"almosts" poems
what my forays into online dating offered me that wasn’t s*x; european coffee beans, a film camera from the 70s, a workshop on ceramics, chicken parmagiana, bottles of blueberry lemonade, thai food that isn’t spicy, help with calculus homework, notes on gen chem, all the Star Wars movies, a book about magic: the gathering, a ride to an nba game, museum visits, nature walks, impulsive road trips, stories about their exes, silly anecdotes, photos of their pets, quality memes, awkward hugs that felt good.
such small intimacies, never blossoming into something bigger yet still imbued with meaning..
filled with what-ifs, if-onlys, and almosts.
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 10:32 PM UTC
When did Wishes become as commonplace as pennies in Fountains?
When did Unicorns stop dreaming?
In a place where Unicorns can Dream
And Stars are Paths
And Fat Orange Cats are Sullen Irish Dancing Potatoes
With Biscuit Legs and Waterfall Eyes
With an Everything complex
Due to feeling the Absence of all
Whilst having felt an overwhelming Nothing
And Ant Butt's full of Honey and Air
Pirouette and bend their slim Amber eyed head backwards
To see such hopeless Unicorns Dreaming of
Trollops and Almosts who don't know what Mermaids are
Mermaids that only Sing Underwater
And watch Sullen Irish Dancing Potato Boy
With Biscuit Legs and Waterfall Eyes
And an Everything complex
Because Garfield can't figure out
If Fat Orange Cat is okay with loving Selfish Harlot Mermaid
Or not
Maybe we should all just stay Honey-Eyed Harlots
And Hero Twin Flames
Maybe the penny can be a Wish
And the Star's dust pathways
And Unicorns can see black instead of Dreams.
Mar 19, 2012
Mar 19, 2012 at 9:05 PM UTC
My dream girl found a lover
She speaks of him in rhyming lines
the joy she feels dancing between every heart shaped syllable,
thumbing it's nose at my breaking heart.
My dream girl found a lover
the deal was sealed with a rain soaked kiss
and hands that fit just-so.
A love tightly bound,
according to her rose tinted ink.
My dream girl found a lover
I hope he hears the fragility in her sighs
over the beauty that radiates when her smile crinkles her nose,
for that alone can distract a man from the sound of breaking.
My dream girl found a lover
to mend her broken heart,
a coveted position filled.
Leaving me forever dreaming
of almosts and half smiles.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 4:12 PM UTC
Don’t fall for me,
simply because
I will turn your kisses into similes
kissing you is like watching a sunset; slow, and beautiful.
Don’t tell me you love me,
simply because
your words will form metaphors in my mouth
you are a thunderstorm my heart is not ready for.
Don’t fall for me,
simply because
I am selfish,
every breath you take, every word you speak
*I will find a way to turn that into a composition of letters and sounds
for my own purpose.*
Don’t try to be with me,
simply because
I will try to trap you with my words
every space in my broken sentences will be filled with thoughts of you.
Stay with me,
I’ll turn your existence into a poem
stay with me,
I’ll engrave your name into my verses
stay with me,
stay with me,
stay with me,
so I don’t have to turn my heartache into a poem of sorrow once again.
I have not felt at ease with the world in a while,
but that has changed,
simply because
you are my world now
*everything I do,
I do for you.*
So this is a warning;
don’t fall for me,
simply because
I am a thief who is good with words,
*I will steal your love
and turn it into stories of malignancy and almosts.*
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 8:17 AM UTC
i have so many thorns in my body, that i forgot all the places i've been bleeding. you bleed me out, you can. and that's okay.
i'm aching. i ached to taste you and i still ache,
but the question is, would you
even wait long enough to let me have the chance?
to be waiting and being disappointed by a bitter fruit
or waiting and never finding out the sting.
i'm not sure what is worse.
is it possible to drown before
you take a dive into the
deep end of the pool?
or is the self pity the pool itself?
does weakness constitute
as a fabrication for other people's flaws or
is it simply a plan that failed to start?
i know my blind sides, but i've had so many
bittersweet "almosts" and close enough "maybes"
that heartbreak has become my favorite flavor.
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 8:42 PM UTC
1/17/10
dopesick boy
make me dope sick
his black in the blue
eyes vanish
he vanishes
the skeletal frame
of his guitar
& all the almosts
that got shot
cause he shot up
the broken window in time
the self steams out of in
the night
his black & blu eyes
pinned
pinned wings in a glass
case
another face
wings evaporate
dust where a boy once sat
holdng my hand in love
Jan 20, 2010
Jan 20, 2010 at 3:22 PM UTC
she was wearing soft red lips
and blue eyes as deep as the ocean
and a shirt that read “THIS WILL DESTROY YOU”
and you should’ve known then but it was already too late
too late
too late
and you were already moving, already in motion
she made her darkness shine like gold.
she was wrapped in silk and satin
that would have burned you if you tried to touch
and she was sitting by a window
waiting for you.
she wanted to keep her sadness close
and her vastness open.
she didn’t understand what it meant to be the moon
and you should’ve known then but it was already too late
and you were already moving.
she was a wolf, she said
and her knowledge could eat you
alive.
you, on the other hand
have always been a deer.
she spoke with a voice of lush and luxury
and wore her jacket over her shoulders
on the first day of spring.
her enigma was thrilling
and she scared you
almost to death
but not enough to make you leave.
she had hands of ice
and the breath of heartbreak.
she still remembered how to laugh
however cynical.
she was just as lost and dismembered as anyone else
but knew how to hide it
among sharpened knives
and glasses of red wine.
she loved the thought of drowning
but yearned to be saved
and asked you for help.
she let you in
but she was a self-proclaimed goddess
with secrets deeper
than your lungs.
she was water
and you have always been air
and you should’ve known then but it was already too late
and you were already moving.
the whole time you moved within one word
and that word carried you to places she never could:
chance.
she tried to warn you
she knew she couldn’t be the person you loved
yet somehow you still did
somehow you still did
(she) did still you, somehow
somehow you still did.
it was already too late
late too, already, was it?
it was already too late.
before you even met her
before you even saw her turn around in that coffee shop
before her smile
before her accent reached your ears
before your arms touched
before she read her writing to you
before she opened
before she placed her hand on your back
before you watched her walk away down the dark city street for the first and last time
before you met the body behind the screen, you did
you loved the words.
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 1:04 AM UTC
I want to cash in on the last 7even years
of being your friend
And—I wish I could collect
the almosts—
save for a maybe
let me redeem the maybe's for a
this time
—this time
Okay, lets try it.
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 4:15 AM UTC
How many almosts and goodbyes
are there in a lifetime?
Life is too short they always say, so live it to the fullest.
But each silent farewell kills me a little inside.
You don’t know how many times I’ve died in this lifetime.
How many laughs will escape my lips,
how many I love you’s shall I say
in my one lifetime?
Because every time I do, I remember to breathe
and from death of a thousand cuts, I begin to heal.
Apr 12, 2022
Apr 12, 2022 at 7:30 PM UTC
I see straight lines
Binding giant rectangles to collapse
On the nature of what's below
Endless copies
Animals of asexual, mechanical, foreign disposition
I don't think I know what it means to be solid
To be perfect
But as much as I love almosts
and innocence
They're telling me to grow up now
To find a rectangle to waste away in
But my ghost wasn't meant to be form-fitted
I wasn't meant to be cubic.
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 2:31 PM UTC
I found an old sweatshirt of yours under my bed yesterday,
and I spent the day crying over a box of your memories
that I don't have the courage to throw away.
The days pass by at the speed of light,
but nights are spent endlessly heaving out old promises
of children we will never have,
of places we will never go,
or lives we will never share.
You left without a goodbye
and I convince myself that closure is what I need.
But somewhere behind my cobweb covered heart and dusty bones,
I know I really just need you again.
I built my flimsy paper home within your ribcage
and I saw you had a lit match balanced between your fingertips,
but I stayed.
Because I knew going in that this game was dangerous,
and I was willing to risk it all for the idea of you.
When the walls came down,
I frantically reached for some solitude to hold onto.
My hands clawed at the inferno looking for your familiar relief,
but all I found was ash.
Because that's all you really left in your wake:
black ash that thickly coated my insides,
suffocating me until the last molecule of air
exited my exhausted body.
Despite all this,
I still hold onto
the tragic memories,
the series of dismantled almosts.
The silence is crippling,
and the idea of what could've been,
plays painfully across my fragmented memories.
"You're simply extraordinarily ordinary."
This is my final goodbye.
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 11:02 PM UTC
"There is no poetic beauty in pain."
I am learning this slowly.
My hands still shake when it's past 2 in the morning
and breathing isn't easy most nights.
I am not poignant with my words
and some days it's hard to get out of bed.
This is my adolescence:
A tangled mess of dismantled almosts
and empty promises scribbled messily on the back of restaurant napkins.
It's stolen kisses in sleepy coffee shops,
failing chemistry,
driving recklessly,
and staying up late on lonely nights to watch the sunrise.
There are days where I'm convinced life shines
with a brilliance unknown to me,
so I continue on and live for those days.
Those days where breathing comes a little easier and I remind myself
that everything happens for a reason.
I hope you find these days where all you know is basked in a vibrance you've only read about.
Live for those days.
Live for me.
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
I once had a dream
Of thousands of faces
All of me
Along the sea
Each one had an idea in her head
And a pure beat to her heart
But one by one they started falling into the sea
Whether push or jump I watched me
Drowning in forgotten love, almosts, and could have been
Melting away into the night at the worlds end
Many a book could have been wrote
Many a dollar could have been made
Many things lost in blue
Thrown in by family, lovers, liars, thieves, and friends
Cast aside by fakers acting as kin
Some just couldn't take it and tossed themselves in
Drowning in what could have or should have been
Then there was one
She was older now than the rest
She had walked many miles
Carried her heart heavy but strong in her chest
She had lived
And she had learned
What is right
And what is always wrong
She alone could withhold the sea from engulfing what was left of me
She came forward
She is as I was
She is what I will be
She is what I am
She is what I needed so desperately to see
No words were spoken but I understood what she meant
I see the woman she was and the woman I could be
She looked back as she headed forth into the sea
She didn't sink she didn't swim
Only floated away from me
And then I awoke and looked into the mirror
And the face in the glass wasn't the same as before
Green eyes, sparkling smile, creases, hair curly and beautiful.
Older and wiser
Young and ready
The strength in the woman I am within
My light that has always shown through
Even amidst the darkest of night
Will always be true
To me to them to you
That girl I used to be was innocent
She was beaten and used
Her voice was too weak
That girl is just a memory
The rebirth of a powerful woman
I am transforming from my cocoon
Raising my voice high
Spreading my wings as far as can be
There a little sore
But you can only know true love when you understand pain
I am happy
I am altruistic. And that's ok.
my dreams awakened the butterfly in me
Time has put the girl to rest
To drown in the sea
Future has awoken the woman
To capture the ocean
Set her soul free
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 7:56 AM UTC
i tried to lay our kisses to rest today
but when i covered them with dirt
and looked to see that they were away
i realized nothing disappears
that never existed
and the fantasy proves to be
as ephemeral as you let me believe you
and this is how it goes
following the "almosts" of my life
that stripped of my optimism
were never in the cards
and my naivety hides
reality that knocks on my door
a trait hard to shake
or snap out of when you feel
so strongly for someone
and want only for them
to pat down the pit you dug
and reassure you it need not re-open
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 7:17 PM UTC
this is not about you
and I am done writing about you because all you really ever were was 3,000 almosts that never meant anything in the end
I'm not writing about how much I love you anymore but about how much I absolutely loathe your menacing brown eyes that glitter and gleam with fire
I'm not writing about how beautiful you are but how terribly rotten you are
to the very core
I'm not writing anything about you anymore at all because that is exactly what you want from me
I feed your ego
you never loved me
you just loved the
attention
and this is not about you.
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 8:43 PM UTC
I almost wrote a poem
saying it would be
the last one
I ever write for you.
I almost meant it.
But I reside in a forest of words
I long to lay upon your feet.
You are the only tenant.
Though I have already seen you hunger
for a wood more abundant with beauty.
You yearned
for the abstract; the colorful.
This is where I failed you, love,
for all I have to offer
is the pattern of my handwriting
against a bleak sheet of paper.
How is that to contest
a canvas
that turns heads
with its baby pinks and powder blues?
So I lay here
in the woods
that swarm with lost things,
longing to see the sun again.
And I am always reaching
and reaching
and reach i n g
But I am never quite there.
I lay still in the forest
with an abundance of almosts.
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 10:53 AM UTC
I pretend your name looks the same as the others
that your eyes don’t make my heart flutter
I pretend your words
aren't lines I’ll memorize tonight
that your smile isn’t a ray of sunlight
I’ll pretend to laugh at your jokes the same as the others
but with you, you make me see luminescent colors
What they say about red rose rims are true
and that’s not all I even feel with you
I sleep seeing daisies, dreaming about
ways you make me crazy
I smell orange blossoms everywhere by
Imagining that you simply care
I pretend that you are just another ***** page wedged inbetween the lost loves
the almosts
And the fakes
but
you’ve made pretending a dichotomy
a contradiction to the feelings I say
the truth is
my red rose rim glasses get brighter everyday
Feb 1, 2021
Feb 1, 2021 at 11:20 PM UTC
Echos and dreams met head-on with reality
collision-like
eye to eye it all came flooding back
the memory no longer a ghost
but standing in the flesh instead of fantasy
the years did nothing to quell the burning recognition of eternity
iris to iris
held there in time stopped
with the nagging sense of reality
calling back the senses
reality is a *****
and sure as hell is no friend of mine!
I wish I had forgotten
every detail faded in time
The glimmer flashed
only to burn the wick tracing each memory
through the years of Devine hope
soldered in eachothers hearts
and a myriad of almosts
now sat right beside me
and you and I pretended
we couldn’t remember each other’s names
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 9:34 PM UTC
i will always associate back flips
with my first "boyfriend" in the third
grade who has probably now grown
up to be the type of guy who takes
pictures of himself shirtless in the bathroom
mirror and tells his girlfriend that she's pretty
but not quite as pretty as he is.
i will always associate playgrounds
with my elementary school sweetheart
and hearing my favorite love song and
him walking five steps behind and defending
me when he thought i needed it.
i will always associate the rain
with wet tables and standing up
and laughing with friends and talking
and being wrapped in someone's arms
for the very first time and hearing "i missed you."
i will always associate "almosts" with the guy
i never really realized i wanted until it was too late
and seeing him walk around holding the hand of the
girl who wanted him when i didn't and seeing him kiss
her the way he wanted to kiss me once upon a time
and with ******** up really really irreparably bad this time.
i will always associate short time periods with the two weeks
when i belonged to someone I never expected to want,
when he kissed me like i mattered,
when he held me as though he would never let go
and then told me we should "take a break" and
come back to us when the "time was right."
and i will always associate happiness with these times
when i was loved and wanted and needed for just a little while
and believing for just a moment that i was special.
and you know what else?
i will always associate failure with the entrance of something better
i will associate failure with a narrow escape because if it were meant
for me to have then i would have had it but it's not so i don't.
i will always associate life with beautiful complications.
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 11:05 AM UTC
No. I cannot say that it's okay...i wanted to be the one to say that, but i let you in...let those scary unrehearsed parts of me dissolve into the dark of your three a.m. bedroom...allowing you to be close to me...believed in an us...trusted and had faith you wanted this, me...
No. i cannot say that i am okay...i came in looking for you to reject me... gave you every chance to take it back...constantly checking your temperature to see how much ground i stood upon, unsure if tomorrow was too uncertain for plans...your lips stamped reassurance on my forehead and hands tugged at my waist reeling me into your bed...
No. I cannot say that i understand...with you i felt joy and peace...you sliced through the silence with your early morning exhortations grieving for the pain you already knew you would deliver...raw passionate vulnerability...you ****** me so tenderly and moaned my name...smiled and met my gaze telling me your stories...i fell in love with who i am when i am with you and you cannot tell me why i won't feel that again...
No. you cannot tell me why you made a fool of me...connecting so completely disarming my heart with false pretenses...betrayed my self preservation and doubts to feel you closer to me...you watched me glow and giggle, sigh and shiver, kissed me long as if i belonged...as if to say "here's what you can't have,
lovely isn't it?"
No. I cannot be angry with you...i am aching with the salty sting of your tears as i held you to my breast...i do not want to hurt you or be painful for you...this is not who i am...i want to be the girl who lashes out with six hands and no hope to contain herself exploding into sobs when you say in cliche that you just want to be my friend...you told me when i just couldn't fall apart...
No. i cannot say that i will be the strong one...you will maybe talk to me a while out of guilt or self-esteem garnering reproach...and then disappear into the ether of somebodies i used to know...from whence you came...
No. you cannot tell me that i do not have a hole in my heart...dejected, replaceable, unlovable me...i doubt i'll ever know why, how you could do this to me...thought that i was coming home via chicago...traveled eight hundred and twenty three miles...you broke my everything down...
You are all those words left behind...the haunting almosts that were caught by my heart on their way to my mouth...
I am everytime you hold your breath... exercising patience and terror simultaneously...
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 10:09 PM UTC
Is there ever a greater melancholy
than permanent second?
Second best,
Second choice,
Second family.
All these things I am,
A second-hand human being.
No matter how hard and harder I try,
I remain inferior till I die.
A second-hand human being,
Not worth the greatest form of praising.
So as I stand above this bridge,
I recall all my 'almosts',
All my 'what ifs' and 'could haves',
To decide once and for all:
What if I jump a second time?
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 8:38 AM UTC
Purple Plush
it’s a me thing,
because of you.
There’s a once over glance now when they approach me.
Having to analyze them before they are allowed to speak.
soft,
the way you tainted me.
Slowly let the ribbons bleed out until I couldn’t stand by myself.
lavender lines painted on my walls,
attempting to soothe my innermost thoughts,
of you.
Of what we once were,
Plum lines dancing in an infinite sky.
These lavender lines fade now,
to be wrapped in silks, fine linens of serene purples.
it’s a me thing,
because of you.
There’s a slow cry in the background now,
a symphony of a dying plum, drifting into a lavender that consumes me.
it’s comforting,
the way your toxins brought me ease,
a plush love, a cocoon of decadent almosts.
What am I to do now?
When the plums are bruised and the lavender fields stop growing.
Nov 28, 2017
Nov 28, 2017 at 4:09 PM UTC