"refold" poems - Hello Poetry

you tell me i'm the first person you ever really loved we lie in bed and you stroke my hair as if it's something i live for you to do after our drunken bodies intertwined on the couch to American Beauty tears of frustration from my paper eyelids why can't i control my outbursts why am i so sad why can't i find anything to make me happy you sit across the room and refold my green blouse for the 13th time and gaze at my suitcase i realize you could never comfort me again turning away because i can't bare to look at your face you're sorry you lied and you thought it would be better if i didn't know and now we're in a sauna in italy two bottles of wine down and i can't tell if this is passion or desperation passionate desperation it was the last time your lips kissed my neck and i think back on my mistakes and i crush them up and i snort them there is an ocean between us and theres no reason you wouldn't think that she's prettier i always made fun of you for liking the front bottoms i push your hand off of my thigh as i sob into my plate at breakfast i cry in the airport when the lady from customs asks me about my trip i cry harder when she says she hopes i can visit you again soon we embrace for the very last time i tell you to never speak to me again you don't you never looked back as i pulled my suitcase through security i wish you had i'm really sorry about the front bottoms

0

Feb 24, 2016

Feb 24, 2016 at 10:50 PM UTC

allyson-d

the front bottoms

you tell me i'm the first person you ever really loved we lie in bed and you stroke my hair as if it's something i live for you to do after our drunken bodies intertwined on the couch to American Beauty tears of frustration from my paper eyelids why can't i control my outbursts why am i so sad why can't i find anything to make me happy you sit across the room and refold my green blouse for the 13th time and gaze at my suitcase i realize you could never comfort me again turning away because i can't bare to look at your face you're sorry you lied and you thought it would be better if i didn't know and now we're in a sauna in italy two bottles of wine down and i can't tell if this is passion or desperation passionate desperation it was the last time your lips kissed my neck and i think back on my mistakes and i crush them up and i snort them there is an ocean between us and theres no reason you wouldn't think that she's prettier i always made fun of you for liking the front bottoms i push your hand off of my thigh as i sob into my plate at breakfast i cry in the airport when the lady from customs asks me about my trip i cry harder when she says she hopes i can visit you again soon we embrace for the very last time i tell you to never speak to me again you don't you never looked back as i pulled my suitcase through security i wish you had i'm really sorry about the front bottoms

27

A simple idea recorded on paper, a circle in a circle—splendidly taper. Like an egg in an egg—forever fertile. Like a phoenix’s birth, emerge from the kindle. With each welcome to life comes a new lesson; with the experience of yore as your weapon. Continue with the task to chisel the tip-- ceasing only to rest-- 'til that spherical disc announces a new day. We can develop a new way to refold the envelope’s sealed note. The poem you have enclosed has your aside-- “Your Attention: ‘A simple idea’ is inside.”

0

Apr 2, 2012

Apr 2, 2012 at 2:01 AM UTC

sean-yessayan

Life: Drawing the Circle

A simple idea recorded on paper, a circle in a circle—splendidly taper. Like an egg in an egg—forever fertile. Like a phoenix’s birth, emerge from the kindle. With each welcome to life comes a new lesson; with the experience of yore as your weapon. Continue with the task to chisel the tip-- ceasing only to rest-- 'til that spherical disc announces a new day. We can develop a new way to refold the envelope’s sealed note. The poem you have enclosed has your aside-- “Your Attention: ‘A simple idea’ is inside.”

12

Completely erase me. Slow down your steady breaths. Refold and replace me. Sincerity for clarity. A bare bone stare screams I’m not really here But I’m more than that. Poised position against collapse. At least I’m in the same space as you; shaping you and erasing you so that I can know your face through the light of my Rhythmically, Balanced, Interchange. So subtle forms form you like pulse beats pulled from my stillness by desire to extend. Shared silences build my love. Give just to re-give. Cycles of our spirals. Spin, twist, and unfold again. You will know me forever by becoming us and each one each other. While I have done the same and felt this love for you my heavy burdens saved for illusion have dropped from my weight and pulled me from my clay’s haze of blind sights and restless quakes. Cosmic clutch softly, to save me; completely erase me, baby, asking, whispering … Hearts in balance. Go steady with me?

0

Feb 3, 2013

Feb 3, 2013 at 8:07 AM UTC

ryan-wesley-tyarks

Cosmic Clutch Softly Catch Me.

Completely erase me. Slow down your steady breaths. Refold and replace me. Sincerity for clarity. A bare bone stare screams I’m not really here But I’m more than that. Poised position against collapse. At least I’m in the same space as you; shaping you and erasing you so that I can know your face through the light of my Rhythmically, Balanced, Interchange. So subtle forms form you like pulse beats pulled from my stillness by desire to extend. Shared silences build my love. Give just to re-give. Cycles of our spirals. Spin, twist, and unfold again. You will know me forever by becoming us and each one each other. While I have done the same and felt this love for you my heavy burdens saved for illusion have dropped from my weight and pulled me from my clay’s haze of blind sights and restless quakes. Cosmic clutch softly, to save me; completely erase me, baby, asking, whispering … Hearts in balance. Go steady with me?

34

I knew we were poison when loving her started to look a lot like hating myself, and when I could no longer consume without tasting the bite of her venom. She told me that if I loved her then I would tell her. Yet when she said those three words to me the same phrase fell from my mouth and onto the floor before I realized what I had done. I never asked her what she was doing because I couldn’t picture her doing nothing like I could picture her on the way here. And I laughed at her when she asked me if I thought my boyfriend was prettier than her. But she only lived in the first time I got to know what I was, and what I was, was on fire. I loved her the way an animal loves gnawing off its own limb caught in a bear trap. Disgusting, isn’t it? Whenever it rained she couldn’t get out of bed for two days. Not because the rain made her sad, but because of the earth worms. They would take refuge from their flooding homes onto our sidewalk to get crushed by faceless pedestrians, or dry up like their dirt shelters in the sun. She used to tell me on sunny days that alone we were both miraculous, so together we would be nothing short of an act of God. But on stormy days however, she told me that God was poorly written metaphor. Now she just watches me repeatedly refold my napkin in my lap. It seems we always make excuses for the people we wish were different. Three days before I left she held her hand out and asked me if I wanted the world as if it wasn’t written all over my face. It rained the day before I left. She was watching the earth worms on our sidewalk when I packed up my binoculars and picked up those three words I dropped on our floor many months ago. She turned and said, “You either love me forever, or you never did.” And I explained how I would no longer allow her to lead me to pieces, and shut the door.

0

Jan 13, 2015

Jan 13, 2015 at 11:04 PM UTC

claire-mullins

Letter to a Stranger

I knew we were poison when loving her started to look a lot like hating myself, and when I could no longer consume without tasting the bite of her venom. She told me that if I loved her then I would tell her. Yet when she said those three words to me the same phrase fell from my mouth and onto the floor before I realized what I had done. I never asked her what she was doing because I couldn’t picture her doing nothing like I could picture her on the way here. And I laughed at her when she asked me if I thought my boyfriend was prettier than her. But she only lived in the first time I got to know what I was, and what I was, was on fire. I loved her the way an animal loves gnawing off its own limb caught in a bear trap. Disgusting, isn’t it? Whenever it rained she couldn’t get out of bed for two days. Not because the rain made her sad, but because of the earth worms. They would take refuge from their flooding homes onto our sidewalk to get crushed by faceless pedestrians, or dry up like their dirt shelters in the sun. She used to tell me on sunny days that alone we were both miraculous, so together we would be nothing short of an act of God. But on stormy days however, she told me that God was poorly written metaphor. Now she just watches me repeatedly refold my napkin in my lap. It seems we always make excuses for the people we wish were different. Three days before I left she held her hand out and asked me if I wanted the world as if it wasn’t written all over my face. It rained the day before I left. She was watching the earth worms on our sidewalk when I packed up my binoculars and picked up those three words I dropped on our floor many months ago. She turned and said, “You either love me forever, or you never did.” And I explained how I would no longer allow her to lead me to pieces, and shut the door.

4

To err on the side of caution here is not to try at all Fold, unfold and refold to stare at clipped wings With the icy squalls and treacherous winds Perhaps not to fly is a blessing after all Tarry not, come whispers from lonesome depths Subterfuge is no sin for a weary heart To receive and not give and not come apart Only the lucky and the naive dare take the plunge Down the crimson stained ravines in which the fallen still lie fresh Dashed on jagged edges of lovers' valleys steep Embitterment on their tongues as the rocks on jellied flesh Plagued with numbness by day and nightmares in sleep Lock, unlock and relock this sepulchre of emotion then Let me out of here and perish with these thoughts Tread forbidden paths all over their souls They crisscross like passions and tangle in knots Unscathed forevermore, immortal be the insouciant

0

Mar 30, 2016

Mar 30, 2016 at 4:05 AM UTC

clxrion

Intransigent

To err on the side of caution here is not to try at all Fold, unfold and refold to stare at clipped wings With the icy squalls and treacherous winds Perhaps not to fly is a blessing after all Tarry not, come whispers from lonesome depths Subterfuge is no sin for a weary heart To receive and not give and not come apart Only the lucky and the naive dare take the plunge Down the crimson stained ravines in which the fallen still lie fresh Dashed on jagged edges of lovers' valleys steep Embitterment on their tongues as the rocks on jellied flesh Plagued with numbness by day and nightmares in sleep Lock, unlock and relock this sepulchre of emotion then Let me out of here and perish with these thoughts Tread forbidden paths all over their souls They crisscross like passions and tangle in knots Unscathed forevermore, immortal be the insouciant

17

The floor is littered with, what would look to those left untouched by love, as meaningless scraps of paper. With trembling hands I rescue the receipts and tickets, salvaging memories unusually ripe with premature nostalgia. I scan over the purchases, gripping the thermal coating with fragile fingers. Each one is folded delicately, and tucked away into the shoebox residing under my closet. I reopen every single one, scattering them around me as if to pretend they are still relevant, and required organizing immediately. With these fruits of the mind, I have now acquired a new collection of dates which when reviewed in the future, will exhibit yet another time in my little life of impossible joy. The pattern is you A timeline of you meeting my gaze, touching my mouth, touching my soul A flush of the skin, a wandering hand, the tearing of fabric, spreading, gripping, grinding, licking, playing Kissing I **** my fingers away from my lips, which are now throbbing from the pressure. The evidence of your physical love cannot be put in the box, so I drive my fingers harder into the love bite. I take a single receipt with me for today. I refold it with the same care, and lodge it deep within my front jean pocket, I love you. And my day is absolutely fine, simple almost. I don’t think or eat, but I sleep; this is easy for me. Sleeping alone is so cruel. I wake up to find that during my sleep I had lost a sock. I make your joke and break my own heart. I throw away the sock out of anger. Upon standing from my pathetic slumber, I feel an unbearable pounding in my head. I lag to the medicine cabinet for some sweet relief, and continue into the bathroom where I am quickly exposed to your absence. My mouth falls open in shock; I reach for the receipt but my hands do not cooperate. And there I fall to my knees, destroyed. As I sob, your watermelon scent only suffers slight contamination by the salt.

0

Aug 5, 2018

Aug 5, 2018 at 3:16 PM UTC

livi-1

Nine

The floor is littered with, what would look to those left untouched by love, as meaningless scraps of paper. With trembling hands I rescue the receipts and tickets, salvaging memories unusually ripe with premature nostalgia. I scan over the purchases, gripping the thermal coating with fragile fingers. Each one is folded delicately, and tucked away into the shoebox residing under my closet. I reopen every single one, scattering them around me as if to pretend they are still relevant, and required organizing immediately. With these fruits of the mind, I have now acquired a new collection of dates which when reviewed in the future, will exhibit yet another time in my little life of impossible joy. The pattern is you A timeline of you meeting my gaze, touching my mouth, touching my soul A flush of the skin, a wandering hand, the tearing of fabric, spreading, gripping, grinding, licking, playing Kissing I **** my fingers away from my lips, which are now throbbing from the pressure. The evidence of your physical love cannot be put in the box, so I drive my fingers harder into the love bite. I take a single receipt with me for today. I refold it with the same care, and lodge it deep within my front jean pocket, I love you. And my day is absolutely fine, simple almost. I don’t think or eat, but I sleep; this is easy for me. Sleeping alone is so cruel. I wake up to find that during my sleep I had lost a sock. I make your joke and break my own heart. I throw away the sock out of anger. Upon standing from my pathetic slumber, I feel an unbearable pounding in my head. I lag to the medicine cabinet for some sweet relief, and continue into the bathroom where I am quickly exposed to your absence. My mouth falls open in shock; I reach for the receipt but my hands do not cooperate. And there I fall to my knees, destroyed. As I sob, your watermelon scent only suffers slight contamination by the salt.

13