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claire Jun 2020
i've already started making a playlist in my head. we're going to throw our bags on the bed, slip on our suits, and run to the water as fast as possible. we're going to sleep in braided, burnt arms and wake up with salty lips. we're going to know the feeling of chilled sand at night. we're going to get wine-drunk and hold each other's faces with tired, tender hands. we're going to get ****** and eat funnel cake on the boardwalk late at night. and in one of those moments, accidentally-on-purpose, i'm going to let it slip. i'm going to say, "oops. i wrote another love song about you."
May 2020 · 99
claire May 2020
I'll take you to a museum
And show you my favorite paintings,
Then you'll grab my hand
And tell me I belong in those frames
please let me take you on a date to an art museum I promise it won't be boring
May 2020 · 79
claire May 2020
Lately I've been letting myself feel the sadness
instead of pushing it away
But I've also been dancing alone in my room a lot more.
The confused joy marbled with heavy grief comes from this new freedom -
Freedom I'm not sure I wanted.
why does everyone break up over Christmas break?
claire May 2020
in the back of my mind,
i know that if you asked,
if you said you'd try,
if we could find a way to stick together,
i could fall in love with you again.
it feels comfortable again, more than before, because I'm being more myself this time. I've figured out what I want from this.
May 2020 · 89
claire May 2020
I want to be in a field, or on a beach
It doesn't matter the landscape
Just as long as I'm under a blanket with my love
Big, blinking eyes
Warm from the irises out
A drip with each flicker of the lid
Wavy arms around waists
Apr 2020 · 75
december - march
claire Apr 2020
pretend i'm spring
something to be excited about
something that brings the breeze
and the honeysuckle
i'll pretend you like the warm weather
just when I was getting over you
Mar 2020 · 58
claire Mar 2020
aren't they beautiful; all the bits we hold onto?
the smell of patchouli and the humour of a gold hoop earring -
a blue sequin dress and a tickle in your palm-
a waltz in the driveway and the silhouette of a tweed cap -
inky fairy wings and words written in the clouds when we need them most -
these empty spaces are electrically charged;
this is the art you leave behind.
this is how we remember you
Mar 2020 · 233
sweet girl
claire Mar 2020
in and out of the rain
in and out of the red
up and over your shoulders
out and under my hips
kiss me like i'm the sweetest
thing on earth
touch me like you're
not afraid to break me
Nov 2019 · 305
i am a real doctor
claire Nov 2019
open your eyes wide, i'll slip through the blue crystal windows
and hug your headache until you’re comfortable.
loosen your brain, love, let me carve a seat in your skull.
i’ll comb all the knots out and knit you back up.
unlock your ribcage, let me into that ice chest.
i’ll brighten your dark rooms with glowing red lights,  
nearly hot enough to burn through skin.
take off your t-shirt, i’ll sharpen your shoulders
to protect you from the harvesters who take your tender organs.
up the throat, behind the mouth, i’ll climb out, close your eyes.  
you’ll never know i was here.
Nov 2019 · 231
claire Nov 2019
it was practically a road trip - one hour there, one hour back, just to see me every week.
when you'd come to my house and have dinner with my family, i felt normal - isn't this what most teenagers do? teasing and winking and spilling ketchup on the patio - blood red sticking to stone.
when i'd go to your place, there would be sun in my eyes until we reached the cool of the basement. we played video games and didn't eat and drifted in the empty parking lot - isn't this how most girls feel? unbothered and unsure and wishing for your word - irises sticking to silhouettes.
when you'd bring me home, i would hope for the hour to last forever, that playlist to never end. isn't this how it should be? you and me and no one else - sticking to one another.
Nov 2019 · 188
claire Nov 2019
being in love is
a hot shower.
cascading and turning your skin red.
cold when you
step out.
shower thoughts
Oct 2019 · 293
night poet
claire Oct 2019
I'm thinking about you right now because I couldn't possibly think about anything else.
I'm in a black and white movie and I can hear all the clashing going on behind the scenes
There's loud chords that feel like they are being plucked on my heartstrings because I can see the vibrations moving all the way through me,
through the insulation of my army green jacket that you gave me in the summer.
And it's ridiculous to me how this little fly on the table has no idea what's going on, isn't a part of anything I'm experiencing.
Black and white movie with cold orange lights.
Oct 2019 · 178
claire Oct 2019
I am content with the rain
I am content with the falling leaves
I am not content with the
Empty space
I am not content with my
Empty hands
When my heart is full of you
Oct 2019 · 315
slide stairs
claire Oct 2019
rotted and fresh,
leaves fused together
by mud slip.
mottled carpet
Aug 2019 · 170
growing pains
claire Aug 2019
When I was young
I wanted a canopy bed
They say seeing is believing but
I thought that not seeing was the same as
Believing you were safe

When I was young
I feared house fires and
Losing my mom in the aisles
But now I know she'd always come back to find me
No matter the flame

I'm blind on the way home
All I see are glowing golden arrows
All I hear are growling stomachs
All I feel are these growing pains
I pause on the way home
Only turn on when my ears are covered
This is over, this is over

When I was young
I searched for people like me
But it was impossible when I didn't know myself
Now I've collected a few
Enough for my two narrow hands to hold

When I was young
We took family pictures
Now there's vacancies
And I've learned that growing up is
Skipping changes and missing birthdays

I'm blind on the way home
All I see are glowing golden arrows
All I hear are growling stomachs
All I feel are these growing pains
I pause on the way home
Only turn on when my ears are covered
This is over, this is over

We are over, this is over
a reflection on change, especially the change from child to adult.
Aug 2019 · 232
claire Aug 2019
if i died tonight, would you miss me?
would you say nice things at the funeral
and tell people i had a beautiful soul
or would you tell them that my thoughts were troubled
and you helped to calm the waters

would you tell them i died too young
or would you say that i had plans for living
would you say how i always looked on the bright side
or would you explain that i had a dark side
only you could see

would you recall the memory of the day we met
or would you tell them the pieces we shared
talk about the first time we kissed
or the first time you asked if i was okay

if i died tonight, i'd want you to be honest
just don't give all the good parts away
thinking about what people would say about me if I died right now. especially one person, who knows me better than almost anyone. wondering if they would gloss over my rough bits and paint me as a blank angel-fairy child.
Jun 2019 · 88
claire Jun 2019
he kisses my cheeks, my nose, my fingers, my shoulders
scattered like raindrops
the loveliest feeling to be cared for like this
Jun 2019 · 193
claire Jun 2019
a little mouse (remy)
a koala
a troll doll
and wicked pretty
Jun 2019 · 288
claire Jun 2019
With you, I don't constantly search my notes on small-talk
Everything you say seems big,
Even if its actually something stupid
Jun 2019 · 482
private playlists
claire Jun 2019
i can't believe i have to ******* leave you
i wanna cancel all my plans and stick to you like a fly on the wall
listening for words that mean you'll miss me as much as i know i'll miss you
so i make private playlists and cry on sundays and just hope that i make you fall in love with me before september comes
Apr 2019 · 552
claire Apr 2019
She is unshakeable as she carries her kingdom,
Widowed shoulders gracefully bearing its weight

A tempestuous force brings the towers crashing down around her
Fires flare in every corner and she is trapped but does not care
Brick by brick, she is undone

She is infected with love,
Given over to the sickening appetite
That consumes promises and offers emptiness

She is used up and tossed aside in the name of fate
Her fate - to die by her own hand

And the tempest continues its raging path
Mar 2019 · 200
claire Mar 2019
my soul is like a basement
you don't see the rats
until they're scared out hiding
but they've been there all along
Mar 2019 · 179
claire Mar 2019
he's falling in love with my smile
while i'm memorizing his eyes

he's falling in love with my quips
while i'm memorizing his voice

he expects me to stay
I want him to last
Dec 2017 · 175
claire Dec 2017
every sad song reminds me of you
every love song reminds me of you
that's really all you need to know
about our relationship

every passing couple reminds me of you
every lonely night makes me want you
that's really all you need to know about us

every clipped response made me feel lost
every picture i wasn't in made my eyes flood
that's what you should have known
about me
Dec 2017 · 401
claire Dec 2017
tell my why i still miss you
why it's been months since you held me
and i still can't help tearing myself apart
every night
searching for whatever you saw in me
that you ran away from

tell me why i still want you
why i can't help remembering
your hands on me
holding; sweetly, possessively
resting my head on your shoulder
and you leaning yours on mine

i thought we fit like that
tell me why we don't
May 2017 · 242
claire May 2017
i have reheated my tea 20 times today
I have misplaced my pencil 58 times
I've written approximately 8,000 words
In the past 3 hours
I've bitten the nails on 4 fingers and
It's currently 11:35
I will probably get 1 hour of sleep
Before the alarm screams at 7:00
May 2017 · 368
claire May 2017
she writes and writes,
notebook paper fluttering like delicate feathers.
she writes like there is a famine of words
and she is starving.
she leans over the desk,
her back curving like a fern, tap tap tap
on the keyboard all day long
and into the night
May 2017 · 336
All Summer Long
claire May 2017
She is draped over the chair like an expensive rug
Her fingers dangle gracefully over the edge
The sun has finally returned
And announced itself as only a sun can;
Brightly and warmly
The weight of its rays press her down into her seat
She should get up, she has so much to do
But summer tends to bleed the urgency out of you
So she stays, humming tunelessly,
Until the light sleeps.
Apr 2017 · 810
The Illness Code
claire Apr 2017
There are so many defective computers,
Their cable cords tangled and fraying.
We don't know if we should fix their screens
Or turn off all electronics thirty minutes before bed.
We fear that their corrupted microchips
Will pass on their viruses
And steal our identities.
So we upgrade and receive a shiny new machine,
Content to let the fractured ones
Corrode in a dusty repair room,
Their helpless tones growing fainter
I wanted to experiment with using a metaphor and very plain language to write about something big and dark. I chose to express my thought about mental illness with a computer metaphor. Mental illness is gradually becoming a less taboo topic, but it still is ignored by a lot of people. We can't support our loved ones and friends who suffer this way if we ignore their signals because it makes us uncomfortable. Do what you can, be aware.
Apr 2017 · 1.0k
Small Giant
claire Apr 2017
I sometimes feel suffocated.
There isn't enough fresh air in the world
To help me breath deeply.
One inhale and it would all be used up.
I could drink all the oceans and
Melt the glaciers
And my head would continue to throb
From dehydration.
I look around and I am a giant.
The earth isn't vast enough.
When I stand, my head hits the ceiling.
I want something grander.
I want to hold one long, loud note
Until the vibrations cause earthquakes.
Break through the earth-ceiling
And find myself in outer space.
I won't feel claustrophobic there.
Mar 2017 · 321
claire Mar 2017
if my mirror could talk,
she'd tell me I'm here too much
and she would be right
Mar 2017 · 1.0k
In Rememberance of Morality
claire Mar 2017
I'll never understand how they live with themselves.
They condemn death only when it suits them.
They judge those who speak their minds
While embracing a nation of child-killers.

I'll never understand how they live with themselves.
Sleep must be hard to come by when you
Endorse the murders of millions of children
With no more thought than a gardener pruning a pesky ****.

I'll never understand how they live with themselves.
They extinguish the fragile flames of would-be daughters and sons
And explain that this heinous crime is
Not only acceptable, but essential.

I'll never understand how they live with themselves.
It must be nearly impossible to stand up straight
When the burden of innocent lives swings from your shoulders.
Death is so heavy, even if the souls are small.
An elegy for unborn babies. An elegy for morality.
Mar 2017 · 343
treasure words
claire Mar 2017
i collect them like some people collect buttons
jotting each one on whatever i can find
a scrap from a brown paper bag or a napkin
i'll forget them if i don't

i write endless lists of them
string them together and let them dangle like daisy chains
search for them on globes and in dictionaries
saving them for the perfect moment,
when they fit into place so perfectly
it makes my heart ache
i love good words
Mar 2017 · 273
Writer's Block
claire Mar 2017
I can't think of anything, once again
The bottleneck in my brain dilutes every scheme
I close the book, then count to ten
The idea slips off the precipice and I could scream
A poem about writing a poem. In quatrain stanza form, with an "a b a b" rhyme pattern.
Feb 2017 · 579
Dear Joe
claire Feb 2017
You left me stranded that summer.
I came to you with a smile, expecting one in return
But you handed me contempt and rejection.
It stuck to my hands, so I carried it with me.

I thought you saw something in me that you couldn't stand,
Something rotten that hadn't been there before.
I tried clawing it out.
I tried to change myself to bring you back.
I wondered if you realized how much you'd damaged me.
Or if you cared.

I finally realized it wasn't my fault.
That my hands were stained from helping you up countless times,
Not from my own soul.
It was your choice to make me feel small.
But now I've washed my hands of you.
this is about someone i thought was my friend, who suddenly ignored me and made me feel horrible about myself. he caused me so many tears, and so much anxiety, because i didn't understand why he hated me when i hadn't even  done anything. i was fragile and insecure and he took advantage of that, whether purposefully or not, i don't know. i've gotten over him mostly, but i still don't know what happened. it feels strange to think that this event was so monumental and traumatizing to me, while in his life, it may have constituted a tiny bump in the road. does he even remember me?
Feb 2017 · 362
what's out there?
claire Feb 2017
a presence
called God, spirit, mother nature,
the universe, fate, karma
in the earth or creating it
some believe they are all one
some believe in only one
some believe in none
that we float aimlessly, hopelessly
our course uninterrupted and without destination
those who believe are visitors here
leaving an imprint, but not a footprint
they act like magnets,
attracting those with open hearts
sometimes i think we are all the same pole
and their faith
repels me
Feb 2017 · 318
30 miles from the mountain
claire Feb 2017
30 miles from the mountain
How can something so large
Hide so completely
Shrouded only by water vapor?
30 miles from the mountain
Not far, but endless soldier trees
Stand between us and
We will never meet.
30 miles from the mountain
Feels like the distance
Between my thoughts and my mouth
The fog sinking in my throat,
Choking the urgency out of me.
Every muffled, belated word weighs 30 tons
30 miles from the mountain
I haven't slept through the night
In 30 days
The mist closes in
I want to hide like the mountain
in seattle, washington
Feb 2017 · 686
the heat and the cold
claire Feb 2017
my face is too hot
my hands are too cold
a manifestation of the confusion
taking place inside of my head

i deserve better
i spend all of my time
trying to please them

what do i get in return?
distrust and disarray
what would i give up
to make this go away? i'd give
the heat and the cold

take both, it doesn't matter
not to me, not to them

i'm on guard all the time
if i let my smile slip
they think i'm depressed

if i smile too much
they think i'm hiding something

what would i give
for a plastic smile?
i'd give up my emotions
what would i give up
to make this go away? i'd give
the heat and the cold

take both, it doesn't matter
not to me,
not to them
written in about five minutes when i was really angry. maybe not my best work, but it made me feel better.
Jan 2017 · 380
claire Jan 2017
practice, more practice
then the next time you sing high
you'll hit the right note
feeling a bit frustrated after my voice lesson, taking it out on this poor haiku
Jan 2017 · 492
claire Jan 2017
Calm, broad strokes of blue
Slowly fill the pristine page
Shades of cool color
Jan 2017 · 266
e c l i p s e
claire Jan 2017
two knees touch the floor
two hands clasp, fingers bleed white
her hopeless prayer begins
all the words escape from her
and she begs them to return
heartbeat stops, caught on a
rending sob
the prayer drawn from her throat
like a string pulled skyward, it's fate obscured
behind the blackened moon
inspired by the piece "a model of the universe" by johann johannsson
Jan 2017 · 339
claire Jan 2017
My eyelids shut, my mind begins to race
The thoughts I've pushed away unveil themselves
My mind has a mind of its own

One million thoughts are keeping me from sleep
They bloom and burst behind my blackened lids
My mind has a mind of its own

Welcoming the faded pictures, gray and soft around the edges
The pulses shrink to glowing flickers
My mind drifts off on its own
first poem in (sort-of) iambic pentameter
Jan 2017 · 1.4k
my word is hope
claire Jan 2017
to hold hands with the future undaunted
to grow taller and reach, reach
farther and faster than i thought possible
to make a truce with my gripping fears
and leave them behind
to instead embrace the unfathomable
to turn the corner
instead of turning to stone
exercise: expressing a feeling without using the word
Jan 2017 · 227
claire Jan 2017
you've seen me
at my best
you've seen me
at my worst
you've seen
what I've gained
you've seen
what I lost
losing a friend didn't matter as much as
losing myself
and then I found both
*at the same time
Jan 2017 · 333
cardigan of many colors
claire Jan 2017
frayed ropes of blue, green, red and violet
knotted together
keeping me safe from the world
cracked sunflower buttons fastened
against the autumn breeze
holding your hand
as i crunch through the brittle leaves
i will treasure it forever
because woven between the strands
are lilting memories that transport me
to a time before overthinking
and unnecessary words
when the only thing to worry about
was tying my shoes
and kissing you goodnight
Jan 2017 · 550
Wake Up
claire Jan 2017
Steam curls from the cup
My cozy morning habit
Sip after hot sip
Jan 2017 · 543
The Day After Christmas
claire Jan 2017
I crouch under the covers
Reluctant to come into the harsh light
The cat's tongue rasps on my hand
The jarring alarm chants and honks his tune

I stumble and stub my toe
Leftover wrapping paper cracks under me
Stale smells sulk and bite the air
Cookie crumbs left from last night's massacre

I grit my teeth when the bell clangs
Cold snaps at my nose when the door opens
Too many people enter
I really hate the day after Christmas

— The End —