"misremember" poems
I've given up writing December.
I swear I tried, but these lines
don't seem to care; The drugs never work.
The haze of blinking eyes and wasted time
feels like infinity. I want to misremember
those wide eyed faces and your smirk
when you said you were mine. (Words like knives.)
I knew it was fatal as soon as you whispered that lie.
I swear... I've given up this December.
My words can't dig up the dirt
to bury these Winter memories
and these lonely goodbyes...
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 12:58 AM UTC
Your seriously getting mad at me?
For trying to find something fun for the whole family?
Saying I'm being a bother, I'm such a liar
Why do you always get so mean?
No other opinions
No other thoughts
Gonna fuss and repeat yourself
When you could've just said
"No, we cannot"
Calling everyone crazy
When its actually you!
You also make mistakes and misremember
Just accept that your human, too!
I know I have my faults, my lies and such
But I'm just so tired cause I can't speak up
Gotta keep it all in
My mom signals me to "hush"
For patience, I'm just gonna pray
Cause the less I say
The less you do
I accept I can't say how I feel
Cause YOU'll NEVER LISTEN DUDE
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 1:58 AM UTC
There are days when I forget
Misremember
Wander
Lost in a cacophony
Of bruising thoughts and jagged
Tumultuous
Phrases
Rising from my mind like rocks
To break skin and
Snap bone
Words that are leveled at me
By my own lips
Or yours
Words that settled on my heart
Crooked and cruel
Scarring
Lurking there always even
When I know most
Are lies
So I have written new words
On my body
My skin
Bears marks
In permanent pain and ink
Indelible
Phrases
To turn to when I forget
Misremember
My name
The ways in which I am good
Worthy of love
Desired
Courageous and deserving.
Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 7:22 PM UTC
The crowd moves without murmurs.
You don’t know when it started.
But you remember the day
you packed your bags and joined them.
The crowd moves without murmurs.
No one knows where to anymore,
they remember or misremember
old tales of the light that had opened up in the sky.
The crowd moves without murmurs
like cattle being led to their slaughter;
a beautiful and glorious death awaits.
Old tales of the light set to swallow us one by one.
Someone starts speaking:
‘ I’m sick of waiting in line for this.’
‘ It’s a sham’
‘ It’s a heaven you blasphemous fools’
‘ It’s a sham. Wake up. You’re living in darkness.’
The crowd moves on, as conversations break off.
Some break off into different directions.
Most continue to wait in line, moving slowly.
You don’t know which way to go.
Jun 24, 2017
Jun 24, 2017 at 3:35 PM UTC
Lest we omit, from the pulse of our lives
The primality of a noiseless warmth,
Awake against a skin as sallow as the city
And its lifeless lines and cloisters.
Lest we see always with seamless clarity
The governance of chaos' chimes,
In unravelling the little knots of midday light
Tied about our youthful eyelashes.
Lest we lament our blindnesses,
In relentless pursuit of space and time,
Lest we forget those very intimacies
Which lace our shoes as the roots of trees.
And in the ache of prestige which loosens the cobbles
Lest we neglect the ache of being in the air;
Above the weeping of the bookish bends there is
The residue of the primal silence.
And so let us misremember the freedoms children know,
And ambling, intrepid as we came, like lovers' hands
Fall upon a truth discovered long since,
To realise it's our own.
Feb 28, 2019
Feb 28, 2019 at 10:04 AM UTC
Sometimes I think my love is resting
on the couch from the sidewalk
picking 'part polyester nesting
an undulating thrum manifesting
I'll tell you at the kitchen table
that I've been nowhere lately
In the park across the street
is where we skip your track meet
my legs damp from where we sat
Now in the cool centre of December
with no personal effects to speak of
you tell me a story I'll misremember
Is there power still, an ember
your boss holds your check again
and I call him up and quit for you
Close my eyes for a second
your nails like little almonds
where they touch my cheek
you lift away and I fall asleep.
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 4:03 AM UTC
. (or: the night I vanished while still in the room) .
He stopped coming home late—
not out of guilt, but because
there was nothing left to hide.
I watched him re-enter
like a man returning to a house he built
on land that was only technically¹ mine.
My scent had faded from the sheets.
His cologne now lingered longer than my voice.
He called me darling
in the same tone I used to use
when I meant goodbye.
I touched his back one night,
the way I used to trace stars across it,
and he flinched—
not like it hurt,
but like it meant nothing.
The watch on my wrist had stopped ticking.
I hadn’t noticed in days.
Over dinner,
he quoted my own stories back to me,
trimmed for elegance,
rearranged for effect.
“I don’t remember it like that,” I said.
“You weren’t meant to,” he replied,
not cruelly—just… correctly.
The eclipse doesn’t apologize for the sun.
In the mirror,
I saw only one of us
reflected clearly.
And it wasn’t me.
I asked him what he wanted.
He said,
“Everything you’ve ever had.”
And smiled like he already did.
I laughed.
He didn’t laugh back.
I told him I loved him.
He said,
“I know.
That’s why this had to happen.”
And somewhere in that moment,
between my mouth opening
and his walking away,
I became myth—
the kind they misremember
on purpose.
Jun 24, 2025
Jun 24, 2025 at 10:16 PM UTC
if i went back,
stood in the park i called a home,
i would hear your worn-down
skateboard wheels barreling towards me. knocking me down,
your mass pinning me to the gravel car park
as your ghost passes through me,
eager.
i feel you grab my hand, like peter pan, to drag me
to your own neverland.
sun-splattered walls pull time to an unwilling halt.
i misremember the shape of our tomb, i enlarge its shrinking walls and see every blue-and-red inch coated in a thick golden facade
of safety.
i wish to stay in that death sentence.
in the twelve hours before the guilt kicked in, before you
punched my gut with truth.
the streets stained grey, i walk.
precariously placing one bandaged foot in front of the other.
the green looks yellow.
the gold turned to harsh white
that burns my skin to ash.
your memory lies, basking in its reign
over my blue-and-red brain, ringing with your influence.
i sit on dead grass, outside a house i wanted to call home.
i watch a light flicker off from inside a broken window.
your broken window on your broken room.
silver moonlight casts shadows of the days i held your hand.
i wonder if you see me smiling, just for a moment,
but you don't live here anymore.
Sep 18, 2019
Sep 18, 2019 at 5:38 PM UTC