"toetips" poems
frosted
lawn
freezing
toetips
through
sheepskin
uggboots
but
still
we
prance
dance
leaving
tracks
in
the
delicate
purity
of
this
cold
unexpected
mid-winter
morning
gift
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 4:48 PM UTC
Something is broken. And something hides out, cold, in thicket brush
shadowed by the thundering asphalt, tugging at its sleeves while
marveling of how the stars create such snowy, clear cold that touches their nose, their toetips, and their still forming *******
And yet, awake. They feel something warm-- click, slip, whip and crackle at the touch-- sparkle, like a human heart, nestled between gasps and shouts of their mother
in a rage. There is a moon tonight, and her fury does nothing but deepen the chill
of the skin of their bare wrists against the weeds.
And something is broken. And something wishes to recreate its sparkling whiteness
with warm sinews, blood-- a new heart, perhaps. Tiny fingers curled inside their barely
warming winter coat, they head for the house, where the hearth is slightly less freezing.
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 2:16 PM UTC
apprently I am not alone
but sometimes
in the middle of the night
when my foot kicks of the covers
and the fan above me circles around
spraying cold air on curled toetips
and I cannot sleep
I can't find someone to talk to
sometimes
when its not quite what I said
but I can't quite say what I mean
because I'm afraid of what that means
and maybe it'll go away
anyways
I feel alone
sometimes
though they love me
and they kiss me on the lips
the cheek
closed eyelids (my favorite,
almost itself a dream)
though they tell me
and I feel it
I get in my own head about it
sometimes
it hurts me in the longrun
because sometimes it never goes away
and though they kiss me (my favorite)
it's the inside of eyelids
that keep me up
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 4:09 PM UTC