"segways" poems
Haikus: somewhat lame.
They serve better as segways
Between my poems.
May 6, 2010
May 6, 2010 at 4:08 PM UTC
I grew up
reading books about
boys
who say things like,
"You're so beautiful,"
or
"God, I can't believe
I've never known you
before"
and they kiss the girl
and they fall in love
and maybe there's a struggle
somewhere in the middle
but everything is
o k a y
and in the moments after
hearing how beautiful
and wonderful
and amazing
she is,
the girl is happy,
the girl is loved,
the girl is l o v e d.
The last boy who told me I was beautiful
didn't listen
when i said
NO
and I sobbed in my own bed
for three nights
and I couldn't touch my sheets
for five
because it takes a long time
to get blood stains out
when you use the cheap washers
in the dorms.
The last boy who told me I was amazing
left me at five in the morning
and said he'd call
and even as he looked me in the eye,
I knew he wouldn't.
The last boy who told me he liked me
said so as he tried to push my head
in a direction I didn't want it to go
and it seems
that all of these compliments
are meant to be segways
into getting something more.
These compliments
have turned into warnings,
red lights,
get out,
get out,
he only wants you
for your body
and I don't know
how I am ever supposed
to believe someone
when they actually mean it
when all I know
is sugar-coated bullets.
I am reading a book
where the boy whispers
promises between kisses
and I realize
I have never kissed anyone in
the light
and I am numb inside
and I do not want to be called
beautiful
anymore because to me
that means I am
about to be shot.
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 12:51 AM UTC
Sometimes I worry
about the amount of things
I will have
left
to say to you next time -
should I make a list?
How will I account for segways?
(You take a lot of detours
and I follow in fear that you'll walk
away,
but I'm expected to find my way
back.)
I'll bring breadcrumbs next time;
maybe ducks will eat them though.
As long as I'm with you, anywhere
feels right.
Like on your kitchen counter,
sipping sickly sweet grape juice
while you microwaved popcorn.
Or on the stairs in the basement -
where I discovered your heart
beat
and you discovered that my lips are sweet.
Or crouched on the tiles behind the cabinet
with tears puddling around me
and I text you instructions not to call
but you
still
tried,
7 times,
and you said that it's okay if I say nothing.
Back to square one:
we find ourselves with phones to our ears -
(yours possibly taped to your head because
you like to eat at
1 am)
in silence together.
At some point, I cave -
'What's the point of this? We could be silent and not on the phone with each other.'
You reply - 'It's just better this way because I can
Feel you.'
We'll never run out of silence
because now it's all we have.
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 4:07 PM UTC