i have plenty of unread books
supposed have been read
at a good nook
these books I have
are stack on one shelf
cause time hasn’t given
a minute for myself
these books I have
supposed are my companions
when I’m split into halves
i love you
i'm so confused
how do you feel about me?
how can you tell me
that you've "liked" me (air quotes) since we met,
that you would be upset if i had a boyfriend,
that you imagine a future with me
how can you
touch me (almost) everywhere
& bite me
& sleep in your bed with me
but then act like none of that happened
& tell me that you're fucking another random guy
that you met on Grindr
but then two days later you're back
your face between my breasts in a public restaurant
your hands seductive
why do you tease me?
do you want me or not?
do you even know what you want?
i know you have a lot of things on your mind
i know this is confusing for you
but you have to see you're involving me in this too
you have to see this is no longer just about your feelings
because you tangled mine up in yours
but the thing is that i love you no matter what
whether you're gay or bi or anything else
whether you might be bipolar or have borderline personality disorder
whether you are my best friend or my boyfriend or (other)
but i'm scared of loving you
& i think you already know all of the things i just said
so i might never say any of this out loud
I don't know where we're going,
but I can tell you where I've been..
and I'd tell you every detail,
but you'd throw me to the wind
you think you want to know,
what made me who I am,
but you have no idea,
where these blurry eyes once ran
I'd give these words to you,
from the bottom of my heart,
but you'd be wondering where I left you
and you'd forget what made you start..
Things are not as easy,
as we all want them to be,
but life is just a challenge,
given to you and me.
If you dig too deep into it,
with anyone but yourself,
you risk loosing everything
a pattern that never fails
I've seen the way the tides roll in,
I've watched a plane take flight,
I've witnessed the birth of brand new life,
I've seen a grown man cry
I've been through towns I couldn't pronounce,
I've learned a lesson or two,
I've given up hope on a lasting love,
but I'll never give up on you
I've watched the sun rise from the East
while the moon followed closely
I've watched the planets I cannot fathom
shine brighter then the last one
I've been through the rain that I couldn't foresee
but I've bypassed a storm that sure would've killed me
and I've survived a few falls I shouldn't have had
while making a few choices that made a few people mad
I've flown over oceans, for hours on end,
I've deleted a few answers, when I should've hit send
I've answered a few questions that cost a few friends
but I've never lost respect for the powers that lend.
I'm thankful for the things
the greater being lets me see
and I live every day happy to breathe
I'll be there for you, forever and always
we can roam the states bumpy highways
open the sunroof so I can sit and stargaze
I'm sorry its not what you want it to be,
but maybe a friendship is just what you need...
i forget what i need,
replacing the bubble up of unwanted thoughts with heavy heaves and maybe some other unprecedented love
the kind of love that doesn't make you choked up, stuttering over words you can't get out and holding back laughs in the back of the room, instead i stay;
block them out
close it up
it's hard to end what could have
but it's easier that it didn't
i'm not patient therefore I cannot wait for you, and I cannot wait until you've changed your mind, felt what you've missed, lost what you almost had. could have had, didn't want, or was too ignorant to see.
if you wish to forget me
so it shall be
i will not stand in the corner, drooling for you, for negativity and the i cannot do without you mentality. i will not envy, for i will see all i can deal without.
i've lost too much to waiver over how these things could have been.
i will not miss you
for you will see what i'll grow into
what i can become without you
how comfortable life is without a filter and a hand around your throat.
you are responding slowly. i say i love you. you do not respond.
i say have a nice day you say you too.
i write you a poem of words i barely knew before google and thesauri i tell you you are beautiful. read at 7 17
i am in class biting my fingers you have not said a word i have sent you fifteen messages all left unread i am worried
you have said nothing my head is shaking my hands are spinning you usually respond so quickly
i saw that you were typing as i exited my messages. i never got a message.
i sent a simple hi and was sent an automatic response that you had been offline for too long my message would be delivered when you came back online
i sent you messages to see when you came back. you didnt come back.
its been 31 days youre still offline
i got a message today and i saw your name and my stomach flipped you said only hi and i said hello back. you did not reply.
i do not think of you, you left.
i saw you on the street you looked like a new person. i waved but you assumed i was acknowledging someone else. you walked away.
i got a message from an unsaved number that you killed yourself today and my number was in your phone and i might like to be informed. i didnt reply.
Aging arms splotched with purple and red
signs of tangling with jagged dead branches
among white pines along the back of the yard
reach for a copy of Ted Kooser's Flying at Night.
Pages flip for a stop here and there
to read Sunset, Carp and Spring Plowing
Envy swells inside him with the realization
that he will never write such fine poems
which prompt memories of childhood adventures
living rural among tiger lilies blooming in meadows,
newborn calves teetering toward first steps,
and freshly spread manure capturing the scent of fall air.
His fingers still grimy from early morning planting
place Kooser's volume carefully beside his empty coffee cup
content that he is blessed to have discovered it
that day hiding next to classic tomes by Shakespeare and Whitman.
He rises to tackle digging potholes for double begonias
to decorate his yard and and to dream of pages unread.
Is a poet still a poet
if his work should go unread?
Or is he just a dreamer
with words inside his head?
Does a poet keep on writing
though no one knows his name?
Or spill his soul 'til his fingers bleed,
searching for his fame?
Does he dream of Poe as he writes his verse
in poetic harmony?
Or Count the Ways like Browning did
in sonnet forty-three?
Does he Take the Road Not Taken
like the late great Robert Frost?
Or take the road the others take
to find out that he's lost?
A poet is a poet
if his work should go unread
His words will stand the test of time,
in something that he said
For the last few years
I've lived by the water
and when I come home
from work I grab a bottle
to pour something from
and shut my eyes
to sip it or something
like that I look like
I'm dozing off but not
really because I'm a star
you think is a moon
that is moving like
the water I live on
sitting up in my bed
ashamed of the books
left in outlines and
shadows in the shade
where I draw a breath
all thirsty for the unread.
As ever shall be, the endearment
of the unread...lain sleepless in astral catalepsy.
Fevered forever in seeing, as by the
absence of occupancy--the life of
light lives its pass through and
Absorbed wholly, spoken for by a
silence too great to repeat...
yet tacitly repeating.
Today, I was screwing around on my laptop, like always.
My homework opened in one tab,
My life opened in the other.
Looked around on Facebook,
Catching up on old news and gossip.
A message from you popped up,
And I was faced with a dilemma.
You know, I haven’t spoken to you
Since graduation. Since our break up.
You’ve been a void in my life for a year,
Our old friends have avoided me for year.
If you ask me where I’ve been, I guess I’ll say that
Well, It’s not that I disappeared,
It’s just that I’ve moved on,
While you moved in an opposite direction.
I needed space to grow,
And you needed stability…
You needed solidity, but I was a wild sea
In a storm, throwing all objects out of my way.
You were the one trying to calm the thunder
While everyone else hid from the hurting.
I took all you had in your now drained heart,
And I hope this past year allowed you time
To fill that perfect heart back to the brim.
Because since last year, I’ve had room to grow.
I’ve become more of myself than you ever saw.
The person that you tried to save,
She drowned in the storm
And was born completely anew.
And here I am, contemplating all the things
That I have to fill my life.
And how I am ready as ever,
For you and your perfection…
And an unread message.