"sniffly" poems
Your sniffly nose.
Your hoarse voice.
Your sore throat.
You push me away.
You don't want me to stay.
Not tonight.
You're not feeling right.
But, I want to be there for you.
I want to care for you.
I want to make you, your favorite,
chicken noodle soup.
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 4:16 PM UTC
twitchy sniffly noses
silky bracelets woven
a sennight of whispers
and soft rains fallen
bones strident ringing
skins slow submerging
bloodshot eyes and
star-shot skies and
cheekbones shrouded
in staling chlorine
sneaking syrup smiles
under honey gold
four tonics drowned
to fight off the cold
and fast fortune-telling
for finites foretold
trace the lines and
face the folds, please
hold both palms closer
but leave them closed
twitchy ditzy fingers
***** rings unspooled
a sennight of stories
and sinking in pools
bones washed in phenol
skins slick like ferrule
bloodshot minds and
star-shot why’s and
wisteria lips speckled in
the warmest shade of cool.
Jan 26, 2022
Jan 26, 2022 at 8:01 PM UTC
If you raise a knuckle to your eye
And draw away one salty circle,
Perfectly symmetrical,
Then why have a tear at all?
If crying inconveniences you
No more than a sniffly nose,
No make-up smears,
Then your tears did not water the world.
If you can sob an ocean into your pillow
But pull away when thinking of the mess you made
Instead of just crying harder,
Then I hope for you to be forever cursed
By that one person who holds a mirror
In front of your unrecognizable face.
Apr 29, 2011
Apr 29, 2011 at 4:58 AM UTC
the ultimate graciousness that is of you. Back from California, my witching ground, the place I still eschew from the pyre- you came back to me. And even as we spoke during your adventures, and even though I read of your exploration. The last day of your trip I could just tell how something was hurting you, how had you let this state inundate you with its adulterous poppies.
And after you arrived, the kisses and the kissing, the touching, and your cheek to mine, we caught the truth staring each other in the eyes. And you lost it. Eyes swollen, lips trembling, so I layed with you, touching your hands, your face, I combed my fingers through your hair, until we both could take a breath.
You told me everything. A boy you thought you would never meet, a kiss you thought you would never draw. I became so sad I could barely lapse a sentence from my mouth, as I watched you get sniffly and sadder. Black eye liner pouring down into my pillow. But there was no blame, shame, or guilt that you should have. We all have our libations. You and I both are perfectly imperfect, and so human that we have the liability of spotting enamoring, harmonic beauty in the souls of others. I just begged you to stop scorning yourself. You looked at me to scold or scorn you, ask you to leave or retreat, but I couldn't even break a whisper. You told me how such feelings still lasted, and how much mirth you received from touching tongues with this someone else I didn't know.
You are only guilty of being in love with me, kissing me on my hands, arms, lips, face, and legs. I insisted that we resolve this tonight so we don't ruin the today we have by dwelling on the past. You assured me that you wouldn't be moving permanently to California, I just kept insisting that you remain honest- and you were completely open every step of the way. I explained how I have committed similar acts and imbibed on prurient journeys of my own, offering to share, compare, and clear up the past by accepting our youths for what our youths are for.
I am the best version of me I can be, and there is no competition, should you wish to dance in the other room and tack down what we loved so immensely in each other, and then came downward-facing-dog, we were both only in underwear. It was that we couldn't say anything else with our mouths or our pens. You were never pretend for me.
The air is falling like a serpent fissuring on the cusp of a sneeze and blast of fire. We are the greatest and worst of ourselves.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 8:42 PM UTC
I've embraced the idea that you don't care
You opened the door and a dog barked, i was there
I wondered if it was mad at me
But there I was, walking not on the street but sniffly on the sidewalk
I didn't see the car pass
It was if i had jumped forward in time and blacked out
And jumped with my feet but they never left that gravel
And as I stumbled along the doldrums
The silence was deafening
But the boat was not sinking
And neither was my resolve to pedal through
Looking for a warm wind
To catch my drift and lift me into a bend
I think my empty gaze scared that lady
But she evidently won't be scared tomorrow
Certainly not of a schoolboy like me
Which leaves my feet to be clumsy
Walking one over the other in a death march to-be
Feb 9, 2025
Feb 9, 2025 at 5:54 PM UTC
Pian
Pian
The scars on my wrists are reminders.
The fresh cuts sting and burn, The red of my blood brings me release of pain that I feel inside. The pain of the sharp and the sight of the blood, it reminds me that I’m alive. But now it just there, there is no pain just numb.
Pain
I’m not scared of death.
No on the contrary I invite it with open arms.
No I’m scared of living. The thought of life is what chills me to the bone. That feeling that I don’t live up to society's standards. That I’ll be treated diffrently if I don’t fit the description of a cis girl.
Pain
It comes in the form of a dress, of long hair, of makeup, of *******
It does not come in the form of a broken limb or a gun wound.
It is not a physical pain. Though it can be more inhabilitating than a broken leg. You no longer have the strength or will to get out of bed. Or even live anymore.
Pain
It comes from those who do not understand
It comes from words spoken about you but not to you. It comes from betrail of the highest form. That of a friend, of a lover, of family. They talk. Thats what gives you the power to take those pills. To bury the knife so deep in your wrist they can’t take it out. To put that rope necklace on and push away the only thing holding you up.
Pain
It is the friends you push away that can’t help you
It’s the feeling of pure depression. It’s not a sickness that you can see. You don’t cough, you don’t have a sniffly nose, you aren’t pale, you don’t have a fever of 127. You are so tierd becuause if you sleep you dream but can’t call it dreaming. It’s only nighmares.
Pain
It’s not what you think it is.
It’s like a friend who never leaves. Deppression lives with you and you can’t escape it. It slowly invades your sleep and every waking second.
Pain
For me my deppression is my body
My skinny waist, big hips, and big ******* From my round face to my girly voice. My shortness and my slender hands and tiny feet. My deppression is my Dysphoria. She huants me when I look in the mirror. I see it in the faces of my friends. So I push them away.
Pain
It’s feeling so loney that it feels as tough you can’t go on any more
It’s pushing away your friends when you need them the most becuse you don’t wan to hurt them if you do leave. And you consider making life better for everyone including yourself by ending it all. Those pills, that blade, the knife, or the necklace of rope makes you feel free.
Pain
No more PAIN
No more PAIN
NO MORE PAIN
PAIN
Jan 18, 2021
Jan 18, 2021 at 11:07 PM UTC