"undereye" poems - Hello Poetry

it's the caffeine making dark crescents undereye not some divine enlightenment (there might be a dash of soul-searching though) low, glazed limbs are frozen still a frosted flurry of flakes falls relieving my concentration returning me to the road to the pale glow of white snow silhouetting the bare oak grove hefty adumbrations emerging charcoal on unblemished canvas "Harden your heart, grow up" "Harden your heart, grow up" I repeat over and over click I get a different result Real insanity would be conversing to myself, not chanting: pshaw! My insides now cold as ice open windows, abrasive breeze I don't have a seat warmer don't need one when everything's the same temp I've hardened my heart, my groovy slouch recedes jaw set and stiffened Sufjan and Novo Amor siphoning my hope tears become stalactites "I have loved you for the last time" pulling me back into colorless pensiveness matching the steadfast sentinels blurring by

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Jul 22, 2018

Jul 22, 2018 at 11:00 PM UTC

lucas

Black Were the Trees, White Were the Flakes; Black Were the Thoughts, Blank Were the Results

it's the caffeine making dark crescents undereye not some divine enlightenment (there might be a dash of soul-searching though) low, glazed limbs are frozen still a frosted flurry of flakes falls relieving my concentration returning me to the road to the pale glow of white snow silhouetting the bare oak grove hefty adumbrations emerging charcoal on unblemished canvas "Harden your heart, grow up" "Harden your heart, grow up" I repeat over and over click I get a different result Real insanity would be conversing to myself, not chanting: pshaw! My insides now cold as ice open windows, abrasive breeze I don't have a seat warmer don't need one when everything's the same temp I've hardened my heart, my groovy slouch recedes jaw set and stiffened Sufjan and Novo Amor siphoning my hope tears become stalactites "I have loved you for the last time" pulling me back into colorless pensiveness matching the steadfast sentinels blurring by

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one, two, three. hours of sweater lines written on your cheek and your undereye circles tender to touch and water in both places and your shallow breath, violent saying you’re sorry, sounding like nothing. sweater lines in the mirror and no way to make him know, and what that does to you. one, two, three— what that does to you one, two three. remembering how you don’t like flowers, and how you are supposed to, and white knuckles he asks you to explain. if only one, two, three. four. unplanned, the monster in the closet that hasn’t brushed your open palm in years, and you forgot. he said don’t worry, once, it wasn’t real it won’t ruin you he said that four. backs against cold walls, this time, and long long quiet. one, two, three. his undereyes, too, this time, and your involuntary muscles, violent unmetered, sorry, always. one, two, three, and four

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Jan 29, 2013

Jan 29, 2013 at 12:23 AM UTC

cr1090

Four

one, two, three. hours of sweater lines written on your cheek and your undereye circles tender to touch and water in both places and your shallow breath, violent saying you’re sorry, sounding like nothing. sweater lines in the mirror and no way to make him know, and what that does to you. one, two, three— what that does to you one, two three. remembering how you don’t like flowers, and how you are supposed to, and white knuckles he asks you to explain. if only one, two, three. four. unplanned, the monster in the closet that hasn’t brushed your open palm in years, and you forgot. he said don’t worry, once, it wasn’t real it won’t ruin you he said that four. backs against cold walls, this time, and long long quiet. one, two, three. his undereyes, too, this time, and your involuntary muscles, violent unmetered, sorry, always. one, two, three, and four

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my dark undereye circles are hard to cover now they are from sleepless nights spent smoking in the backyard and listening to too much sad music i’m tired of writing poems for you in 2 days it will be a year since you left you didn’t write me you didn’t have to. a month ago i was afraid of monsters in the dark from the night i sat up with him and we watched horror movies i thought of you then, too not in the way he held me but in the way he left we were supposed to see each other again he stood me up typical. i shouldn’t look for parts of you in everything i do but i woke up at the crack of dawn today little sleep and weary i snuck out to dance in the rain these clothes cling to my frame i wonder if you know what i look like now i see my doctor today i haven’t seen her in years because she only took patients that were sick enough and when i gained forty pounds after the **** she told me i could be discharged my eating had never been worse or lack of it i run my fingers over my collarbones i need to make sure they didn’t leave i miss you and the way you made me feel beautiful without body checks. i want to get more tattoos cover the parts of myself i don’t like my thighs my arms my undereye circles

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May 17, 2018

May 17, 2018 at 9:36 AM UTC

alleigh-peterson

the 19th of may

my dark undereye circles are hard to cover now they are from sleepless nights spent smoking in the backyard and listening to too much sad music i’m tired of writing poems for you in 2 days it will be a year since you left you didn’t write me you didn’t have to. a month ago i was afraid of monsters in the dark from the night i sat up with him and we watched horror movies i thought of you then, too not in the way he held me but in the way he left we were supposed to see each other again he stood me up typical. i shouldn’t look for parts of you in everything i do but i woke up at the crack of dawn today little sleep and weary i snuck out to dance in the rain these clothes cling to my frame i wonder if you know what i look like now i see my doctor today i haven’t seen her in years because she only took patients that were sick enough and when i gained forty pounds after the **** she told me i could be discharged my eating had never been worse or lack of it i run my fingers over my collarbones i need to make sure they didn’t leave i miss you and the way you made me feel beautiful without body checks. i want to get more tattoos cover the parts of myself i don’t like my thighs my arms my undereye circles

37

i've got the dark side of the moon On its back, crescent-cut, undereye. A sign of my exhaustion, Which i use to fuel my rise. Everything below but bare remembrance, Like my fridge, running empty. Or so i surmise. Guess i'll fill it or guess I'll die. This approach? Unsustainable. i'm ragged, climbing through life, The slope only slows, steepening, i Think it's about time I fly.

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Sep 25, 2017

Sep 25, 2017 at 4:50 AM UTC

seriousU

Whose Wishes Come True?

i've got the dark side of the moon On its back, crescent-cut, undereye. A sign of my exhaustion, Which i use to fuel my rise. Everything below but bare remembrance, Like my fridge, running empty. Or so i surmise. Guess i'll fill it or guess I'll die. This approach? Unsustainable. i'm ragged, climbing through life, The slope only slows, steepening, i Think it's about time I fly.

12

I'm fine. I'm crying, but only when I'm alone. So in front of you, I'm ok. I'm ok. I'm losing my mind, but that's only in my head. So in front of you, I'm all right. I'm all right I'm pulling out my hair, but I wear hats. So in front of you, I'm pleased. I'm pleased. I'm not sleeping, but I conceal my undereye bags. So in front of you, I'm good. I'm good. I'm tearing my skin apart, but my shirts have long sleeves. So in front of you, I'm well. I'm well. I'm killing myself, but when I'm dead its all over. And then I'm no longer in front of you, I'm dead.

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Sep 20, 2018

Sep 20, 2018 at 2:21 PM UTC

Victoriakvist

In Front Of You

I'm fine. I'm crying, but only when I'm alone. So in front of you, I'm ok. I'm ok. I'm losing my mind, but that's only in my head. So in front of you, I'm all right. I'm all right I'm pulling out my hair, but I wear hats. So in front of you, I'm pleased. I'm pleased. I'm not sleeping, but I conceal my undereye bags. So in front of you, I'm good. I'm good. I'm tearing my skin apart, but my shirts have long sleeves. So in front of you, I'm well. I'm well. I'm killing myself, but when I'm dead its all over. And then I'm no longer in front of you, I'm dead.

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