"teavana" poems - Hello Poetry

The Vanilla Bean Frappuccino, who brings chills down my spine every time. Sweet on the inside, cold-hearted on the outside, Especially when he leaves me high and dry in the morning unexpectedly. He’ll remind me that I’m alive, And make me feel Zen for a split second, Then he splits in a second. Or The Caramel Macchiato, Tall with a sophisticated smile And unrealistically hazel eyes That read “bello” around his irises. With a shot of expression— He’s never afraid to speak how he feels. But that’s just the Italian in him. Or The Pumpkin Spice Latte, The most popular guy. He’ll warm me up when I’m cold; And make me feel like I’m his only one, He’ll tell me everything I want to hear, Then he’ll disappear without a sign— At least until the next year, Only to continue the same cycle over again. Or The Cappuccino, He’s got a strong mind like those French roast blends With a secret soft side. He speaks with fluidity and is As charismatic as the rest. He’s a morning person nonetheless, And won’t leave me loveless In the sheets like Mr. Vanilla Bean sometimes does. Or The Teavana Chai Tea Latte He sounds fancy, does he not? He’s different to say the least, Layered with many spices, And from cinnamon trees, He’s warm-hearted, yet feisty. Gentle, yet fatuously energetic. Soft spoken, yet bold, He doesn’t have to do much To have me sold to his trance. Now for me to decide what I want As more people file in, deliberating the same Line up as I, but they have more to Choose from. Perhaps I should loosen up some, and go With last one.

0

Oct 9, 2014

Oct 9, 2014 at 7:37 PM UTC

httphellopoetrycognizance

The (Men)u

The Vanilla Bean Frappuccino, who brings chills down my spine every time. Sweet on the inside, cold-hearted on the outside, Especially when he leaves me high and dry in the morning unexpectedly. He’ll remind me that I’m alive, And make me feel Zen for a split second, Then he splits in a second. Or The Caramel Macchiato, Tall with a sophisticated smile And unrealistically hazel eyes That read “bello” around his irises. With a shot of expression— He’s never afraid to speak how he feels. But that’s just the Italian in him. Or The Pumpkin Spice Latte, The most popular guy. He’ll warm me up when I’m cold; And make me feel like I’m his only one, He’ll tell me everything I want to hear, Then he’ll disappear without a sign— At least until the next year, Only to continue the same cycle over again. Or The Cappuccino, He’s got a strong mind like those French roast blends With a secret soft side. He speaks with fluidity and is As charismatic as the rest. He’s a morning person nonetheless, And won’t leave me loveless In the sheets like Mr. Vanilla Bean sometimes does. Or The Teavana Chai Tea Latte He sounds fancy, does he not? He’s different to say the least, Layered with many spices, And from cinnamon trees, He’s warm-hearted, yet feisty. Gentle, yet fatuously energetic. Soft spoken, yet bold, He doesn’t have to do much To have me sold to his trance. Now for me to decide what I want As more people file in, deliberating the same Line up as I, but they have more to Choose from. Perhaps I should loosen up some, and go With last one.

52

I am the bobby pins and hair clips you find in corners of your room, on your dresser, or behind your bed. I am the pictures on your wall that I made when I was once manic. I am the crumbs you find in your bed that was once my “three or four nights a week bed” which I used as a table. I am the cafe where we met, and kept meeting. I am day drives to no where. I am the Middletown train station before the movies. I am the mint lotion that keeps the bugs away. I am the notes I would leave you, that found their way on your wall. I am the bandaids. I am that strand of medium length brown hair you will find in your shower I am that guy, from trivia at that other cafe, that I wanted us to be friends with. I am the hands that would unlock your locked pointer finger. I am that key on your key chain. I am the leftover tea that is always too hot for me to drink, and is left near your bed. I am ice cream with CHERRIES, and edamame. I am the sheets on your bed. I am the downing film theater when you needed to feel better. I am New Jersey. I am the reason Netflix recommends Independent dramas with strong female lead. I am the netflix. I am the stain on your mattress. I am the drool on your pillow. I am the sugar in your cabinet above your roomates whiskey. I am all of the groceries and dates I paid for. I am all those pictures of me on your phone which made their way to your computer. I am the light wash boyfriend jeans. I am that bottle of wine that sits with all other bottles, that you see when you walk out of your room and into the kitchen, and out the door. I am the reason you once felt content. I am the reason the corkscrew sits on that stool. I am the reason why your toothbrush is wet, before you use it. I am the two red sharpie marks left on those sheets that I got us. I am mexico. The trip to mexico that could have almost seemed doable. I am the sent of oils which remind you of hippies. I am the shoes left at your door, or the teavana jug of tea in the kitchen right now. I am the fourth of July. I am that pool we never swim in. I am the projected films on the fence. I am the talker, the thought keeper, the fighter, the writer. I am Sensual Amber I am UBE I am my legs on the wall when I dry them. I am the tiny pills on your dresser. I am just someone your next girlfriend will be better than. I am the bobby pins.

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Jul 17, 2013

Jul 17, 2013 at 3:53 PM UTC

p-chartier

I Was Part of Your Life

I am the bobby pins and hair clips you find in corners of your room, on your dresser, or behind your bed. I am the pictures on your wall that I made when I was once manic. I am the crumbs you find in your bed that was once my “three or four nights a week bed” which I used as a table. I am the cafe where we met, and kept meeting. I am day drives to no where. I am the Middletown train station before the movies. I am the mint lotion that keeps the bugs away. I am the notes I would leave you, that found their way on your wall. I am the bandaids. I am that strand of medium length brown hair you will find in your shower I am that guy, from trivia at that other cafe, that I wanted us to be friends with. I am the hands that would unlock your locked pointer finger. I am that key on your key chain. I am the leftover tea that is always too hot for me to drink, and is left near your bed. I am ice cream with CHERRIES, and edamame. I am the sheets on your bed. I am the downing film theater when you needed to feel better. I am New Jersey. I am the reason Netflix recommends Independent dramas with strong female lead. I am the netflix. I am the stain on your mattress. I am the drool on your pillow. I am the sugar in your cabinet above your roomates whiskey. I am all of the groceries and dates I paid for. I am all those pictures of me on your phone which made their way to your computer. I am the light wash boyfriend jeans. I am that bottle of wine that sits with all other bottles, that you see when you walk out of your room and into the kitchen, and out the door. I am the reason you once felt content. I am the reason the corkscrew sits on that stool. I am the reason why your toothbrush is wet, before you use it. I am the two red sharpie marks left on those sheets that I got us. I am mexico. The trip to mexico that could have almost seemed doable. I am the sent of oils which remind you of hippies. I am the shoes left at your door, or the teavana jug of tea in the kitchen right now. I am the fourth of July. I am that pool we never swim in. I am the projected films on the fence. I am the talker, the thought keeper, the fighter, the writer. I am Sensual Amber I am UBE I am my legs on the wall when I dry them. I am the tiny pills on your dresser. I am just someone your next girlfriend will be better than. I am the bobby pins.

41

You're an old receipt from teavana that I keep in a Legend of Zelda Lunchbox on the top shelf in my closet, faded and barely visible, you can still see the date and the date is what stills me.

0

Mar 11, 2014

Mar 11, 2014 at 6:47 PM UTC

broooke

17, 18, 19.

You're an old receipt from teavana that I keep in a Legend of Zelda Lunchbox on the top shelf in my closet, faded and barely visible, you can still see the date and the date is what stills me.

10

before you left i dragged you the mall, we actually took your car and I told you about the skin under my thigh that felt like a mountain pasture and then we went into Teavana where the cashier manipulated me into buying forty dollars worth of tea leaves and I felt like **** afterwards because i hadn't really wanted to buy forty dollars of tea leaves. You didn't roll up your sleeves, but you stopped me in the middle of the walk way by Starbucks and the American Girl store and took the bag. You took my wallet, my receipt, my heart, and told me stay there. When you came back, you said you had returned it. I stood in awe of you, ready to cry. You had skin, lungs, eyes and a mouth, living, breathing, ready to lie at my expense. That was the first time I held your arm in months. Looking back, maybe it was only child parts of me clinging to the one person that continued to stand up for me, i don't know. i really don't know. I still have that receipt.

0

Nov 28, 2013

Nov 28, 2013 at 11:18 PM UTC

broooke

Forty Dollars Worth

before you left i dragged you the mall, we actually took your car and I told you about the skin under my thigh that felt like a mountain pasture and then we went into Teavana where the cashier manipulated me into buying forty dollars worth of tea leaves and I felt like **** afterwards because i hadn't really wanted to buy forty dollars of tea leaves. You didn't roll up your sleeves, but you stopped me in the middle of the walk way by Starbucks and the American Girl store and took the bag. You took my wallet, my receipt, my heart, and told me stay there. When you came back, you said you had returned it. I stood in awe of you, ready to cry. You had skin, lungs, eyes and a mouth, living, breathing, ready to lie at my expense. That was the first time I held your arm in months. Looking back, maybe it was only child parts of me clinging to the one person that continued to stand up for me, i don't know. i really don't know. I still have that receipt.

14