"gyllenhaal" poems - Hello Poetry

I laid there watching you upon the screen My slight buzz increasing with small sips With wine goggles on you were even more pristine and then these words released from my lips Oh Jake Gyllenhall Why are you so much prettier than everyone No one compares to your hair swoosh Just by your outstanding appearance alone you've won You're sweet personality makes all other males look like a ****** Why can't the men I see resemble you? Your scruffy beard gives me butterflies From the first moment I heard your voice my love for you grew Sadly no one can compare so I will have to compromise And as I closed my eyes I only thought of you Oh Jake Gyllenhaal if only I was someone you knew

0

Jun 29, 2013

Jun 29, 2013 at 4:16 AM UTC

holland-vandrepole

My Ode To Jake Gyllenhaal

I laid there watching you upon the screen My slight buzz increasing with small sips With wine goggles on you were even more pristine and then these words released from my lips Oh Jake Gyllenhall Why are you so much prettier than everyone No one compares to your hair swoosh Just by your outstanding appearance alone you've won You're sweet personality makes all other males look like a ****** Why can't the men I see resemble you? Your scruffy beard gives me butterflies From the first moment I heard your voice my love for you grew Sadly no one can compare so I will have to compromise And as I closed my eyes I only thought of you Oh Jake Gyllenhaal if only I was someone you knew

15

here is the year that i rarely noticed the always redness on my index finger from the key i had to fight to twist. every day. the year that i got over you and then under you. there was the night i figured out faith. and the morning i forgot it. i bought a lot of denim this year, and i told you a lot of stories ("you" being you, this time). i watched more jake gyllenhaal movies than i expected to--"the year of jake gyllenhaal"--but it wasn't his year, it was mine. sometimes it was too pretty to believe in--sometimes i didn't--and sometimes it was like a compound fracture, and instead of setting it, 9-1-1 just kissed me on the cheek and said it's okay. some nights that fixed it. it was the year when i was a real grown-up, and nobody could tell me not to buy ***** or not to eat bacon every lunchtime, or not to drink ***** with my bacon, at least. there were mornings when i woke up aching for someone to tell me just that, to stop, to tell me how to do it. how to do this. how to be a two-wheeler. a year when i still don't quite have it down, but i think i will. here is the year when i lost you and i found you and i lost you and i loved you, and i love you, and you, and you, and you. here is the year that i had visceral dreams and ghosts in the corners of my eyes. i asked them politely to leave, and they did. here is the first year ever that i did not break an umbrella in the wind, and i did not twist my ankle, and i did not finish that book you lent me. i did not finish that mug of tea you put too much honey in that burned my tongue when i sat on your squeaking bed for the first time. this year, i wore snow boots and i microwaved soup indoors and i had a lot of sad saturdays with easy sundays. i watched my tiny town become a tragedy and a hero, and i watched bigger towns do the same, and i think i got to understand compassion, but i watched myself make you sad, and this was the year i did that too many times to count with fingers. there were nights when i only wanted to count your fingers, and nights when i wanted everything at its fastest. here is the year that a lot of people left and i drank more cups of coffee than i expected to, but i still slept more than anybody wanted. here is the year that i wore my grandfather's jacket, and an old friend's sweater. i made money and mistakes and amends and movies and little wooden chairs and painted cups. here is the year that i don't know how, but i will.

0

Apr 23, 2013

Apr 23, 2013 at 11:56 PM UTC

cr1090

Here is the Year

here is the year that i rarely noticed the always redness on my index finger from the key i had to fight to twist. every day. the year that i got over you and then under you. there was the night i figured out faith. and the morning i forgot it. i bought a lot of denim this year, and i told you a lot of stories ("you" being you, this time). i watched more jake gyllenhaal movies than i expected to--"the year of jake gyllenhaal"--but it wasn't his year, it was mine. sometimes it was too pretty to believe in--sometimes i didn't--and sometimes it was like a compound fracture, and instead of setting it, 9-1-1 just kissed me on the cheek and said it's okay. some nights that fixed it. it was the year when i was a real grown-up, and nobody could tell me not to buy ***** or not to eat bacon every lunchtime, or not to drink ***** with my bacon, at least. there were mornings when i woke up aching for someone to tell me just that, to stop, to tell me how to do it. how to do this. how to be a two-wheeler. a year when i still don't quite have it down, but i think i will. here is the year when i lost you and i found you and i lost you and i loved you, and i love you, and you, and you, and you. here is the year that i had visceral dreams and ghosts in the corners of my eyes. i asked them politely to leave, and they did. here is the first year ever that i did not break an umbrella in the wind, and i did not twist my ankle, and i did not finish that book you lent me. i did not finish that mug of tea you put too much honey in that burned my tongue when i sat on your squeaking bed for the first time. this year, i wore snow boots and i microwaved soup indoors and i had a lot of sad saturdays with easy sundays. i watched my tiny town become a tragedy and a hero, and i watched bigger towns do the same, and i think i got to understand compassion, but i watched myself make you sad, and this was the year i did that too many times to count with fingers. there were nights when i only wanted to count your fingers, and nights when i wanted everything at its fastest. here is the year that a lot of people left and i drank more cups of coffee than i expected to, but i still slept more than anybody wanted. here is the year that i wore my grandfather's jacket, and an old friend's sweater. i made money and mistakes and amends and movies and little wooden chairs and painted cups. here is the year that i don't know how, but i will.

1

I’ve come to learn that I cannot pray With a full heart that’s devoted, unsuspecting of faith. And I’ve learned to accept that god might have mercy But he also has wrath And that’s what I see mostly. Wars and death surround us so profoundly and yet we just pray harder so we can sleep soundly Uncertainty is deadly I’m sadly inclined to believe so At least in this place Where it’s wrong to show ankle& toe. Or have weak faith be the reason or your woes Maybe God’s anger is why you’re not good at this and that It’s also why you can’t find your ‘perfect’ match Because your heart is tainted, and your mind too aware so they never fancy you as a ‘catch’ You’re not porcelain doll either, you’re full of scar and scratch so start praying harder dear (there’s no future with Gyllenhaal or Cumberbatch) and so you’re expected to bloom before you even hatch because nothing matters more than finding a match Or else you’d grow old and be trapped with lonesome that kills and a reality that slaps. “that’s what God intended” Is what I’m forced to believe so I can pray harder and never have time to grieve why would god mind if I ********** Or participate in a heated debate About his existence (whether it’s real or fake) And why he causes all this heartache Because yet again All I see is death and wrath and sometimes I drown myself in a bath To escape all I’ve come to hate About this place and how people tell me my fate Because anything different would make the Lord angry Like raising your voice Or acting ‘manly’ So When will he shed light And make a child of war’s smile somewhat bright Because he abandoned them Or so it seems I guess he’s too caught up with my wildest dreams & the length of my jeans.

0

Dec 2, 2018

Dec 2, 2018 at 4:49 PM UTC

asphodelsrue

Holy

I’ve come to learn that I cannot pray With a full heart that’s devoted, unsuspecting of faith. And I’ve learned to accept that god might have mercy But he also has wrath And that’s what I see mostly. Wars and death surround us so profoundly and yet we just pray harder so we can sleep soundly Uncertainty is deadly I’m sadly inclined to believe so At least in this place Where it’s wrong to show ankle& toe. Or have weak faith be the reason or your woes Maybe God’s anger is why you’re not good at this and that It’s also why you can’t find your ‘perfect’ match Because your heart is tainted, and your mind too aware so they never fancy you as a ‘catch’ You’re not porcelain doll either, you’re full of scar and scratch so start praying harder dear (there’s no future with Gyllenhaal or Cumberbatch) and so you’re expected to bloom before you even hatch because nothing matters more than finding a match Or else you’d grow old and be trapped with lonesome that kills and a reality that slaps. “that’s what God intended” Is what I’m forced to believe so I can pray harder and never have time to grieve why would god mind if I ********** Or participate in a heated debate About his existence (whether it’s real or fake) And why he causes all this heartache Because yet again All I see is death and wrath and sometimes I drown myself in a bath To escape all I’ve come to hate About this place and how people tell me my fate Because anything different would make the Lord angry Like raising your voice Or acting ‘manly’ So When will he shed light And make a child of war’s smile somewhat bright Because he abandoned them Or so it seems I guess he’s too caught up with my wildest dreams & the length of my jeans.

43