"undereyes" poems
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
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 12:23 AM UTC
Sometimes we lose ourselves in the rush of time and push ourselves too hard.
Lose sleep, lose friends and lose our minds.
Covering up the pain just like we cover up those undereyes.
We are fragile, just like glass.
But we tend to forget that glass can crack.
Jun 20, 2017
Jun 20, 2017 at 6:56 PM UTC
It doesnt matter why i was there
What mattered was the lack of life in the plastic grass
The absense of smiles amonst my peers
The apperance of midnight blue in the rim of our undereyes
The ache in whats left in the rest of my heart
The nurses were rude
Sent us to bed without dinner , if scraps of cereal and old meat could be a substitute
We were scolded for our imperfections and nuances
So we left learning to not save anything for special occasions
Me being alive is a miracle alone
May 24, 2018
May 24, 2018 at 11:39 PM UTC
She smells like summer rain
and wet hair.
Like the forest after a storm
drowning in the sky's blessings.
She walks like chaos,
a cacophony of arms and legs
that jolt in the direction of travel.
She stands tall, with dark undereyes
and a dress that stops flowing
around her waist
but does not end
until **** near
her feet.
She stalks the night like a pedator and prey
all in one.
And she looks at me.
Sep 19, 2022
Sep 19, 2022 at 9:47 PM UTC