"tentativeness" poems
Cold nights and nervous bones
Your laugh makes me smile
The parking lot is empty
We are full of tentativeness
Cute awkwardness
This feels right
Like nothing else has before
I feel happy
I blushed a lot.
You're so sweet
You called me gorgeous
We didn't even touch
But it feels like we did.
Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 12:25 AM UTC
Drunk on love
Is a phrase I have never understood
Until now
It's the way you say lollipop
It's the minute bobbing of your hair when you laugh
It's your ability to fluster me and leave me speechless when I normally pride myself in my rapport and
I wonder what you're thinking right now
Is any of it the same?
It's your curiosity and your genuine soul and spirit and your tentativeness and your fear and
It's that the whites of your eyes
Remind me of home
Sun kissed skies
And a longing to roam
The horizon
There's a familiarity and I get a pit in my stomach that tells me I miss you.
I notice the difference when I reminisce, you-
The difference is, you don't smell like cow ****
You smell like crisp morning rain
And bath salts.
I don't actually know your scent.
What I meant
Is that I'm calmed by the crashing of rain
And the other supposedly drives you insane.
You provide me with both:
An overwhelming peace
And an ever-growing crease in the folds of my mind
As I try to rewind
To the first time I met you.
Burned into my brain: the first time you set two
Boisterous, beautiful, brown gold orbs
Patiently on mine as you tried to absorb
All of the pieces of me
Contrast and contour
Not one fault ignored.
And by no fault of yours,
You sat and you listened
As sunbeams glistened
And my heart raced
And my mind doted
A smile donned your face
And my emotions exploded
Amidst this maelstrom of noise
These powerful currents
Distant echoes grew poised
And struck me recurrent
And your laughter sprang forth
From your buttercream smile.
Time slowed, and I thought: please stay for a while.
Residual raindrops grew reluctantly silent
The insecurities of my ever-racing mind resided
Dim in comparison to the fervor you'd quelled and excited
I could feel my legs keel and go weak
When you returned stolen breaths as you started to speak
And they told me to "be careful"
And "not to fall too fast"
But this vertigo feels lovely
And I'd rather it would last.
Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 12:53 AM UTC
When you are gone
I will miss you
I will miss your difficulties and the issues that surround you
Your troubled past,
will be a vacant gap,
no longer something to troubleshoot
I will miss counting wine bottles
in your car, behind doors, in corners,
under chairs,
All of this, I will miss
I will miss the size of you
Your small blond head, almost,
but never fully
leaning on my chest, I will miss,
your tentativeness
I will miss your slurred words and glazed eyes and the sight of you seeking respite, in liquids,
gold and white
Your hands shaking, and my heart breaking
Yes, all of this, all I had of you
I will miss
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 4:03 PM UTC
"No Fun — for anybody. 67. You are getting Greedy. Act your old age. Relax — This won't hurt." - hunter thompson
but it did, Hunter.
and the silence grows fuller
like a plane to Nicaragua,
or the sudden surge of quiet
after two bodies have already
fallen from the vertigo
of pleasure.
treading the barbed line of
living as the wind acrobats
and mangles itself into
a dagger - a sharpest edge
of memory's telling:
i am endlessly searching
for something i cannot name.
scouring for lost things
in the pocket of this
realm. tentativeness
a tenfold - sink or swim.
mind dwindles somewhere caught
like a flailing fly in the lair
of a relentless tarantula.
furiously this night grows
insectile in its habiliment,
buzzing and drilling against the
walls pounding on them like
a man would, angered and hostile
behind narrowing faces of wall
in steep confinement.
tiptoeing
through shards
fire
song
light
no light
silence.
this won't hurt
under secret strobe and
cigarette haze
this won't hurt
underneath the parasol of
influence as the cosmos rains
weighing down eyelids close to
pavement
this won't hurt
this won't hurt
won't hurt this,
won't this hurt
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 10:26 PM UTC
i dreamt of you last night
of your name lighting up the screen of my phone
of us chatting again, talking
as if we're friends
as if nothing happened
i would say that it was as if thing were normal
but that isn't normal for us.
or now is it?
normal for us is,
avoiding
ignoring
questioning
imploring
it's ambiguity and tentativeness
it is stubbornness
and resentment
and bottled feelings
and empty explanations
and hurt pride
normal for us is silence
and things are back to normal
Jun 16, 2019
Jun 16, 2019 at 11:46 AM UTC
A twist on the knob may
bring about another bout of setting this into
the brightest contest:
in the middle of so many arrivals
become departure
even when coming into.
Fold this abandon into prayer
and slide it underneath
a pillow – your pillow, a dagger
to wage fray.
lean toward the absence like a lover,
dream befallen like an unwanted visitor.
devise a plan as if nothing was here at play.
there is nothing here but the
tentativeness of space – it may or may not happen,
what of it, as if it is possible,
our bravest reach to things we recall
is our conscious error, pity our duty
if not our image cast mirror to broken mirror
shared is the damage blown by wind
shorn out of an eyelid’s flutter, weaving,
turned to writhe in this mortal bed
this day will evolve tomorrow
and we can say amid transition
we are coming to be, and being as we have went
how, in this frail wonder
are we but unsure.
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 8:47 AM UTC
Elephant of choice
Choose to ignore
Both avoid chore
Abstain our voice
Knowing the fault
Question a future
Emotions need of suture
Unable to halt
Nowhere to turn
Yearn a soul of you
Our love decay true
Tentativeness to learn
Lonely is the heart
Unease and undone
Solace I have none
Aspect of new start
Uncertain a fear
Confused and lost
Our life a cost
The future unclear
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 9:07 AM UTC