"fluctuated" poems
Rememeber how she loved you.
Remember how she smelled.
Remember the tiny hairs
on the back of her neck
and the way that she spoke
your name like you were
something special.
Remember how she laughed
at your poor-taste jokes and sewed
the buttons back onto your pants
when your weight fluctuated
all of those years.
Remember reading stories
to each other at night
and sharing your unorthodox thoughts
over a warm mug of something or other,
whenever she was into that sort of thing.
Remember driving miles to see her
and feeling like you'd never parted.
Remember sharing your insecurities
and your dark memories that you dare
not share with anyone else.
Remember how she never uttered judgement
in your direction even when you choked up
during those discussions.
Remember laughing.
Remmeber holding her.
Remember how she smelled
after a long stressful day
and how- to you- it smelt
sweet instead of sour.
Remember the sound of her voice
when she sang to you.
Remember when that same
"beautiful" voice cracked
when she would cry.
Remember making her cry.
Rmemeber the first time that your hands
forgot what a delicate little girl she was
when you struck her.
Remember her forgiving heart.
Remember the number of times
that you said "I'm sorry".
Remember the fire in your stomach growing
during those fights.
Remember how the love outweighed the issues.
Remember crying in each others arms
as you made up and held each other
so tight (it almost hurt).
Her smell.
Remember that.
Remember the first time that
you slept in seperate beds again,
like before there was an "us".
Remember waking up alone,
missing her.
Her smell.
Remember watching her pack her
things and walk out the door.
Remember how unreal it felt
and how you couldn't stop it.
Remember when words weren't enough anymore.
Remember why she walked away.
Remember trying to hold onto
the memory of her smell.
Remember how empty your
arms felt the night that
you couldn't remember anymore.
Take it all in.
Take some time to sit with it.
Now try to forget.
Try to forget how
much it hurts to
Remember.
Mar 22, 2021
Mar 22, 2021 at 2:52 AM UTC
All I want's a man
To take me out to coffee, that costs too much
Impulsive midnight Wendy's runs
With the alter ego of a natural bed of hair, of which
He is actually obsessed
And will look in anything reflective
Longs for the ocean
But doesn't spend a moment in the water
Wants the sun to warm his skin
But bathes in a bottle of SPF 80
'Cause he knows I'll warm him from within
I won't call our love hotter than the summer we spent
Our temperatures fluctuated faster than the seasons themselves
But we always dressed appropriately
Bundled or shed accordingly
Just to spend our time in the other's climate
Mid-day munchies conquer us both
In different states of mind
Let's hike somewhere
Let's sight-see
Spend somewhere out of your house
Let's take a run at Royal River
Lose hairpins you will keep
Let's spend each waking second together
And in our dreams, while we're asleep
Feb 12, 2012
Feb 12, 2012 at 10:29 AM UTC
It would take time
"Upon a promise"
I would never let you pass
Life
&
Death
Meant nothing as we were
Connected, what I had to do
Took conviction,
Loyalty,
Love,
Commitment
To keeping you within the living
"Blade Of Essence"
"Drink to your full"
Each one I shed a tear for
But love concurs all,
Many must negate there existence
For one to live,
*"It took all life with but a ******
Essence of life concentrated but a drop
"Each had felt bone cut In to flesh"
There features fluctuated, then dust
For with out
Life
Force
Nothingness
Remained, a breath of wind
Pasted and features were lost
As into the abyss they disappeared,
I needed to fill all
There were five pins, each one held
The essence of many lives,
I had taken many,
But it did not only give life
"Restored youth"
I had been at this such a long time,
The scars upon flesh never heal
I grip hard as I cut,
Jagged,
Torn,
Flesh
Marks, are a story of my journey
I do this for
"LOVE"
"She is my existence"
I have taken so many
So much essence
Now my journey nearly ended
So few left to fulfil existence,
I need her to
Breathe,
Pulse,
Love
Conquers all, each fought valiantly
But the blade greeted each and all,
I have filled the pins, now is the time,
"Each given of essence"
"All bleed life"
"That which was before"
"Essence of life restore as was before"
I paused, I waited an eternality
Of moments,
Breath returned
Pulse returned
Angelic in her looks,
Her eyes opened after so many lifetimes
"She gazed upon me"
Saw scars upon flesh
I told her the moments of eternity
That love lives forever
And nothing in
Above
&
Below,
Would separate two beats as one,
Lips were connected
So many lifetimes
Met in moments, love breathed anew
Then pain shuddered
"I felt weak"
"Whispers echoed upon fading life"
"Love can not be feed with taken life"
As lips caressed, life turned to dust
"Our embrace were moments"
Then I realised that love conquers all even death
"What had I done"
Taken so many,life for life isn't living
"We were but concentrated droplets"
Our moment now lost to the winds
"The blade of essence"
Drank its full, may we both find our love in the afterlife..
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 8:35 PM UTC
*you stepped
into my room
last night
quietly watching me dream
the warmth of
your breath
floating towards me
hesitation
as emotions fluctuated
a kaliedescope
all the possibilities,
ever changing
I almost felt
then not...
a moment
when we may have
reconnected
yet
your seperation
from me palpable
eyes shut
my hypervigilance
instinctual
protecting my being
knowing
that by opening
myself to you
I may feel
my heart
breaking
once again*
Copyright © October, 2016.
Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved.
Oct 24, 2016
Oct 24, 2016 at 12:44 PM UTC
As I plant myself in front of the mirror
I lift my shirt
And see what I've seen
For about as long as I can remember.
It's a stomach
Always has been.
But these tiny rolls
and squishy bits
have fluctuated
for many years
and I poke a ****
with a loving hand
a caress more than a stab
Yet you insist that I should hate my body
I love my mid section
I love the stretch marks on my thighs
I love the way my stomach
folds and plies
I love it all so much
And all of it is me
So why are you treating me like a sub-human being?
You say that you'd much rather
me having a drinking problem
than be fat
that's what you said
and you think I have a problem?
I'm 5' 1", at about 125.
You think it's "healthy" to have a low BMI.
Your method isn't working
I'm not dieting
No way
No weight watcher's for me
not ever
not today
If you think I should hate myself, Mom
I think you should just leave
Because I love my every fiber
I'm an exceptional human being
And you've overlooked so many facets of a life
And that beauty comes from within
And a couple pounds isn't going to change that
I don't need to be thin.
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 9:12 PM UTC
My weeks have been fluctuated since you were gone,
delusive questions are still thirsty for real answers.
My cries are prolonged beyond
these sweetest smiles,
and my heart beats for no one, like it never had.
The days turned cold because my arms are alone;
nothing but only you, can make me less forlorn.
I showed you diff'rent love, so unrequited
thus, 'tis my fault:
mistakes are undressed; I am lost.
'Twas just because we're becoming strangers again,
that your absence is taking me further with this pain.
I don't know how to perish sadness;
it already perished me:
and all I can do is to chase butterflies
on the isolated rain.
Truth was void, and I hope you understand,
that ev'ryone of us will be leaving from this land:
I never told you about my situation;
but belive me, my life is defined by loving you,
more than else could ever do.
May you will be moving on
because I will never be back here anymore;
and as you read this letter;
save your tears for tommorow.
My life was a journey, and you left me
along the diff'cult roads;
our love we conquered, was against all odds.
The door was closed; 'tis all set and done,
our mem'ries will be withered anyway on the ground.
and as you read this letter;
save my love for last.
Sorry and goodbye, are the best words to utter,
now that I'm already dead;
well, now that you already know what happened.
The rain was over.
Oct 15, 2011
Oct 15, 2011 at 4:09 AM UTC
Doing this confession that I have never done before
'cause I don't like this aching heart to be prolonged:
I know you want someone more than I have been for,
but can you even treasure something about my words?
You were just a dream, I never thought I would have;
you were just a friend and it was change to love.
I would grab the opportunity just to tell everything I'm hiding:
and the reason is that, I can't go on just pretending.
But why can't you even look straight through my eyes?
Is there anything wrong if I say all the things I lied?
'Cause you know what? I'm the happiest person to have you
so please don't run away, I'll color up your days with my rainbow.
And now, it seems different 'cause you don't feel the same way
you can't even utter just a single phrase to make it clear to me:
please don't judge me from that moment I have found you,
'cause there was nothing which motivated me to tell these to you.
I just want to be honest as I'm now reading between the lines,
and please don't run away, please just stay by my side:
I should've told you lately when it was never too late,
'cause now the time has come for us to be fluctuated.
Oct 15, 2011
Oct 15, 2011 at 4:13 AM UTC
Why the **** does it take so long
for certain changes to be made?
Save yourself a load of trouble
and learn from my mistakes;
Take my heartfelt advice:
Change yourself always.
Don't wait for the breaking point.
Change yourself always;
Think critically about why you do what you do,
as well as what you don't do.
Change yourself always:
lest the change itself break you down.
Change is inevitable;
Flux with it
or be fluctuated
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 8:22 PM UTC
So,
You want to be able to write beautiful poetry
Some say it’s easy
“Put a few words here and there. Hooray! A poem!”
Well that’s all well and good but
If you want to be really good at poetry
It’s harder than that
That stuff previously mentioned
Is a brief gust of wind that catches you off guard
Real poetry, words that hit
Or like speeding stones crashing into your temple
It’s gonna hurt because the poem hurt to write
To be really good at poetry
You have to lose
The only thing you’ve ever loved or felt comfortable existing around
Anyone can write good poems
Once they lose the reason their heartbeat fluctuated
***** up the feeling of being whole
Pealing off the skin to shed a new persona
Burn their bodies as a sacrifice
Paying homage to the only person who could control both heart and mind
You gotta watch your soul mate drown right before your eyes
To write good poetry
Like fishing with your Dad and you got the big fish on the line
He’s excited for you and you really want that fish
Till the line cuts lose
And everything feels a whole lot simpler
Also your father also looks depressed
Whether it’s for the Summer or two years
You have to meet your soul mate
Both of you recognize that you two were meant for each other
Then ***** has to leave on His/Her own free will
Only then will you write good poetry
And with a little more tragedy
You could write better than me
But don’t get your hopes up
That’s how you write good poetry
Dec 28, 2010
Dec 28, 2010 at 2:09 AM UTC
Her eyes dimmed
with every blink
that sparkle dissolved
in that black hole
that centered in the middle
of the pale blue eyes
Her body fluctuated
letting go of all things youth
from the tightness of her skin
to the fresh round cheeks
that once screamed health
Her hair darkened
those golden curls
straightened their act
falling on her hollow cheeks
Her neck that once stood tall
hid behind her gigantic scarves
keeping its seductive scent to her
and her alone
Her belly that once digested
the harshest of adventures
lay there, barely full
Her legs that danced with the moon
and ran with the sun, shivered
every time they pounded the pavement
Her fingers that once
narrated a sea of stories in a day or two
but now lay there helplessly
with no pen to hold
no inspiration to burn
within
It was the first time
she stared at a blank page
and shrugged her shoulders
and said "so what"
that was the moment
her muse
fell down to her knees
and cried rainfalls
of tears
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 9:55 AM UTC
i'm always ashamed because i'm doing live editing, and because of live editing, i can never really appreciate my work, as if it was stored in a cabinet drawer, unseen and unread by a curious passer-by, this live editing fuels a feeling of shame... but it also fuels: iftaḥ yā simsim (open sesame)!
the success of u.s.e.
(united states of europe
homogenised
into a monochromatic
use of the english tongue)
will be built upon the
failures u.s.a.
and the failure to feel
guilt for Hiroshima & Nagasaki
like the implemented
guilt the Germans are fed
with Auschwitz...
we have a cold war to stage
the actor's stage fright in
raising up a hand and a cold
hearted democratic ink blotch
of the testifying index finger
that meddled in the shuffling-chess
affairs of electors and parliaments;
it's not that relative things matter
(only einstein could have pulled that off
somehow giving us ripples
of vacuum when space and time collided
without poetic agreement about
fluctuated nostalgia of expression),
we're all abhorrent of moral relativism,
but not taking blame for
the two neutron bombs makes
me a bit sceptical about where this
train is going: it's hardly Zion,
but certainly the fenced in Israel.
Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 3:20 PM UTC
i grew
there has been a split in phases
my bones have capped
i understand how my body changes
my hippocampus fluctuated in size in correlation with depression's hand in mine and my hair no longer grows blonde like yours did
my cells have divided and died to the extent that nothing you had in you is in me anymore.
i know it wasn't my fault anymore than it was yours
and that nothing of mine was touched like you were
your cells died
i grew
Jan 8, 2017
Jan 8, 2017 at 8:00 AM UTC
It's been sixty-three days,
Fifteen hundred and twelve hours,
A total of nine weeks since I saw you last
And my thoughts of you have fluctuated,
Risen and fallen like waves of the Pacific Ocean,
But I have never felt like this in the past.
In these sixty-three days,
I have loved you like I've never loved before,
And I have missed you like I've never done
I've forgotten, forgiven and forbid you,
I can no longer shake this from my shoulders,
Each burden of you weighs a tonne.
In the next eight hundred and eighty-eight hours,
Strikes the beginning of the new year,
But I don't this one to end
It marks the end of moments like this,
Even though they've already left,
And I have no more time left to spend.
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 4:44 PM UTC
WHEN I SLEEP ALL I SEE IS YOUR ******* FACE
IT'S BEEN THREE YEARS AND YOU STILL WON'T LEAVE ME ALONE
YOU'RE BARELY A VAPOR BUT I STILL HEAR YOUR VOICE IN MY HEAD STOP TEMPTING ME TO JUMP OFF YOUR CLIFF
THE TRUTH AND I SHARE A WATERY GRAVE AND I DON'T WANT TO FACE MY OWN FUTURE
MY HEARTBEAT HAS FLUCTUATED SEVEN TIMES IN THE PAST HOUR
FOUR TIMES WERE YOUR FAULT
THE REST WERE BECAUSE OF MY ASTHMA ATTACK I HAVE TO USE MY INHALER WHENEVER I HEAR YOUR VOICE IN MY HEAD
I WOKE UP YESTERDAY AND YOUR NAME BLED OUT OF MY MOUTH LIKE WATER FROM A ******* SPOUT WHY CAN'T I FORGET YOU ALREADY
IF I SHOOT YOUR GRAVESTONE WILL YOUR GHOST GO UP IN FLAMES?IF I CLAW OUT MY EYES WILL I FINALLY STOP SEEING YOU IN PLACES YOU CANNOT BE?IF I LET FEATHERS FALL FROM MY BACK LIKE ANGELS' WINGS WILL YOU COME BACK TO LIFE?
TOUCH YOUR FINGERS TO MY CROWS FEET AND TELL ME I LOOK ******* AWFUL
PLEASE JUST TELL ME I LOOK ******* AWFUL
THERE ARE SEVEN WAYS TO TELL SOMEONE YOU HATE THEIR GUTS
ONE OF THEM IS DYING
I'M SORRY YOU HATE MY GUTS BUT I HATE YOURS MORE
I HATE YOUR LIVER AND YOUR KIDNEYS AND YOUR ******* LUNGS I HATE HOW MUCH YOU SMOKED
I HATE HOW YOU REMEMBERED MY ASTHMA AND BLEW OUT THE ASHES AWAY FROM MY FACE
WEAVE LACEWORK OVER MY HANDS AND FACE LEAVE DOTS OF BLOOD AROUND MY EYES
SHOW ME YOU WERE HERE
SHOW ME THAT I DIDN'T MAKE YOU UP YOU WERE NEVER A FEVER DREAM
YOU WERE COLD AND REAL AND I WISH YOUR PIANIST'S FINGERS COULD STILL PLAY
THERE IS NO GREY AREA ON A BABY GRAND
NO ROOM FOR ERROR WHEN YOU CRASH YOUR CAR INTO A BRICK WALL
THEY TOLD ME TO HONOR YOUR MEMORY SO I CUT OUT MY LUNGS IN THE HOPES THAT IT WOULD HELP YOU TO BREATHE AGAIN
THIS IS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A TSUNAMI AND A HURRICANE.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 11:41 AM UTC
A heart so fragile and worn, each piercing jab is like a silent
scream, aching, grasping out for somebody to hold.
Take hold of me.
And the anger seeps down in through my blemished skin to the veins,
all the way to the filtered heart, where each broken beat is as solitary as the last.
Anxious. Confronted. Alone in the fluctuated dark.
Yet, you've got to just go with the tide, reach for it and hold on. Maybe then you'll be okay.
Perhaps.
You're taking things too seriously, but still you can't escape the perils of the continuous back chatter inside your mind.
They tell you jealousy's perfectly healthy, but in which dimension?
The echoing wail of time lunges at me and I can't push it away.
Disappearing into a book is the best type of escape for me, but when I open the pages they're soiled and ruined.
A whisper of a page calls out to me but it always falls down.
A seeping tunnel of madness is what they tell me I risk falling into, lower and lower until I sift through the sides and vanish into memory.
Memory. I wonder what that's like?
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 2:46 PM UTC
would you still love my aching soul
(oh, how my bones punc;tured and ble'd) if my lips were reduced to ash /it would coat your skin as it does mine, mind your heavy heart/and my heart clawed and thrashed and fluctuated through my whisper-rimmed ears?
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 7:50 PM UTC
“What we need now,” he said,
“Is new ideas.” They started to fall
like snowflakes on that late sharp
November evening when we first
saw the altered light, over the Alpine
lake surrounded by cities who’s
population, as discerned through
quick perusal of the census charts,
fluctuated with unprecedented
irregularity, reminding you of
Andolian snow-capped mountain peaks.
You followed bits of this, like normal,
But found a pattern did not emerge.
The orange was sharp, **** and
beautiful. Thousands were pulling
their Geiger counters out of closets
filled with unused sports equipment,
scarves, cleaning supplies, and brick-a-brac.
We pointed to tell-tail streaks left down
the hallway, but the planters never bloomed.
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 12:33 PM UTC
I told my mom about him. As the words fluctuated from my mouth and glitter sparkled from my eyes I realized just how oddly I was smiling. I stopped for a minute and thought to myself if I had ever felt this way before, or maybe if I was just experiencing this thing everyone calls love. But **** love is such a big word, as big as the smiles and heartbeat rate pumps he make me feel when he talks to me. As big as the distance between the moon and bottom of the ocean to where I beg to be taken someday. I also thought to myself, if any of the other guys who ever took a spot in my heart where even smilar to him. Well, not one bit. He's the better one. He's grown so big in my heart, making it pump the blood I lost because of the past and making me feel alive. Making me regret ever wanting to die, and this is well, a spot as big as the word love. Who would've thought four letters would be so infinite.
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 1:29 AM UTC
The strength of my soul fluctuated
approaching negativity.
I no longer have the strength.
To be happy and carefree.
I need to be awakened.
A wake up call, anything.
Somebody, save me
for I am
falling into deep abyss of a billion thoughts and provocation,
drowning in the paradoxical ideas of philosophical notion.
I am gasping for air
because this load left me unaware.
My world is collapsing
I don't want this as an ending.
If this is a test,
Give me the strength I need.
The least,
some patience to feed.
Quick!
Before my heart dies.
Before I disintegrated.
Before I crumble
to rubble.
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 9:23 AM UTC
I wish for an end to come
A welcome I spoke; untrue now
The progress of time, showing me pain
Saved me than, to severe me again
An arid mind, pleading for lines to flow.
Upon entrance, my improbable dream tempted reality
My artistry had granted me a title, of weight
Dragging me down, before a rise begun
A love that fluctuated, had become so dear
Belonging had I found, as a poet in the world.
Almost quit had I, before my words were fully fledged
At the mention of poetry, I had deigned to deny the ink
A fear of being deemed feminine, had taunted my being
My stanzas had become a guilty pleasure, I could not resist
Years transpiring, before guilt became pride.
My heart had been afforded a source of release
I had been gifted a talent, to be honed
Appreciation was not a given, but had grown
A time of need, was announced with hope
Depression I could not part with, but a reprieve I had found.
Weeks into the year, and my footing I had lost
The joyous monotony of writing had found absence
My life had worn to a thread - a noose was seen an escape
Will myself I could not, without another try
A last attempt, reviving an unconscious passion.
Jan 18, 2017
Jan 18, 2017 at 3:32 PM UTC
Theresa's Quote:*
"To the black hairstylist: Again, I will say that you are a blessing to these women and a blessing to this hair.
Black hair is a heaven-sent gift that helps black women keep their heads held high in public."
I prefer the black wig B1; it suits my complexion and looks convincing.
This is about her internship in Washington, D.C. During her college years, her health fluctuated. She spent two weeks traveling from Maryland to the city, all while searching for a place to park her car.
Before boarding a train to Washington, she majored in political science. Some stories are best left untold, but not this one. It eagerly reveals itself through my poetic sense of humor. Poetry writing is not only about rhythm and rhyme; it can serve as a voice of reason, a therapy session, and a means of soul-searching as our fingers work their magic.
A Black woman’s hair is often viewed as off-limits to outsiders. Her numerous wigs are her crown and glory. Her extensions tightly squeeze her natural hair, which she ignores for the sake of beauty. Even with a low-paying job, she carries herself with grace. Even if it means using the same wig repeatedly, she secures the B1 bob cut with bobby pins.
On that Friday afternoon, her school credits were on her mind. Her career path and every little thing weighed heavily on her thoughts. Even her romantic life took a backseat. As she headed toward her car in the parking lot, she searched for her keys in her bag, thinking of ways to beat the bumper-to-bumper traffic back in Maryland.
As she opened her car door, she noticed a well-dressed man in the adjacent car watching her. He looked attractive, and her instincts kicked in. Was he checking her out or being creepy? She offered him a faint smile.
Just as she was about to get in, her bobbed wig fell to the ground, exposing her messy natural hair. Embarrassed, she quickly picked it up and closed her door, silently asking herself, "What just happened? Why did my wig let me down?"
Second chances seldom come along.
Mar 7, 2025
Mar 7, 2025 at 11:46 AM UTC
Flashing Monet garden blur,
central eye signals up to the core of the brain
until entire body shudders silently beneath the brightness
of banana visions and white blood cells
circling a small dot which fires
down a shorter path in this large bleeding space.
Pupils rolled into sockets,
losing sense of body and of self/
just a floating consciousness/
vivid rainbow lacework pattern into
a vibrating eye
staring back at me fluctuated
in flashes of
flower and
numb fingers
asleep
with absence of mind.
Soft mechanical shapes
swirl about the washing machine,
my head no longer attached to the body/split down
de/
capitat/ed/
consciousness wanders, circles back ethereally
to the room behind me
sees clearly
and expands out thru the window into the grey light of the morning
to see nobody awake
and the vagrant eidolon
can feel me staring back at it for once,
a presence not felt before..
..and the hum in my body rushes up to my head,
intense vague visions,
the weight of my feather-sensation
increases to point of fear,
disorientated upon opening eyes
and centralizing myself
to the room
and universal position.
Breathing deeply.
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 6:34 PM UTC
"Oh! That's so random." said the girl in pink.
Her beautiful eyes an enamouring ice blue.
She spoke with a vivacious smile as perky as a wink.
"Oh? That's so random?" questioned the boy too.
So as he stared into her eyes,
A strong attraction like cloud to skies,
He knew they weren't telling lies,
And to his strange surprise.
It was random, beating in tandem,
His heart rate fluctuated,
He finally said "my heart for you is random"
With a coltish smile she said "i guess we must be fated"
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 5:02 PM UTC