"handholding" poems
On the white screen dance the stringed dots
Mind spilled codes of hieroglyphic thoughts
Slowly they emerge handholding lines
Not always yielding intended designs.
Something was brewing inside the head
Coaxing to weave and take it ahead
The drunken horses so wildly gallop
There is no leash to make them stop.
Nerves are taut and they won't relax
Till all is vented they reach the ******
It was thus fated the moment it was sown
What's to be grown could never be known.
As the fever wanes arrives the new child
It may be adored or it may be defiled
The canvas is washed clean as in the rain
Something is brewing to be vented again.
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 2:19 AM UTC
The way he looks at her
and she looks at him
makes love look so
effortless.
He doesn’t even notice
how he is leaning in –
towards her. And how her arm is
intertwined
around his so tightly;
with such a devoted glint of comfort
and familiarity.
I hope you're on the same train.
Making the aftermath
of falling easy, the complexity simply
luminescent.
Almost allowing me to feel light.
My heart had its fair share of
lightness, brightness – heavy now but
the smiles, the laughter;
It makes me feel as if
perhaps
that is what I yearn for in The End.
But will I ever find happiness if I'm overflowing with joy?
Because the
Melancholy
of a platform sliding out-of-mind,
with You standing there debating the
tangles in your shoelaces
warms up my equally tangled,
Masochistic
heart. Because that is not granted for me (us).
Not the handholding
nor the scent of your hair
when it’s 5 a.m. and your arms
are knotted around my waist and we
waste the day, the days, days in my bed.
Oh, yes (please).
No. I can't get that.
I remind myself:
"I don't need that."
I step onto the platform.
I mind the gap.
I dare do much
But I cannot dare to
trip, stumble,
and fall.
For You. (I already have.)
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 8:59 PM UTC
.
Time,
space
and everything in between.
Heartaches,
tears
and secrets that don't come clean.
Gambols,
laughter
and smiles beaming keen.
Deep thoughts,
aloneness
and the dark places we've been.
Handholding,
careless hugs
and ready shoulders to lean.
Reckless stabs,
impulsive jabs
and caustic words we don't mean.
Contentment,
counting blessings
and hope we can glean.
*You,
me
and everything in between.*
.
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 9:11 PM UTC
It's cold down here,
the white cushions and blankets do nothing
to safeguard my withering body
from Earth's cold claws.
Remember when we used to sit in Summer's sun?
Ankle deep in baked sand
as the waves lulled us.
Remember how you held my hand the first time?
Side by side, we sat on that empty beach
our hands absentmindedly digging towards the core.
It wasn't until I was distant that I felt your fingers,
timid at first,
then coiling like a grape vine 'round a fence.
You remember, don't you?
It hasn't been too long?
You told me,
in that raining back alley,
that you wouldn't let me go.
You told me,
as I held your hand like a lifeline,
that I was going to be okay.
I kept listening,
through the rain and your tears,
for the sound of running footsteps
and the clinking of money in my purse as he ran.
Did you catch him?
Will he never hurt anyone again?
Please tell me,
so that I may feel some warmth in eternity.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 3:58 PM UTC
A child of ten
I thought of sunshine and handholding
They told me I was ugly
A young girl of thirteen
I loved to go to school
They told me I was dumb
A new student at sixteen
I longed for acceptance
They exhibited their disgust for my presence
Then I learned I was worthless at seventeen
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 2:44 AM UTC
I wrote you love letters out of the syrupy innocence of my childish heart,
Mawkish hopes for a future of sweaty handholding and feather-lipped kisses.
More mother than lover, I lived to shield you from the bigger laughing kids,
Because I thought that love was one short ride on the pegs of your homemade bike,
And one dance under purple glowsticks hanging from the cheap drop ceiling,
And, in the stairwell that smelled like paint and old socks, I told you so.
Turned out I wasted my one second wish on the bunny in the moon:
You woke me up with the hollow chill of sudden mere acquaintanceship,
And now you're chasing some blond girl while I'm standing in a corner, busy growing up.
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 12:07 AM UTC
Nothing hurt like
Finding you another time kissing
Nothing felt like
You when you weren't there
Making charcoal of my heart.
Nothing turned like
My stomach when I found
Your sick love letters
Half for me, half for him.
Nothing scarred like,
Leaving when I did,
Nothing broke like
The headlights on my fortune 'van'
You and I felt
Like a rope that pulled at my neck
I was leashed and leaded
Heavy feet aplod
Nothing happened when
I came back
Nothing familiar felt when
I had changed so much
From the pain
Different words flowed
From my cleaner lips
And little passed when
I saw you once more.
But we talk
But we see one another
But I turn aside
But you don't,
I see your smile
Your dew dropped laughter
Perhaps the morning cold
Froze the heat within you.
Nothing flickered when
We looked deep in each other's eyes
Nothing flew when
Words skipped between us
Nothing sparked when
You took my hand in yours
Nothing forgotten, but
It felt so good for you to hold me again.
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 4:12 PM UTC
I'm freedom I'm pace I'm alone I'm grace I'm hardwork I'm no sleep I'm sightseeing while not leaving town I'm smiling I'm here I'm okay I'm great
You're trees you're wind you're old smells you're handholding you're just a minute late you're dads truck you're nameless you're a mystery right now you're everything i could never hate
Im on my way I'll find you soon I don't mind waiting for someone like you.
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 12:47 AM UTC
Wired like a loaded gun
Waiting for the morning sun
Hello! How are you today
And I wonder
My love
Should I take the sun from you
Put it in a box of darkness
Like setting
I spread the ashes of a love never in love
just a circle venn diagram make believe but not Peter Pan
And love
I love you so
I am the sun
And I shine for no one
So box of darkness
Here I come
Speckled star dust farm eggs
Fresh renewed self conviction
Moon born
Phasing through to a life
Without you
Hedonism blood pulse
Still sentimental soul
Selling out to the lone wolf
Sneaky fox
Flowers tainting memories
Hand holding cheek kissing nostalgia bliss
Don't think
Of the one you will miss
Just kiss
Supernova
Little sunhat at nighttime party
Don't don't listen to the lies you whisper to yourself
You are the one you'll miss
If you don't help yourself
Feast on sin and self-righteousness
Reincarnation is second chance
Listen to the hands with the carnations outstretched
Fellow stranger with star burnt eyes
caring for those self told lies
You cheat
yourself
with handholding cypress knees bending towards
neurons collapsing
into the one who
Binary stars you
Binary stares at you
Holds you in your sleep from far away
Dream meeting past life fleeting into the now
You answer to this highschool crush pop quiz invader of reality
Who questions what color to paint the moon
Never almost drowning
But who has only ever taken a life
that belonged to them alone
relating in fictional patterns of physics
Undeniable wavelengths
colliding crashing consoling
You knew from the first eyes
that seeds of doubt would sprout in what you mislead as love
And you ask
Why not?
Hello,
today is not tomorrow.
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 3:50 AM UTC
there are two options when something happens that you don’t want to happen, something that changes your plans, something that takes a girl (who loves you, loves you, loves you forever like you’re sunshine) that you were going to get drunk with on a rooftop and kiss till if-and-when she fell in love and makes her into a girl whose Boyfriend Wouldn’t Like That. you can dig in your heels. you can stew and hate and surrender to the agony of we-had-all-these-plans-and-now-we-don’t. you can say I Will Never Get Over Her. you can tell your friend She Was the Only One I’ll Ever Love. you can tell yourself you have to want her forever or forget her, and you can’t forget her. you cannot ******* change your plans THEY WERE BEAUTIFUL PLANS.
or.
you can change your plans, even though they were beautiful. you can remember that she tried, and know it wasn’t enough for you but you love her more than just for her handholding. you can not-excuse her but you can forgive her. you can tell and tell and tell yourself it wasn’t right if it didn’t work, and you can believe yourself one day. in the meantime, you can have lunch with her instead of pay for dinner. you can turn her into beer and philosophy on picnic tables instead of wine in bed. you can take another girl to the rooftop who was made to love you the way a rooftop girl should love you. you can quote books about the love you deserve because you deserve better on a rooftop, but you might deserve her at that picnic table. there are two options when something changes your plans. you can cross your arms. or you can open them.
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 11:13 PM UTC
Passing around a fatal flaw like a joint in a hot box,
Refreshing baths of Coca~Cola and regretful indulgence
We are wasting away in a paradise of my creation
Poems tinted grey through abstinent romanticism,
and an inexplicable undertone inherent to my prose.
As everything starts to return to a drumming constant.
It all sounds the same.
We've been sunbathing in porcelain skies and empty daydreams.
Drab and dreary and acid washed.
Interrupted like a beach by the sea,
By the little pieces of drug soaked warmth that act as comforting distractions.
A smile or a shoulder or a sunny day to drink from.
Summer and solitude, the likeness of warm bodies in a cold pool.
So.
Compose me an opera of Soda Cans and of choral song. Synthesise two bass lines and slow drip coffee and pollen and folk.
Make it for me so I can watch you as you work.
Let me listen and bask in its ludacris vanity, and clean shallow waters.
How I would relish the time spent muddying the current. Destroying the tide I desired out of boredom.
And black hot frustration.
Flowers painted in acid and acrid accounts of repetative revalations in the context of rude rosy cheeked romance.
Blonde haired ignorance and one dimensional delusions.
Blue eyed terrorists armed with air and arrogance.
Give me seatwarmers and handholding
Or corvettes and convertables.
Give me arrowheads and heart attacks
Humble my bones with a cardiac
!F.R.I.E.N.D.S.!
SITCOMS
ADJASENT PLOTLINES
mumble rap
AND ***** TALK HOTLINES
four letter words with little context or meaning and selfless expression that's often demeaning
Its September in January and it rains for a day
And despite all our efforts
The days waste away
Jan 24, 2020
Jan 24, 2020 at 12:26 PM UTC
I am from a Saturday afternoon living room overflowing with the sounds of Fleetwood Mac, John Lennon and Bob Dylan.
I am from home cooked meals, roaring laughter at the dinner table and short tempered Italians.
I am from Frank Sinatra singalongs, Lifetime movies and swimming lessons from my Mimi.
I am from my Pop’s war stories, tomato picking and ***** jokes.
I am from the grandparents that didn’t want my dad and the grandparents that did.
I am from the stoic grandmother that wasn’t involved in my mom’s life and the deadbeat grandad that didn’t seem to exist.
I am from the ten years of Catholic school, plaid skirts and polo shirts.
I am from spoon-fed customs of Catholicism every day except (coincidentally) Sunday mornings.
I am from rose scented mornings because of regretted whiskey words from the night before.
I am from words muttered impulsively, apologizes not offered graciously and too many family nights turned into family fights.
I am from cigarette infused hugs, plastered smiles and “I’ll quit tomorrow”.
I am from twenty-six years of handholding, couch cuddling and kitchen dancing.
I am from goodnight kisses, chocolate chip cookies in my lunch and red heart emoji’s in a text.
I am from love and anger and happiness and remorse.
I am from memories in the making and a future unknown.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 2:09 PM UTC
Let's piggyback off each other
Create our own reality.
Hide not from handholding
But from that which cannot overwhelm.
Let's get sick of each other.
Bear ourselves to the world unforgiving.
And after our pain has been shed
We'll nurse each other back to health.
Let's have our chance at the universe
And after taking it for a test ride
Decide we deserve so much more
Than just the infinite.
Your mouth starts
And ends
With mine
As mine does with yours.
Let's close our eyes
Become parallel instead of perpendicular.
Let's travel together
Lines in synchronicity.
Jul 10, 2017
Jul 10, 2017 at 5:32 AM UTC
Upon my fingertips I have counted
the number of times my heart has been broken.
The number of times I have said no more.
The number of times I have said once more.
You, my middle school love,
our lips may have never meet but
our 13 year old hearts collided
like high speed cars crashing
somewhere between lunch time hand holding
and secret under table notes meant only for our eyes.
Three days after eighth grade graduation
I could still feel the warmth of you lips upon my check.
That summer when we said goodbye
I understood the law of gravity for the first time.
Now to my freshman crush.
The one that all the boys chased,
the one who I thought I could court.
We shared late night conversations,
giving each other secrets that we only told the dark.
I like a fool forget the law of gravity and jump once more.
You though taught me that sometimes
love is not always cupid’s arrow.
Sometimes love is not always handholding and lip kissing.
Sometimes love is simply secret sharing
and late night conversations.
Sometimes love is just a shoulder to cry on,
when love doesn't work out with someone else.
I am sorry that I had to walk away before I learnt this.
Finally I come to you,
you my high school sweetheart.
The one who was suppose to heal my brokenness
and show me why middle school love,
and freshman crush never worked out.
I lost in darkness forgot that you were not
the light to illuminate my path but you were just a girl.
A girl who fell in love with the broken boy,
who fell in love with the idea of love.
The only way the story of a girl who fell to hard
and a broken boy can end is with a tear.
I am sorry I could not love you the way
you needed to be loved, like how I needed to be loved.
Now it is senior year and these hallway
are filled with ghost that use to hold my hand.
Middle school love is now just a stranger
who I once shared a bus seat with.
Freshman crush now only exist in
long forgotten Facebook messages
and stray glance in the hallways but
not longer do we share secrets.
The girl who fell to hard no longer
looks up when pass in the hallways.
The memories that we shared have faded
And I, I say no more.
No more hearts shall I break
No more heartaches shall I feel.
No more I will say and say again
until I say once more once again.
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 4:32 PM UTC
i miss the oh so innocent handholding in the movie theater and the sitting in the darkness at that party and the giggles i had while our friends ran around betting if you'd kiss me that night.
we sat for hours on end and talked. talked about high school and how thrilling it would be to finally be old and have the freedom we knew would come and friends and that boy you hated on your popwarner football team because he had a crush on me.
then it came, that wretched thing called highschool.
when it did it crashed like a wave on an unknowing passerby.
you changed and just like that it wasn't innocent and it wasn't sweet.
you kept going and going and taking it farther and farther
and looking back now, i don't know how it would be if i stuck around.
hands that once were just held, transformed into hands that weren't satisfied and wandered and pulled at my clothes while my clouded mind didn't know how to say no and i wish i could take it all back.
our talks, they weren't so naive. all of a sudden the topic of school and youth was flipped to arguments on where i would attend college and how many kids i wanted and what state we'd live in.
walking in halls? they turned into stops before lunch where we'd spend forever whispering and teasing and touching.
arguments were then transfigured into you scolding me like i was some baby. who were you?
and texts in the phone were switched to messaging so my mom would never see what you sent me.
im sorry you never got what you really wanted.
im sorry i never did anything right.
im sorry you lost your friends.
im sorry i was too ******* up.
im sorry i knew you too well and figured out how to end my despair.
im sorry.
and im sorry i ruined your life.
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 2:05 AM UTC
all those kisses goodnight came to nothing
that handholding while walking a distant memory
romance came early and left just as quick
all our Romeo and Juliet love died,
along with our teenage hearts.
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 6:59 PM UTC
You melodrama you,
always wished for more than dew,
basking in the bald sun since we were one,
pushing me and my weak knees to run.
today I wrote a different theme,
Nope no midsummer nights dream,
no candlelight under the stars,
no precious smile inducing memoirs.
No handholding, skimpy in the park,
No little jokes that make your eyes spark,
no warm butterfly forehead (oh man! those) kisses,
no happy 1698 days anniversary wishes.
No rolling around my mouth with your salty tongue,
No chess no dominoes no Donkey Kong,
no skydiving through the clouds while we are young,
no last minute spring cleaning when the bell is rung,
Still in the morning when I lace my shoes,
I just lay back and block out the news,
then out the door to meet the train,
Hoping for rain.............
And there you are with my missing umbrella
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 9:51 AM UTC
I've forgotten the words written
Upon your skin.
Did we write about the late nights the long days and leave the lustful leisure?
I've forgotten.
I've forgotten the smells slathered
Upon your skin.
Were they the sickly sweet apple blossom or cherry picked berries?
I've forgotten.
I've forgotten the taste.
Of Love bitten handholding and sneaky snaking fingers and thumbs
I've forgotten you.
And I wonder if
You've forgotten me.
probably.
Jun 18, 2016
Jun 18, 2016 at 4:31 AM UTC
This is who I am.
Thunder in the distance, coming or leaving? Staying or going? Coming or
Leaves falling from healthy trees like lush green flower petals, summer or autumn? Spring or winter? Summer or
Falling raindrops, water from seas you've never seen. Seas you've only touched. Creek or Sea? Lake or river? Creek or
Seeing children, small and smiling. Simple laughter, tantrum-less playdates and fairy tale stories. Park or playground? Street or yard? Park or
Playthings, dusty, slightly used. A yardsale full of stories. That was my favorite, once. Doll or teddy? Ball or necklace? Blanket or
Sheets blowing on gentle breezes. Wet, warm, drying. Not quite abandoned, but left to its devices. Lonely or purposed? Chore or necessity? Lonely or
Purposeful smiles for those you dislike. Cutting insults for those you enjoy. Love for sunshine. Love for Trash. Hatred for misses. Hatred for Jests. Cruel or fair? Friend or foe? Cruel or
Faires that leave no trace when they're gone. Festivals that stay only long enough for a single good memory. Happy memories with no roots. Steadfast or fantasy? Risky or Safe? Steadfast or
Fantasies about handholding, about side eyes and smiles, about inside jokes. Dreams about darkness, about imitators, about mistakes. Dream or Reality? Dream or Daydream? Dream or
Realities like calm water, allowing only ripples. Are you real? Is anyone? Are we dust and shadows? Real or fake? Real or fake? Real or
Thunder in the distance. Coming or leaving? Staying or running?
This is who I am.
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 12:04 PM UTC
It's so hard to watch him with other people
He's not shy about showing anyone else affection
And I'm one of his best friends, so what's different with me?
I know I'm being selfish, that he has much more pressing matters to worry about
Than a hug
Or some handholding
But I'm tired and sad and I just want someone to snuggle up against and forget the world
May 1, 2018
May 1, 2018 at 8:58 AM UTC
Missed Chances
of handholding at sunsets
of stolen photographs
of calls and dates to remember
of desire, rejection, and just
breathing the moments
of love to use
in past, present and future tense
If only one said hello
one would've been blessed
With the promise
of unconstrained adventures
of good and bad
of dreams and reality
of life
Jun 20, 2017
Jun 20, 2017 at 4:20 AM UTC