"unmemorable" poems
we were sisters, weren't we?
i remember when we were young -
everything was easy then, wasn't it?
before your beauty bloomed and
my plainness stayed,
before the curve of your hips and the sparks of your smile,
set my mother's heart on fire.
we were sisters, weren't we?
when we used to kneel by the hearth for fun,
digging up buried treasure,
sifting through the ashes with our clean-girl hearts,
laughing.
that was before the bitterness choked our home.
we were sisters, weren't we?
you used to crawl under the covers with me,
whisper ghost stories and laugh at me when i got scared.
i reflected your prettiness then,
it shone on me like
the sun on a mirror,
my glass face unmemorable and making yours
all the more dazzling
(not that we knew it:
we were both beautiful,
before we knew any better)
we were sisters, weren't we?
i held your hand when my mother cut you with her words,
i stood up for you when she worked you, i did.
i never once raised a word when you would come to my room,
crying and
raving about her.
i held you when your missing for your own mother rose up sharp in your heart, and i
defended you when my mother spread words like thorns in the villages.
i never once envied you your beauty.
we were sisters, weren't we?
and when that prince came for you,
laughing and
pebbling our window with stones,
i helped you shimmy out into his arms.
i would clean the mud off your shoes when you would stumble back in,
right before the sun came up,
i would put you to bed and make you tea to warm the early-morning chill out of your rose-pink cheeks,
and i waited for you that night you didn't come back.
we were sisters, weren't we?
and you left us.
Jun 9, 2012
Jun 9, 2012 at 3:17 PM UTC
O, to be clear! Rid of all torments.
To see nothing but the future in your world of content.
Blue skies in your mind
Where your thoughts are straight
And never feel envy, disappointment or hate.
But thoughts are thoughts and thoughts
are only ever clouds so
as long as you’re thinking you don’t have a clear sky.
O, to be clear? Of all regrets and shame?
Without those you could not be the same.
Regrets are the train’s rails
And shame is the gravel beneath,
unmemorable, now unnoticeable.
Pain is the storm that strengthens the land.
Shame, regret, anger – the colours of your landscape.
And laughter is the sun as it rises above it all.
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 7:58 PM UTC
the summer passed me by
as quick as the spider that runs
across my bedroom floor when i
can't sleep at night.
catch me if you can it says,
reminding me of the
inevitable.
summer is like that,
it comes and you watch your friends
leave and you hug them and
you fill in the spaces of silence
inside the margins of your notebook
knowing full well that writing the same
sentence over and over does not make
the time pass any faster. but you don't care.
then they come home and sit you down and say,
"want to see the pictures i took on my trip?"
and you always say yes
when you always mean no
and you smile and you tell them
how nice of a time it looked like they had.
and when they ask you how your summer was,
you shrug and say "good"
when really you mean
uneventful, restless, fleeting,
unmemorable.
lonely.
you want to tell them about the two weeks
you spent home alone sleeping on the couch,
watching Disney movies,
you want to tell them how paralyzed you were
by lack of affection and touch and
laughter.
you want to tell them how the heat only
amplified that gaping hole, confirming
your sinking suspicions of always feeling like
you were missing something.
you want to tell them to slow down,
to listen.
you want to tell them how scared you are,
now that summer is over.
you want them to confess to you
how terrified they are, too.
you want to reach into their eyes and find
a river of undeniable resilience
that might sustain you for the next four months,
up until you leave this city.
you want them to spend the night with you
just so you can remember what it feels like
to be held, even if it's only for one night.
summer's almost gone,
despite the remaining heat and humidity.
you challenge the night with one-sided conversations
with yourself in the dark,
even though you know
that is the last place you could ever find
some clarity.
you count the backpacks on the children
and the number of minutes it takes
for a traffic jam to subside.
summer's almost gone,
and you are running out of places
to hide.
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 12:53 AM UTC
This is for the three A.M writers,
The four A.M coffee drinkers,
because sleep isn’t useful at this point.
This is for the daughter that lost her mother
at age twelve and never stopped smiling.
This is for the boy that knows that the
closet will only be kind to him
for a little while longer
but can’t bring himself to leave quite yet,
I see you.
I see the smile fade for just a second,
the small tear run down your cheek.
I see how quickly you wipe it away,
scanning the room to make sure no one saw,
but I did.
This is for the social smokers,
and the casual drinkers and
the avid vapors that think that cotton candy
flavored juices won’t give you cancer…
I see you.
I see you post drag, look at the cigarette
like it's the first time one has ever been in your hand.
I see the moment you realize you want
your lungs to give out. I see you raise it back to your lips.
I see you sip from a coffee cup at a football game,
but oh don’t you wish it was coffee,
but instead coffee brandy burns your throat
as you try to forget all the bad things he did to you.
I see you.
I see you wince at the final sip, not only because
you took too much to swallow, but because
the pain made you realize what you have
let him turn you into.
This is for the class clowns.
The boy that tries so hard to make other
people laugh because he
can’t remember the last time
he actually smiled, and if he
can make other people happy for just a second,
one day maybe he’ll be happy too.
I see you.
I see you after landing the punchline,
analyzing the classroom,
and when the roar of laughter fades
so doe’s smile that never quite reached
your eyes.
This is for the the invisible.
The “unmemorable” face in the crowd.
The people in public with their face in a book,
I see you.
I see you watch quietly in the background.
Listening to everything around you,
never brave enough to speak up.
I see you.
This is for all of the people that at one point
in their life thought no one was watching.
That no one ever cared enough to see you.
I see you.
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 7:22 PM UTC
I find I am hollow
Empty
Serene in the silence
Alone
My feet soundless, swift
My face unmemorable
My hand shook by men of passionate deceit
And I find myself filled with their purpose
Purpose of others drives me
Craving no prize, praising no God
Only me
Only violence
Soul pushed to the cages in the back of me
My body is honed
My weapon part of me
I fly but no wind follows
I break the unmendable
Harbinger of silence
Deliverer of death
Revealer of mortality
Ender
Money and treasure for blood and breath
Unrelenting, unavoidable
Hands choking pulse from veins
Slowing
Necks crack as they swing out of place
Breaking
Gun hot from parting lead bullet
Body heavy as it drops
Death will come swiftly to any, to all
Until I am emptied once more
Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 9:19 AM UTC
Skin’s crawling, the edge of square roofs glowing
with a cold sweat,
eyes are sharper at the crack of a brown dawn.
Dogs own dominion
in fish markets that smell of yesterday.
Their lives and mine are perfect
by the all too human reckoning
of a life’s worth calculated by wants supplied.
A lone cyclist pedals a basket of dew-drenched vegetables
to his usual earthen haunt and tarpaulin,
swerving around the territorial pack
as they change course, trot over and throng me
muddy paws on the best clothes I own,
breath smoking in the dry chill,
I buy myself a pack as the cigarette vendor
unpacks his wares out of damp sacks,
it is a miracle that my breath does not catch fire
or that my eyes have not turned into cotton-balls.
Yet another stranger has brought me home
to the sputter of a third-world petrol engine.
He gets his fare, it’s only fair,
and I’m just glad that I will sleep,
I have nowhere to be in the morning,
I have adventured and now
I am tired and there is a yawning hole
that I slip into without knowing.
It is warm at last,
I cradle my head with the soft side of one hand,
as if it were mother’s,
and this is well, for as things stand,
my dreams welcome me in
and their characters are so familiar,
that I may have just woken up
from a foggy, unmemorable dream
into childhood sweet and clear.
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 3:48 AM UTC
My fathers health will be the death of me
Because the day he goes I'll lose a part of me
No more valuable lessons to be taught
No more gritting my teeth and cursing his name for unmemorable reasons to why we fought
When he dies I will truly be alone but he will live on for I am his clone
Simple living is a ***** but we do it well
Father and son team
Bunk mates
Sharing the same cells
You lived fast and hard
If I live faster and harder than you
Maybe my time will run out the same as you
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 1:41 PM UTC
Reading documents of the story when the sun that burned so bright,
It burned out.
Reading, heeding, the warning signs of an event unmemorable,
Disgusted.
Mistakes will not be repeated,
New actions are in order.
-July 13th 2013
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 5:12 AM UTC
I wish I could remember the way your mouth tastes
or how your touch felt on my scorching skin.
But for the life of me,
I have forgotten.
Just how for the life of you,
you have forgotten me.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 12:45 PM UTC
Unrecognised obliterated
Beauty
Left behind unmemorable
Traceable across
A million miles of soulless
Rubber
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 5:13 AM UTC
The man without someone to talk to is, without a doubt, left out
You want to shout and your lips pout because you're the odd man out!
You want to challenge everyone to a bout; to take their spot -
to be part of the crowd but you're still cut!
So, I'll wait right here until the boredom kills and you feel the urge to talk to me
Awkward silence fills the air, liked stacked up bills you still haven't paid yet!
You know it's there but you don't care and wouldn't even dare to try and talk to me
And I'm afraid you only would on a bet.
Let your paper missiles fly across the air as you try to hit my crying eyes -
That are in disguise as white tinted windows staring emotionlessly at the sky
Let my vulnerable naïveté taste the touch of cold steel.
As long as you give me attention it's okay, it would heal.
You don't know the loneliness that being unmemorable brings!
The way it stings as they fling those sharp notes that sing in your ear 'you are not worth remembering'
You are not someone worth fighting for, worth settling a score, worth dying for
So they slam the door to your face and leave you alone in the cold lonely fjord.
The deep push of angry slurs to your head blurs your idea of humanity
And it stirs the notions of being different and loneliness hard, hard that they turn into synonyms
Which makes you cling to the idea that your very being is frowned upon by everyone
Even your own family.
The constant blame and shame that they force you to claim under your name
Puts a stain in your heart which gives you fame in the game that is life!
It is a painful sport, that game of life. Yet you strive
—strive to separate yourself from the infamy that was given to you since the beginning of your time.
You often find yourself paying fine for a crime that you did not commit
There is a raging fire within your cold beating heart and you feel it.
Every morning you tell yourself you are not a monster but a knight in worn down armor from battles past
And every night you tell yourself that the last insult you heard today will be the last.
Yes, I keep telling myself that.
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 12:29 PM UTC
Save a piece of me.
A laugh, a smile, a subtle flicker of my eyes when the lights turn on.
You have to remember something, so make it small. Don't keep the battles,
the strife, the words I said and never meant, the words you never thought you knew.
If you save anything, let it be a moment. A second.
So brief, so inconsolably unmemorable:
A candle's flame. A flower's lonely petal.
A breeze, pushing us both in opposite directions.
Nov 23, 2012
Nov 23, 2012 at 11:50 PM UTC
You sit there alone in the dark,
The you before him,
The you you are now,
The contrast is visibly stark.
You sit criss cross on your bed,
Lashes damp, eyes burning, and red,
It’s just after midnight,
You feel pathetic,
You replay it all in your head.
You start with the day that you met,
It was a Tuesday,
An ordinary day,
The kind you’d forget.
But then it all changed,
Smiles, handshakes,
And names were exchanged.
On the surface,
It was incredibly customary,
It was simple, unmemorable,
Painfully ordinary.
What made this different,
You weren’t sure,
Your feelings illogical,
So child-like, so juvenile,
So immature.
“You’re better than this.”
In the moment you thought.
In fact, you kept saying this,
As the days, weeks, and months went on.
“Get it together!”
You’d scream in the mirror.
Time had done nothing,
Your thoughts were no clearer.
You pace back and forth,
All sensibility in danger,
How could so much be felt,
So deeply, for a virtual stranger?
You felt ridiculous and crazy,
Your sanity lacking,
This next part gets hazy
All you remember are your fears, your panicking .
Was it coincidence, fate, or divine intervention?
Whatever it was,
Your next meeting came with no planning, no intention.
This one was longer,
There was more than a greeting.
You were a mess, a goner,
You could hear your heart beating.
But it was okay,
You kept your composure,
Better than you thought you would,
No liquid aid, totally sober.
This meeting made a friend out of the “virtual stranger,”
It was progress, a milestone,
But a detrimental, emotional game changer.
You hated yourself, you wanted more,
Your feelings grew stronger,
Angry, always present,
They refused to be ignored.
You drove yourself nuts,
You overthought,
But there was no one to blame,
No one at fault.
You were painfully afraid of rejection,
So you never made your move.
Every touch you thought was just platonic affection.
You fought your emotion like you had something to prove.
You had plenty of chances to get what you wanted,
But what you didn’t account for?
You weren’t the only one charmed,
You weren’t the only one haunted.
Now it’s too late,
To another, your charmer has made a promise
You were too busy being a little *****
And just couldn’t bear to be honest.
So congrats, Heartbreaker!
You’ve earned the title!
Go on, do what you do best,
Fake a smile!
Go ahead, take a seat upon your throne!
It really is a pity though.
The only heart that appears to be broken is your own.
Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 10:35 PM UTC
Brief wind stillness means
Nothing to silence
That myth forgotten
Like our stillness in
The once sacred ground
Changed now dug up burnt
Scattered broken glass
Thrown into noisy
Everyday vast air
Unmemorable
Or bear existing
Indefinitely
Held on a mantel
Strange home lingerer
Trapped in Time's domain
Last standing reproach
Nudging its shoulder
Repeating the phrase
You're here forever
Part of furniture
Just gravestone décor
Dusts sent to remind
That you aren't leaving
Coats triumph of life in
Insignificance
Insignificant
Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 9:05 AM UTC