"mailing" poems
Don't be frightened if you hear me at the door...or even if you think you see me at the window. Pretend it's a trick of the light...or another one of those bumps in the night.
The spirit is strong and, I'm finding, quite playful in its first few days, weeks, maybe months... whilst waiting for another 'mission'.
You know...finding my feet - or maybe wings?
But I'm not likely to phone. E-mailing was not my thing! And texting? You’re kidding! I was not a big fan!. All that predictive stuff...If you’re too quick it ends up nonsense...all wrong...not for me.
But I will be sending messages through the wind in the trees or maybe the surf on the rocks and sand. Wherever we walked together listen out for me there. I've always felt that I'd be able to do that.
You know...whilst finding my feet - or will it be wings?
And always, from now on...help spiders out with a glass and a card...
take care not to squash their legs. You never know what happens next. And, anyway, another time, but long ahead I hope, it could be you. Although, I always fancied I would come back a human - like this last time round.
Being me was good. And they say, ...you know...out there...
that you go back to a time when you were at your best.
For me that means being younger, fitter - So, a wander on a sun warmed or breezy beach. A Salsa dance, or this Zumba lark...or doing a painting. I liked that...
But definitely...fit...Before IT... You know...I’m looking forward to finding my feet, my wings.
So...you may see me - out in a crowd, or walking along a country lane, incongruously between villages.
I'm already working at appearing for longer and for being more than just a familiar, fleeting, scent or smell. Until I get the calling to make a full life of it again...I'll maybe pop in and out of your life (to let you know I can) ...just in an incidental, experimental kind of way; but then only from time to time.
It's quite tiring...You know...finding your feet...your wings.
Jan 22, 2019
Jan 22, 2019 at 6:22 AM UTC
Don't worry, I won't tell her about you.
Don't worry, her first word will always be "Mama".
Don't worry, I won't tell her about your deep love for strawberry milkshakes.
Though, she refuses to have milk in everything but strawberry shakes.
Don't worry, I won't bother telling her how good you were at volleyball,
I would tell her its a good sport to play.
Don't worry, I won't bother telling her science fictions are great,
I ask her to just give any of them from the shelf, a read.
Don't worry, I won't bother telling her that she can't bunk classes.
Because she is allowed to but, also read her textbooks later.
Though, she doesn't know how pridefully your attendance used to drop, then.
Don't worry, I won't bother not going to movies with her and yeah, she can choose them,
alternatively.
Don't worry, I won't bother her to grow up.
She can always have brownies and chocolate ice cream in the middle of the night.
Though, she doesn't know how you used to be lectured for doing the same.
Don't worry, I won't bother asking her to learn singing,
she loves Jazz dancing.
Though you never stopped moving your feet, to those Irish beats.
Don't worry, I won't bother saying how blowing bubbles and balloons were your favorite pass time.
It's her 16th birthday and all she wants is the party hall to be crowded with red and white balloons.
Don't worry, I won't bother telling her that black is the color.
I tell her that she can always wear black to dates and sometimes, they work out really well.
Don't worry, I won't bother asking her to give me a call
every once in a while.
Because she loves writing letters and mailing them to me.
Little does she know, about your handwritten notes that still hold a place in my diary.
Don't worry, I won't question her choices.
But, will for sure forbid her from falling for a man like you,
who will soon fall for someone new.
Oh did I forget to tell you, she writes too.
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 7:59 AM UTC
I romanticize humanity until what's left isn't even human.
I cook up fallacies about legal aliens and add a dash of cumin.
Your chef tosses salads in the pasta section of the grocery store.
Devil's just as confused, with a ***** and an apology at heaven's door.
You don't know, and no one cares where eggs go when they die.
Godzilla thinks of a car full of clowns like you would a sardine pie.
What happens when an elephant gets alzheimer's and loses keys?
Does the paradox consume an entire circus of trapeze-act-fleas?
I ruin birthday cakes by blowing off the frosting instead of the flames.
How I do that? Count backwards from backwards and say my names.
Bittersweet love anthems pollute the brains of conscientious dames.
Heavy metal doesn't pollute, it pacifies rage quitting from soul-sucking games.
Out of the woodwork comes a limp ***** that would work,
Long hours only to find he'd pay millions for a Miley Cyrus twerk,
Which is worth about as much as an all-female circle ****
Unless you add strap-ons, so strap in and lap up the knee-jerk-smirk.
It is unwise to handle scissors when one is being cutting-edge,
Because your accountants will dangle themselves off of a three-storey ledge,
When you cut up the ledgers and make light of, that is, burn, the evidence of pledge,
To the monkeys in your think-tank mailing feces to the upstart farmer's hedge.
Now I know you're sick of rhyming and of poems and of liver culling whisky,
But I must inform you of a pirate's missing eye, I've bought sight of something risky,
I implore that when this song and dance is done, you'll assuredly miss me,
Because I've told you everything about depravity, hence forth you must kiss me.
Beacons of hope shine much like cantankerous silver in the moonlight.
If you're a werewolf that will fill you with hope and with immeasurable fright.
One day the world will admit that I'm awesome and impoverished to boot,
Because when the song and dance is done, what's left is just an ounce of loot.
Jul 20, 2022
Jul 20, 2022 at 9:28 PM UTC
It's Christmas time in the golden state
For a sign of snow you'll wait and wait
And the only snowman that you'll ever make
Are the inflatable ones that are really fake
Christmas shopping is the best
Going from store to store with no time to rest
Make sure you get everyone on you're list
If someone's forgotten they will be ******
The mailing of Christmas cards, it never ends
Who would have thought you had so many friends
Putting up the decorations is suppose to be fun
But when it comes to doing the job you're the only one
Try to wrap up the presents nice and neat
But before the night is done you'll admit your defeat
So drink some eggnog and stay in good cheer
And remember Christmas only comes once a year
Dec 4, 2018
Dec 4, 2018 at 9:55 AM UTC
One of you continues to ****
my head E-mailing from HP
covertly unprovoqued.
Your hateful angry senseless
defecated words
are your property not me.
"My roses aren't planted in your dark
nasty places for your misery and pain"
You aren't the center of my Universe
come out from your dark cloud
stop your pooping rain
on me find another victim.
Satan doesn't want you in hell
and God won't let you in
heaven.
~~~
By: karijinbba, 2020.
Feb 20, 2021
Feb 20, 2021 at 11:46 PM UTC
Dearest jewels of my crown motherhood
Go to the nearest FBI office
Accuse all you call friends of a hate crime drugging you without you knowing to make you feel **** and think you are nuts hallucinogens and methamphetamine s do that
Do not go to psychiatrist they will trash you
your Mom and remove your parental rights forever a Susan and Arthur and Elizabeth already bought you from Haralsmbios a human trafficking psychopath sadist torturer like kiriaki and many more in Greece
Those you trust here in USA hide Crimes they are a team of murderers and thieves since 1980
They assimilated Jeff and John through drugs
Free yourselves.
They all are your deadly enemies they document all lies half truths use assassination of character and fear of your Mom to hide their crimes
They are who lie divide you and plan to ****** your Mom too for financial gain.
They made credit cards with your name in it to finance murders for hire ..
And tell you it's Mom buying thousands of dollars in clothes that's a lie from Satan
They are black mailing you.
to extort money to **** Mom.
~~
Remove your blind folds fight for your freedom take your children run to FBI office use me as a living witness I am on your side.
I love you all my children.
~~
~My Story poem.~
The greatest deception is calling everyone
a friend
Today I admit that from ancient times
am blessed to have had his intimate
piece of heart
thus my life was worth while.
I declare that even here
I was blessed with this
Outer Limits De-Javus;
~~
I am forever a grateful Mom,
granted to sacrifice my
love, my life along with everyone
I ever loved the most.
There's still justice to be granted; triumph waived
with defeat acknowledged.
Not only have I waived and yielded to every misfortune
but was trashed to the eleven winds as my evil enemy
lied to divide me among my dearly beloved offspring
planning as in above the law to profit from my demise.
~~~
By: Karijinbba
All Rights Reserved.
Jun 10, 2023
Jun 10, 2023 at 1:32 AM UTC
i.
unfiltered asiatic plaything seeks
hypoactive cradle technocrat
evicting meaningful poach,
mendacious transcripts of
past events found in his
memoryless playhouse.
poplar crowd scribbles observations
outbound punch of laughter
sighs to the scrambled, ethnic
postgrad nation.
microfiche telegram exploits
meaning to deeper courtesies
current surrendered upon
entry.
ii.
psychotropic sustenance
fizz thru ***** vein corridor
secret mission lifestyle
learning fast in enormous packs of
tiny lies.
spew logic chagrin mediated
bloodstain; cerebus twitching
outside of beingself.
iii.
heart ceases,
sacred whitepaint moans.
o infidel,
strike thrice; a chord
binding us- nasty, *****
beads bleeding rich.
cloaked bushes tasting,
hisses cured human oaks;
tapered horns that sob,
casting waved heels.
iv.
dawn fallen, only concrete
possible now. separated by
thousands of what is not,
shocks disintricate; undwindling
patriots mailing lessness,
laughter sounds fetching
offband pitch.
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 7:11 AM UTC
I was at the post office the other day,
mailing off some letters,
waiting in line (patiently waiting),
when I see an elderly woman walk in.
Grey haired, wrinkled skin, hunched over, cane in hand,
walking, walking slowly, the world, run, run, running around her
at what must have seemed like to her, 1000 miles per hour.
She was having an some kind of issue with her post office box key,
i overheard, it wouldn't fit in her post office box,
and she wanted the postal worker to help her
They kind of shrugged her off like she was a senile old kook, snickering behind her back.
I finally got thru the line, and met the woman in the lobby by the post office boxes.
"Ma'am, do you need help with your mailbox?" I asked, concerned.
"They told me it should work now. They said there was mail blocking it."
"Which one is it? Let's see if we can get it to open" I said,
taking the key, I inserted it, but it wouldn't work.
"Are you sure this is the right box?
"Yes", she said, "they said there was mail blocking it."
"Then are you sure this is the right key? Look, i can insert it into any of these other boxes,
and it still won't turn. So its either the wrong box, or the wrong key."
I felt sorry for the woman.
I wondered if she understood.
She seemed disoriented, confused.
She took the key,
and brought it closer to her eyes,
examining it,
studying it,
realizing
"I must have brought my husbands key by mistake. He's passed away..."
I didn't know what to say, I felt so bad for her.
"I miss him so much..." she said, key in hand, rubbing it between her thumb and index finger.
"I'm sorry." What was i supposed to say at that point?
"Oh well," she said, "one day chicken, next day feathers. God bless you for trying to help me."
Aug 7, 2011
Aug 7, 2011 at 8:36 PM UTC
Head spinning
Feet tapping
Mind wrapping
Thought trapping
Idea capping
Desperation mapping
Quality lacking
Spaces filled
Time killed
Not thrilled
Answers willed
Nails biting
Cheaters sighting
After all nighting
Wrongs not righting
Feel like flighting
Brainpower waning
Lack of knowledge maintaining
Wisdom draining
Composure regaining
Test failing
Arms flailing
Letters mailing
Face paling
The big unveiling
No more prevailing
The action entailing:
My annihilation
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 5:04 AM UTC
I should have known it was starring in a movie,
When they said that writers also get groupies;
As these women continue to swarm by the flock,
I get rid of some, more come to me nonstop,
But you knew before I was even deeded such,
You saw potential in me when did not see much.
If you only knew...
Can I have YOUR autograph?
Inscribe it dearly over my heart on my chest.
Can I go between the scene, backstage?
I love women in uniform, watch you get dressed
As you star in the role for your life
A hardworking single woman who needs no man,
I have a lot of respect for a lady like you,
I need to be on your mailing list as the biggest fan.
I write and serve in the Army of the United States,
But I support my hardworking single women always;
Your determination give me the strength to try,
Thinking of you work and study all day and all night;
You say that you are ordinary just to yourself,
I say that you are extraordinary beyond anyone else.
If you only knew...
Can I have YOUR autograph?
Inscribe it dearly over my heart on my chest.
Can I go between the scene, backstage?
I love women in uniform, watch you get dressed
As you star in the role for your life
A hardworking single woman who needs no man,
I have a lot of respect for a lady like you,
I need to be on your mailing list as the biggest fan.
No matter if I write music, books, or serve,
I still know the definition of a woman's worth
And prove it with the right given chance
For me to be one of your very biggest fans.
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC
Florida tore us apart with its sticky lies and hot hot días
Benadryllic hazes in which I ceased to play a role in your dreams
I dreamt of dark tall hipsters who loved sandwiches on pan whiter than their skin
A last resort, you called them, and I disagreed
I fought sleep with weighty eyelids, forced you to prop yours up like tiendas
You betrayed me in sleep while I betrayed you in daylight
We both shed bitter tears over regretful pasta dishes,
then decided again to be a juntos (do you know what that means, dark-skinned boy?)
During the days I’d fill boxes de galletas with the remains of an expiring lifestyle,
wondering quietly how much of it would fit into my new brick bedroom
You and I dreamt a juntos, falling asleep to shared breaths in separate beds
Mailing tokens to hold instead of each other, pretending that word-heavy
paper smelled like tú o yo
Always aparte on birthdays, I learned to roll my r’s while
your grandmother cooked you mole
I boiled water for boxed delicacies in pale shades of yellow and brown
You stirred chocolate into glasses and downed them one by one
I looked to Saint James for absolution, but always found him durmiendo
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 12:47 PM UTC
Barely nineteen, he shipped for life.
On a cold windy Pacific shore
carrying relatives?
Old polluted tin cars,
and refugees mailing brown letters;
Silently noted
his lover of his depart.
One July dawn,
when the boat calmed.
He knew his biggest regret sailed too.
Later, with new wife and son,
he’d scan the lake for her scooner.
Kawartha grasses grew deeper.
He had a daughter Rosemary,
his past, only a cinematic keeper.
A smirk and a pinch meant “love”.
He ate jam on toast at 7am sharp.
His daughter wore whorish nail polish,
another mistake he’d eventually forgotten.
At Eighty, trembling his hands;
he put on the nights hockey game
meeting death on a shoot out.
Embracing the warm uncertainty
of the son he left behind.
Only to set sail again.
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 1:35 AM UTC
Thoughts are deadly
Thinking of you is like clawing at the raw insides of my cheeks
Heat rising thought the layers of my skin
And licking my throat
Hot coffee I down
Assuming it'll drown my brain
But it only adds to the passion
The ice cold that envelopes my heart
Placing a stamp in the opposite corner
Of the pre-assigned box
Mailing a pumping heart through post
An unconventional love letter
A cigarette burning
The glowing stub tracing images on my arms
Unintentional tattoos
Salty cheeks
Playing cards reflected in diamond tears
I play my heart across the
Green velvet table
Unintentional paper cuts
Bed sheets full of blood ink
Poetry and love songs scratched from dark dreams
By rusty fingers and mascara
Bruised knees creak as they bend
Facing in opposite directions
Ankles kissing through unstable skates
Shaking hands braid damp hair
Bitten pens bleed ink down my throat
By now my blood must run with ink
My own beating drum my best work
Cracks through time
And whispers through space
Only tempt me to trace the freckles on your legs
I use empty bottles of wine for mirrors
Apply my third coat of blood red lipstick
I used to think the moon followed me
I used to think if I shone a flashlight I could climb up
And I was scared someone would turn off my staircase
My bones shattering like the weakest diamonds
Dilated pupils paired with a racing pulse
My love song beating
Tapping my fingers on the coffee table.
Morse code screaming I love yous.
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 4:14 PM UTC
Dear Mrs. Lorraine;
It brings me a great deal of pain
to tell you that for the third time
(and really this should be a crime)
that the score on your credit
you gave us was not how you said it
We know that the offer sent in the mail
said no credit check, but read the fine print
it said that that was on approved credit.
So with all the due respects, we respectfully
and with understandable distain, regretfully
must inform you that your credit has been declined
and if you must so be inclined
to ask why we even bothered writing this letter
we, by local and state law, (and mostly the latter)
are required to inform you that you are worth nothing
zero, zilch, nada. So with respect and courtesy
stop sending in applications, for you see
This company is trying to go green
and with every application you **** another tree
And also, with a courteous plea
(and this is just between you and me)
I am really getting tired of staying after hours
to write the responses to these repeated declines.
So if you could do us all a favor, stop replying to
the falsely advertised credit cards we send you
This will take an effort on your end, because
the marketing department won't remove you
from the mailing list without just cause.
-We greatly appreciate your business-
Sincerely from the credit department;
-Chris
Feb 24, 2011
Feb 24, 2011 at 7:53 AM UTC
I lit the candle
with two hydros,
and burned the house
down with a bottle
of whiskey. The next
morning I wandered
through the ashes
looking for shower
invitations and aspirin.
Back in bars, filled
with screaming amps
and glaring ex lovers
I wove my way
in-between old friends
and mating dances,
losing Hemingway
and storm clouds.
I dropped the anchor
in your apartment,
falling mid sentence
into stain ridden furniture
and empty Budweiser bottles.
The only thing I broke
that night, was my determination
on not being a blow up doll
molded after some girl
I was never going to be.
So I laid there kissing
ghosts and shook
with a fever and chills
vibrating like telephones
on silent. And you wondered
where I went once
the door closed.
You can't define cordial as
branding someone
and mailing them back
to a delusional soul falling
in love with them
after. Hot metal
pokers weren't made
for joyous reunions.
They make sure you
always know where
you leave your scars.
May 1, 2012
May 1, 2012 at 6:39 PM UTC
last English class of the day, hoodie on, earphones on, Modest Mouse Ocean Breathes Salty, sun half-way down, subtly setting, slight breeze, hold down hoodie as I walk, half-empty parking lot. a lot of halves. many things empty, never the mind. language is strange and fascinating. there is a single brown leather boot in the center of the freeway’s entrance cross walk. I notice this, it moves me. lost soles in the city. I image myself getting run over by a passerby, a single navy Sk8-Hi left behind. everything is a story. Del Taco drive-thru, two-for-four fish tacos, I’ve given up on any other kind of meat. Pescatarian I’ll tell them from now on if they ask. It doesn’t make anything better, it doesn’t undo what’s already been done, but at least I’m not contributing to the damage. At least I have that choice. Teenage girl in red beanie, black Adidas joggers, spray can in hand. It is Thursday, this is the city I live in. The Strokes released four new songs today, I signed up for their mailing list. I might go out for dinner later on, but until then I’m not anywhere else.
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 10:48 PM UTC
Keep your stamps and letters
Don't invite me to a meeting
If you keep them coming
I'll treat you to a beating
Groups all seem to want me
But the feeling's not the same
Go and find your mailing list
And please remove my name
oh....
I won't join any club that would have me as a member
I've a memory like an elephant
so, don't send me application forms
Because you know I will remember
Oh, It must be freezing down in hell
In fact it must be snowing
I came today, just to say
Hello, I must be going
Don't ask me to sign up again
Please don't be deluded
Check your list and you'll find me
In the column marked excluded
Oh
I won't join any club that would have me as a member
I've a memory like an elephant
so, don't send me application forms
Because you know I will remember
Oh, It must be freezing down in hell
In fact it must be snowing
I came today, just to say
Hello, I must be going
Save your money, save your stamps
You know just what to do
Stop calling, stop the letters
Please, I'm asking you
The only group with membership
Costs me more, due to my brothers
Is family, and even then
I think we had different mothers
oh,I won't join any club that would have me as a member
I've a memory like an elephant
so, don't send me application forms
Because you know I will remember
Oh, It must be freezing down in hell
In fact it must be snowing
I came today, just to say
Hello, I must be going
I will not join any club that would have me as a member
I'll tell you now, and then again, I'll tell you in September
The world is a much better place, if on your list my name's not showing
So here I am, with you to say...Hello, I must be going
Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 12:27 AM UTC
Capitalizing on my looks, I thought
captivating personality.
I asked to take me home, my girl,
take me home tonight with you;
To the land of far off myths, my girl,
of make believe and fantasy.
Take me home my new found friend.
Take me home with you tonight
to the locks and docks downtown,
to the foothills of the Port.
Once I said hello, I knew.
Once your hand was deep in mine,
I couldn’t help but wonder, girl
were we headed for some bliss,
or a land of distant past.
Take me home I begged, take me home.
Take me home my lovely friend.
Take me home with you at last.
To the locks and docks downtown
To the foothills of the Port.
Spacious skies appeared once more
in my thoughtful, thoughtless mind.
The billowy clouds shadowing
all that was left for me.
Away I know, but I don’t know where,
take me home my Miss, take me home.
“It is not your need to know such things
I’m not going home with you.
To the locks or docks downtown,
nor the foothills of the Port.”
Forget the docks, the locks, the Port
I didn’t like you anyway.
I’m simply a postman in distress
who knew your mailing address.
Take me home my girl, take me home,
to the outer reaches of my town .
I only wanted to find my way
but forgot my GPS.
Dec 7, 2010
Dec 7, 2010 at 7:34 AM UTC
A hippy child by birth
Preordained as a psychic,
Gyspie of thieving church.
Dandelions art their thirst
Days groweth colder
Downtime gets worse
Smiling faces sicken them
When others smile back
Melatonin
Vitamin d
F
And c
Sickened by mailing
Babble trawling
Click lick chatter
Bit wit batter
Shocked to sloth
And madness of creepiness..
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 5:19 PM UTC
an utterance of folly
her natural unvarnished thoughts
spill slowly from her adorned lip
and crawl forth to battle his opposing view
her words crowd his ear
a thousand angry little versions of her
with sword in hand coming to slay the misbehaving dragon
of his free will
his own thoughts flee as one
from the opposite side ear
with furtive glances back
hoping to escape unscathed
his own folly
childlike in form
plays marbles
looking for that elusive Aggie
called inner peace
together they amble down
country road
both shouting the random formulas
for completing and mailing
the required forms for
a visa to paradise
its roads are paved with candy
she insists
its hills are carved from
pure chocolate he interjects
neither realize its paradise because
it lacks the likes of them
he kisses her adorned lip
and tastes the metal of her
resolve to endure
she french's her tongue into
the small spaces of his mind
and savors the spices of his
need to flee
whats needed here they devise
compromise is a plate of cold fish
seal it in a bottle and cast it overboard
perhaps their lives shall find a sandy shore
to rest their every weary
makeout machine
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 6:30 AM UTC
feels liberating
these little first world problems
resolved by unsubscribing
from an annoying mailing list
or deleting an aged account
that is useless, created on a whim
filling in-boxes with spam and junk
killing social media links,
paring back digital presences
all with the idea
of spending less time farting about
more time creating, living, reading
but they **** you back
with 2 for 1 deals, 10% off,
free for a month, look we’ve added
some **** and yeah, it costs more, but
our life will be better with it
so the rest of the night
is filled with creating spam filters
more unsubscribing, more account deletions
until someone recommends you sign up for
the new revolutionary internet saviour
the be all and end all of all your woes
it will make you stronger, faster, more
organised, less likely to drink yourself
to sleep each night, give you the power
of 10 rhinos, and the ****** prowess of
a puma!
probably best to disconnect now
turn off the router, unplug the modem
get your **** the old fashioned way
before they tie your nervous system
to the silicon pathways
and advertise to your dreams
Nov 25, 2011
Nov 25, 2011 at 8:23 AM UTC
Do you remember:
Watching Harry Potter and pretending the characters were our classmates,
while sitting on your couch eating Dominos,
the spices stinging my split lip.
Naming our sleepovers,
E-mailing "Jennifer is tomorrow".
Slurping mint Klondike bars in your hot tub,
Autumn rain pittering from the trees,
and playing truth-or-dare sitting in front of the jets.
Throwing your old toys in the road
and waiting for them to get run over
until my dad arrived.
Videotaping our feet
in the golden light
and the deleting them to save space
Walking to your house after watching "The video" at school
and giggling past the rivers of rust.
Honestly, I thought
we were going to be friends forever.
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 4:33 PM UTC
lately i've been having these good days
i don't have sad wet cigarette saxophone nights anymore
i watched the sun wake up six times last week
i found a blue bucket of tulips &
gave them to a bald-headed krishna girl when
she sang to me on the sidewalk
i hired a boy to hide in the foyer
& peel a fiddle if i rouse from sleep during the night
or whistle through a harmonica
if i'm wet-eyed during breakfast
i finally got rid of all the pictures you stuck
to your side of the dusty bathroom mirror
except the blissed-out polaroid of us
perched on an old oak tree limb
like a couple of soft doves versus the turreted sunset
i deleted your number because you don't call me back anyway
i stopped mailing letters to your father's house
i haven't listened to the Plantasia record
you bought me since you left
i never feel the gray heat from your
staticky hand warming my shoulder
i forgave you for the blood in my kidneys
& old smog in my mildewed vinyl lungs
i sleep under the running green vapor light
of the moon & stars instead of the frothiest pillows
rippling on an ocean of sheets & project quilts
i finally scoured the lipstick stain from my collarbone
after what seemed like two years
i forgot how your armpits smelled
i sewed all your sundresses into a shower curtain
& i never see your delicate ribcage
peaking through the streams of hot water
i hardly ever notice the noose
you left hanging in our apartment
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 4:20 PM UTC