread. But still - does it hurt that much to even pretend you still care about me? (7 separate messages. It’s been a week. Only when I confront you do you apologize, tell me that you’ve been having a bad time.) (Explanation. Excuse. Explanation, not excuse. I thought we agreed on this.) My memory erases the blemishes on our record, the bad moments - a relapse, anger, your hands on her thighs, lounging on the beach yet still asking me to watch your shoes. Why can’t I be the ******* for once? It’s that emotion again, tenfold but dulled. I’m not angry, just disappointed. Maybe both. I don’t know. I never know when it comes to you.

0

Oct 31, 2023

Oct 31, 2023 at 10:21 PM UTC

badtzbot

Blue Couch

It’s evident that the person I thought you were exists entirely in my memory, on that comfortable blue couch in your old temporary apartment - 160 Morton, I still remember the address from when you bought 50 dollars worth of subway for delivery on your dads card because the 6 frozen pizzas you had bought on the monday weren’t enough to last you a week. The person I thought you were exists only on the second floor of the empty arts building, dancing and singing, on the picnic bench where I told you that you didn’t realize the effect you had on people, in that small campus and our trips to the nearby cities where we confided in each other and you sought my advice, i sought your comfort and the warmth of your hand gripping my shoulder when it was evident my own hands quivered and trembled. It’s evident that the person I thought you were exists merely in my memory - but that isn’t entirely fair to you, I guess. You’ve always been better lying on the couch, head in my lap, than answering your messages, weeks old and still unread. But still - does it hurt that much to even pretend you still care about me? (7 separate messages. It’s been a week. Only when I confront you do you apologize, tell me that you’ve been having a bad time.) (Explanation. Excuse. Explanation, not excuse. I thought we agreed on this.) My memory erases the blemishes on our record, the bad moments - a relapse, anger, your hands on her thighs, lounging on the beach yet still asking me to watch your shoes. Why can’t I be the ******* for once? It’s that emotion again, tenfold but dulled. I’m not angry, just disappointed. Maybe both. I don’t know. I never know when it comes to you.

8

If you ever go to college, for an interior design degree Don't be like my friend, Lorenzo, of high, and artistic, pedigree Decorate as you see fit, and know your clientèle Lorenzo never understood, living in, decoration hell In the back of his mind he knew, the classics always sell But somethings will never fit, no venue that's understood Decorating in plastics and vinyl, the critiques, never any good God bless him for the effort, never using slaughtered wood Gaudy and pretentious, and selling everywhere Mayhap in a million years, somebody then, will care

0

May 19, 2017

May 19, 2017 at 11:25 PM UTC

TemporalFugue

Do you hear the critics, Lorenzo?

If you ever go to college, for an interior design degree Don't be like my friend, Lorenzo, of high, and artistic, pedigree Decorate as you see fit, and know your clientèle Lorenzo never understood, living in, decoration hell In the back of his mind he knew, the classics always sell But somethings will never fit, no venue that's understood Decorating in plastics and vinyl, the critiques, never any good God bless him for the effort, never using slaughtered wood Gaudy and pretentious, and selling everywhere Mayhap in a million years, somebody then, will care

10

I am but a rose of beginning green, imprisoned to darkness all day, within a monumental fiend, who covers up the radiance that I want to give away Occasionally a small opening would be sewn into the darkness' fiery grasp and your pure radiance could be shown concealed in a kindhearted mask Share your light with me and for you I will light the way wrapped in an unfamiliar livery prepared for our intimacy till the end of our days We will cross waters on a homebound stretch and become fuel for our endurance, so beautifully etched I'll take my chances, following the sun the garden we grow means that together, we are one Share your light with me, and forever I will stay. my petals can become your livery we need each other, I daresay.

0

Jan 31, 2017

Jan 31, 2017 at 8:51 PM UTC

elise-t

Dear Lorenzo,

I am but a rose of beginning green, imprisoned to darkness all day, within a monumental fiend, who covers up the radiance that I want to give away Occasionally a small opening would be sewn into the darkness' fiery grasp and your pure radiance could be shown concealed in a kindhearted mask Share your light with me and for you I will light the way wrapped in an unfamiliar livery prepared for our intimacy till the end of our days We will cross waters on a homebound stretch and become fuel for our endurance, so beautifully etched I'll take my chances, following the sun the garden we grow means that together, we are one Share your light with me, and forever I will stay. my petals can become your livery we need each other, I daresay.

22