"xvii" poems
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
827.3k
I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving
but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.
49k
Thinking, tangling shadows in the deep solitude.
You are far away too, oh farther than anyone.
Thinking, freeing birds, dissolving images,
burying lamps.
Belfry of fogs, how far away, up there!
Stifling laments, milling shadowy hopes,
taciturn miller,
night falls on you face downward, far from the city.
Your presence is foreign, as strange to me as a thing.
I think, I explore great tracts of my life before you.
My life before anyone, my harsh life.
The shout facing the sea, among the rocks,
running free, mad, in the sea-spray.
The sad rage, the shout, the solitude of the sea.
Headlong, violent, stretched towards the sky.
You, woman, what were you there, what ray, what vane
of that immense fan? You were as far as you are now.
Fire in the forest! Burn in blue crosses.
Burn, burn, flame up, sparkle in trees of light.
It collapses, crackling. Fire. Fire.
And my soul dances, seared with curls of fire.
Who calls? What silence peopled with echoes?
Hour of nostalgia, hour of happiness, hour of solitude.
Hour that is mine from among them all!
Megaphone in which the wind passes singing.
Such a passion of weeping tied to my body.
Shaking of all the roots,
attack of all the waves!
My soul wandered, happy, sad, unending.
Thinking, burying lamps in the deep solitude.
Who are you, who are you?
14.4k
i.
Imagine, mine love
I'm on one knee;
ii.
Imagine mine love
No distance in-between;
iii.
Imagine mine love,
Thine glimmering
Wedding ring:
iv.
Imagine mine love
Preordainment's best
To bring;
v.
Imagine mine love
Angel's that wilt
Sing;
vi.
Imagine mine love
Just us two;
vii.
Imagine mine love
Making love upon new moon's;
viii.
Imagine mine love
Enthroned as mine muse;
ix.
Imagine mine love
Osculating that wilt soothe;
x.
Imagine mine love
Mine finger's stroke thy strand's;
xi.
Imagine mine love
On the sea of love we dance;
xii.
Imagine mine love
No world, nor worldly plan's;
xiii.
Imagine mine love
Toe's locked, buried neath' the sand;
xiv.
Imagine mine love
Hand held to hand in hand;
xv.
Imagine mine love
Thy head upon
Mine chest;
xvi.
Imagine mine love
The thought of nothingness;
xvii.
Imagine mine love
Mind free from pain and stress.
xviii.
Imagine mine love
Imagine mine love
This;
©Brandon Nagley
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 9:28 PM UTC
I
That fawn-skin-dappled hair of hers,
And the blue eye
Dear and dewy,
And that infantine fresh air of hers!
II
To think men cannot take you, Sweet,
And enfold you,
Ay, and hold you,
And so keep you what they make you, Sweet!
III
You like us for a glance, you know—
For a word’s sake,
Or a sword’s sake,
All’s the same, whate’er the chance, you know.
IV
And in turn we make you ours, we say—
You and youth too,
Eyes and mouth too,
All the face composed of flowers, we say.
V
All’s our own, to make the most of, Sweet—
Sing and say for,
Watch and pray for,
Keep a secret or go boast of, Sweet.
VI
But for loving, why, you would not, Sweet,
Though we prayed you,
Paid you, brayed you
In a mortar—for you could not, Sweet.
VII
So, we leave the sweet face fondly there—
Be its beauty
Its sole duty!
Let all hope of grace beyond, lie there!
VIII
And while the face lies quiet there,
Who shall wonder
That I ponder
A conclusion? I will try it there.
IX
As,—why must one, for the love forgone,
Scout mere liking?
Thunder-striking
Earth,—the heaven, we looked above for, gone!
X
Why with beauty, needs there money be—
Love with liking?
Crush the fly-king
In his gauze, because no honey bee?
XI
May not liking be so simple-sweet,
If love grew there
’Twould undo there
All that breaks the cheek to dimples sweet?
XII
Is the creature too imperfect, say?
Would you mend it
And so end it?
Since not all addition perfects aye!
XIII
Or is it of its kind, perhaps,
Just perfection—
Whence, rejection
Of a grace not to its mind, perhaps?
XIV
Shall we burn up, tread that face at once
Into tinder
And so hinder
Sparks from kindling all the place at once?
XV
Or else kiss away one’s soul on her?
Your love-fancies!—
A sick man sees
Truer, when his hot eyes roll on her!
XVI
Thus the craftsman thinks to grace the rose,—
Plucks a mould-flower
For his gold flower,
Uses fine things that efface the rose.
XVII
Rosy rubies make its cup more rose,
Precious metals
Ape the petals,—
Last, some old king locks it up, morose!
XVIII
Then, how grace a rose? I know a way!
Leave it rather.
Must you gather?
Smell, kiss, wear it—at last, throw away!
2.8k
Since she whom I loved hath paid her last debt
To Nature, and to hers, and my good is dead,
And her soul early into heaven ravished,
Wholly on heavenly things my mind is set.
here the admiring her my mind did whet
To seek thee, God; so streams do show the head;
But though I have found thee, and thou my thirst hast fed,
a holy thristy dropsy melts me yet.
But why should I beg more love, whenas thou
Dost woo my soul, for hers offering all thine:
And dost not only fear lest I allow
My love to saints and angels, things divine,
but in they tender jealousy dost doubt
lest the world, flesh, yea, devil put thee out.
2.5k
I.
My first in first grade
I carved your name in my desk
I hope it's still there.
II.
Made class valentines
Required for everyone
But mine was special.
III.
You begged the teacher
To sit by me on the bus
With a great big smile.
IV.
The first who wanted
To take me out for dinner
But it was a joke.
V.
Dedicated song
I can no longer hear it
Without thought of you.
VI.
You never said it
But your eyes always told me
You had wanted more.
VII.
You dated my friend
And I never told you how
Much I adored you.
VIII.
Playful like a child
But mature like an adult
So interesting.
IX.
You asked me to prom
Yellow flowers for friendship
That's all I wanted.
X.
You said you loved me
I loved you like a brother
It would never work.
XI.
You swore up and down
You had changed for the better
You didn't, first kiss.
XII.
Late walks on campus
Never saw me with makeup
We were so natural.
XIII.
Eyes found each other
"I don't forget pretty girls"
you whispered to me.
XIV.
I fell quickly, hard
But you still loved someone else
A girl with my name.
XV.
A friend of a friend
Texting non-stop everyday
Going nowhere fast.
XVI.
Liked me from the start
Bruised and broken, I do care
But not in that way.
XVII.
The piano man
It was all right but timing
One that got away.
XVIII.
We tried to fight time
Thinking that you were ready
Left us with heartache.
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 4:14 PM UTC
XVII. TO THE DIOSCURI (5 lines)
(ll. 1-4) Sing, clear-voiced Muse, of Castor and Polydeuces, the
Tyndaridae, who sprang from Olympian Zeus. Beneath the heights
fo Taygetus stately Leda bare them, when the dark-clouded Son of
Cronos had privily bent her to his will.
(l. 5) Hail, children of Tyndareus, riders upon swift horses!
2.1k
Swiftly I feel you,
That breeze from your lips
As your hand slowly caresses
My side and my hips.
The thought that you’re here
Doesn’t quite warm the soul:
You mean nothing to me
This belief’s bad to behold
Societies ideal
Where love can flourish
Is not quite one
That I agree with, nor cherish
You mean to me
No more than friend or foe
Good times shall be had,
But nothing much more, this I know
Really, I’m sad
That this is all we can be
But trust me, it’s the best
When you’re dealing with a person like me:
And now my rhymes broke,
This poem, gone asunder
For my thoughts and feelings have encroached from yonder:
**** you society, these modern ideals ****
Feb 16, 2010
Feb 16, 2010 at 9:45 AM UTC
True love cannot be tampered upon
Or enclosed in glass and released at will,
It is not an insignificant slave
At the beck and call of its master,
For love has no master and its power so great
That once touched by love's endearing caress,
One must blindly obey.
True love does not follow reason
For reason could not understand a lover's heart,
It is not a pupil that can be taught
Nor a henchman that can be ordered around,
For love is free and unbinding
And all feeble attempts to restrain it shall be in vain.
True love cannot be grown from the seed of lust
Or plucked from jealousy's petals,
For once the desire has waned
The fruits shall wither and rot.
It needn't ask permission to reside in one's heart
For like a thief in the night
Love can come and go as it pleases.
Blessed are lovers' eyes
For they can see true beauty,
For beauty can only be seen
Through true love's eyes.
Sep 2, 2010
Sep 2, 2010 at 1:56 AM UTC
here i am again
remember me, my friend
or i changed so much?
is my hand you touch
so unfamiliar?
and a little wrong
the feeling you possess
but it is so strong
no need to confess...
that’s the truth
everyone knows
nothing
there is
that can stop us
from making mistakes
eating bugs and snakes
and then regretting
forgetting
who we are
have we gone too far?
XVII VII MMIII
Sep 24, 2012
Sep 24, 2012 at 4:07 AM UTC
XVII
Lawrence of vertuous Father vertuous Son,
Now that the Fields are dank, and ways are mire,
Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire
Help wast a sullen day; what may be Won
From the hard Season gaining: time will run
On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire
The frozen earth; and cloth in fresh attire
The Lillie and Rose, that neither sow’d nor spun.
What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice,
Of Attick tast, with Wine, whence we may rise
To hear the Lute well toucht, or artfull voice
Warble immortal Notes and Tuskan Ayre?
He who of those delights can judge, and spare
To interpose them oft, is not unwise.
1.4k
No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio
o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:
te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.
Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva
dentro de sí, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,
y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo
el apretado aroma que ascendió de la tierra.
Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera,
sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño.
Apr 3, 2013
Apr 3, 2013 at 9:55 PM UTC
XVII
My poet, thou canst touch on all the notes
God set between his After and Before,
And strike up and strike off the general roar
Of the rushing worlds a melody that floats
In a serene air purely. Antidotes
Of medicated music, answering for
Mankind’s forlornest uses, thou canst pour
From thence into their ears. God’s will devotes
Thine to such ends, and mine to wait on thine.
How, Dearest, wilt thou have me for most use?
A hope, to sing by gladly? or a fine
Sad memory, with thy songs to interfuse?
A shade, in which to sing—of palm or pine?
A grave, on which to rest from singing? Choose.
1.3k
*No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio
o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:
te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.
Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva
dentro de sí, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,
y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo
el apretado aroma que ascendió de la tierra.
Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera,
sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño.*
― Pablo Neruda
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 9:32 PM UTC
i. take a lesson from the way watercolor paint bleeds through notebook paper
ii. if i lose my mind and we lose our clothes i promise to never lose our hands and i hope you never hate me when the sun is up
iii. you made your bed now lay in mine
iv. my death wish is you telling me that you're sorry over and over again
v. all of these streetlights won't stop staring at me
vi. your eyelids, someone wants to kiss those and no it's not me okay it is
vii. what do you mean you don't keep all of my exhales in a glass jar
viii. i loved a thing once and then i died
ix. **** the world and then don't text it back the morning after
x. **** your love is my benzodiazepine
xi. are we making love or sulfuric acid
xii. how it is vs. how i want it to be vs. how it should actually be
xiii. oh, you didn't hear? your raspy screams and hollowed eyes aren't enough anymore
xiv. and now every car crash sounds like the last time you ever said my name
xv. pretty sure i have john f. kennedy's brain
xvi. you whispered "i love you" and it sounds more like an apology than anything
xvii. i have no poetry left inside of me, just a lot of white paint
xviii. accidentally bashed my head into a wall on purpose today and yes, i still have a mind and yes, you're still on it
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 7:30 PM UTC
I
Again the larkspur,
Heavenly blue in my garden.
They, at least, unchanged.
II
How have I hurt you?
You look at me with pale eyes,
But these are my tears.
III
Morning and evening--
Yet for us once long ago
Was no division.
IV
I hear many words.
Set an hour when I may come
Or remain silent.
V
In the ghostly dawn
I write new words for your ears--
Even now you sleep.
VI
This then is morning.
Have you no comfort for me
Cold-colored flowers?
VII
My eyes are weary
Following you everywhere.
Short, oh short, the days!
VIII
When the flower falls
The leaf is no more cherished.
Every day I fear.
IX
Even when you smile
Sorrow is behind your eyes.
Pity me, therefore.
X
Laugh--it is nothing.
To others you may seem gay,
I watch with grieved eyes.
XI
Take it, this white rose.
Stems of roses do not bleed;
Your fingers are safe.
XII
As a river-wind
Hurling clouds at a bright moon,
So am I to you.
XIII
Watching the iris,
The faint and fragile petals--
How am I worthy?
XIV
Down a red river
I drift in a broken skiff.
Are you then so brave?
XV
Night lies beside me
Chaste and cold as a sharp sword.
It and I alone.
XVI
Last night it rained.
Now, in the desolate dawn,
Crying of blue jays.
XVII
Foolish so to grieve,
Autumn has its colored leaves--
But before they turn?
XVIII
Afterwards I think:
Poppies bloom when it thunders.
Is this not enough?
XIX
Love is a game--yes?
I think it is a drowning:
Black willows and stars.
**
When the aster fades
The creeper flaunts in crimson.
Always another!
XXI
Turning from the page,
Blind with a night of labor,
I hear morning crows.
XXII
A cloud of lilies,
Or else you walk before me.
Who could see clearly?
XXIII
Sweet smell of wet flowers
Over an evening garden.
Your portrait, perhaps?
XXIV
Staying in my room,
I thought of the new Spring leaves.
That day was happy.
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 4:20 AM UTC
They say, you never really know what
someone else is going through,
and what we going through is real,
its the same for struggles too.
I know life is full of issues,
challenges, and obstacles,
but tell me, when you face to face with it,
what do you plan to do?
Are you gonna freeze up, or
do you plan to make a move?
If life is short, and time is money,
each second is valuable.
No time to waste, everyday,
choices I make are unthinkable.
They say tomorrow isn't promised, so
I'm blessed to have seen twenty-two.
My life is full of the ups and downs,
from a broken home,
I saw my mom abused
with bruises all around.
Her mental health dropped so low,
I cried out to God like "why" or "how"
Drugs did some damage to her brain.
It hurts to just look at her now
****
That stuff showed me how not to be as a man.
I learned how not to treat a woman
or hurt her with my hands.
The look of fear in my sisters eyes
as they screamed and cried -
Our brains are semi-scarred,
It forever left us traumatized...
But I look at this man who caused us
so much pain and harm.
When he was 7, his mom was
stabbed to death; he held her in his arms.
His father wasn't around.
Jail became his childhood home.
I don't justify his actions, but
things happen that we'll never know...
They say, you never really know what
someone else is going through,
and what we going through is real,
its the same for struggles too.
I know life is full of issues,
challenges, and obstacles,
but tell me, when you face to face with it,
what do you plan to do?
[What's Your Move?]
XVII. Presently Pushing through the Pain
Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 10:28 PM UTC
EᔕᔕᕼI
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
"Oh yes! They're of the finest quality."
"Well, I would love to get that one!"
She points to a small A5 notebook
with watercolour swirls.
"Good taste!" Bree claps as Michael
pulls a stool, stands on it and pulls
the book from the bookshelf, handing
to Lyn who stares at it. She strokes
the book and opens it to stroke to
fine paper.
"Beautiful!"
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
"That ring," Michael stares at it and
Lyn tenses, as did Ainhara and Esshi.
'How we forget about the ring!'
Esshi mentally facepalms. It is of
white-gold, the white lily of Aurelinaea
with the monogram of the Royal family.
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
Lyn was granted it when she was
coronated, and always left it on, so
much so that it was like second
nature.
"Q-Quee-"
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 3:42 PM UTC
I do not love you as if you were salt rose, topaz,
Or arrow of carnations disseminating fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
In secret, between shadow and soul.
I love you like the plant that does not bloom
But bears hidden within itself those flowers’ light,
And thanks to your love there dwells darkly in my body
The compressed scent arisen from the earth.
I love you, knowing neither how, nor when, nor whence;
I love you directly, without problems or pride:
Thus I love you, for I know no other way,
Unless it be such that there’s no I nor You,
So close that your hand on my chest is my own,
So close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 11:37 AM UTC
The reason I haven't written a lot about Collin lately,
Is not because I have been having trouble connecting with him.
Or seeing him.
You see, I've been very self centered, and very alienated.
I think I have been trough a few tragedies this year,
And due to my inability to processes events that might hurt me,
And my ability to bury emotionally challenging memories,
I have internally wallowed for about the past 11 months.
The last month, in particular,
Has been quite bad.
Collin is my ghost baby,
And I love him with all my heart,
I still feed him,
And read to him,
And let him play with candles,
And tuck him into bed with me.
I am a **** good mother to that little ghost boy,
Especially considering I'm not a ghost myself.
But it's just been me and him.
No one else.
And we had our Christmas late at night,
And he is still learning to read,
And I still give him lots of love and kisses.
I just haven't felt the need to share any of it. Any of us.
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 1:23 AM UTC
I
Left to myself I finally look up to the mirror. Tear runs through cheek.
II
Crying back to me my reflection listens as noone has before.
III
"Look deeper" she cries. Darkness dwells where nothing dwells.
IV
Past my glasses, past the glass of the mirror, past my glasses. My eyes' look at my eyes is the only thing I have left.
V
My body's body demands attention. Silent scream in the twilight of spring.
VI
A second tear runs across my ****** hair, and it knows itself a stranger.
VII
Stepping down my eyes I see my body. My body that is not my body. My body and nothing more.
VIII
My paper gets wet as a man's hand grips my pen and writes. A stranger's hand.
IX
Chest up and down, the man's body refuses my call for change.
X
And my body that is not my body moves along with my body's mirror.
XI
My manly jaw opens the silence up, and my mirror cries out. I dive in to help.
XII
I continue to step down into the night. There's nothing to look up to where I came from.
XIII
And the echoes of the well hear out my name, my real name. There is wind at the bottom of my heart.
XIV
As I dug deeper into my reflection's eyes, I reach a wooden floor. Nothing but stone saw me prior.
XV
When I look in the mirror, I am there.
XVI
A lonely little girl shivers back to me. I am alone yet I am the one that shivers.
XVII
When I step onto the wood it cracks. The girl looks at me and moves away from the light of my eyes.
XVIII
I follow. My soul cries. It is the girl that cries. It is I who cries. No surprise, I was the girl all along.
XIX
I caress the girl and take her upwards through my mirror's skin. Here she will suffer.
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 3:09 PM UTC
The days hold America’s rare air
as the election cycle once again ramps up
enough wealth to end poverty
spent daily on advertisements
aimed at convincing the masses
that they can end poverty simply by
being elected –
campaign managers bash statisticians
for expressing pole numbers
not conducive to their bottom line
relying instead on sound bites
and FOX news so-called reporting –
Hundreds of households held for ransom
with “voting” as the only way to avoid
repercussions and retribution
from self-righteous Republicans
wringing their hands, awaiting a win –
mandated munchkins munch on museum merchandise
manufacturing baseless accusations
manipulating the mainstream
always, for more –
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 1:01 PM UTC
i. you never ceased to begin and end your day by saying “i love you.” it’s the little things matter. it’s the little things that make my day complete.
ii. i know nothing with certainty about most things, but with you i am more than certain. with you, i’m entirely sure. i hope you are too.
iii. let me be your cigarette so i could touch your lips.
iv. i have tired eyes and a tired mind from running away from my demons all day. you know exactly how to calm me down. perhaps you and only you can help me feel at ease. thank you for slaying my demons for me.
v. i feel the sting of the sun. the moon has set. i sacrificed sleep just so i can spend more time with you. i want more hours with you.
vi. i’m fighting off sleep yet again just so i can hear your voice on the phone. sing for me, my love.
vii. i have never felt safe anywhere in this world, until i felt your embrace. your arms feel like home.
viii. you made me listen to a new song today. it’s beautiful. you’re beautiful.
ix. as the band sang on stage, you held my hand. you looked at me while you sang the sweetest line from the song. in that moment, i felt like i’m the luckiest girl in the crowd.
x. for the longest time, i’ve been afraid of heights. “you can do it! close your eyes and jump,” you told me. my hands were trembling. my legs were shaking. i was barely breathing. i took a leap of faith and jumped, knowing that you were there at the bottom waiting there for me. not even my deepest and darkest fear can stop me. you make me fearless.
xi. i only have the silver moonlight in me but you wouldn’t even dare trade the brightest star, the glow of the sun, with the light gleam that i have. you make me feel like i can outshine anyone. “lumiere, darling, you’re beautiful” you said.
xii. i was cold and you gave me your jacket. i saw you shiver while you handed it to me. i knew in that moment that you would sacrifice everything for me. i love you.
xiii. how i wish you would defend me when someone talks **** about me. i feel betrayed. you know me better than they do. don’t do it again, i beg you.
xiv. i’d open the door for you again and again. that’s what scares me.
xv. when we spent time apart, i asked myself, how can emptiness feel so heavy?
xvi. we were talking about our future, and i’ve never wanted to fight for something so much in my life.
xvii. someone stole my color and threw it to the wind. i don’t know if i will still find it, but you still looked at me like i’m the brightest rainbow.
xviii. you said you are afraid to lose me. i am hoping that you wouldn’t have the strength to face your fear and leave. not now, not ever.
Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 8:55 AM UTC
xvii.
my dear neurosurgeon
failed to find my eyes,
he only looked
at my mouth, my
left jaw,
whine a little,
and gave me analgesic - i f
orgot what's the na
me - that replaced my f
ace with the mo
on. it's moon face. still
present until this very moment
just because my body wants to
remember. i
maintain my diet like there's
no tomorrow but actually there is &
boy did it
grace my stomach with a
crying gift, an angel's tears,
an angel lives near the volcano
everything turns sour.
i wasn't hurting at that time.
now i am. turning not only
my face to the moon, my whole body
is the moon, even my
fingers are the moon
but they are the crater part so
when i touch a boy he
disappears - when i
touch a girl i disappear.
i've never wanted to be a boy,
only some nights
i am so fragile i become masculine.
it's not that i've never felt
feminine, i do, every time
i am catcalled i do, every
time my father kisses me like a jewel
i do, every time my brother
treats me like a marionette
i do, every time i'm seen as angry i swear i do.
my mother is angry all the time but
that doesn't do anything about
her womanhood - her husband
still sees her as a good, and yes, the eyes
of a man
are like the sun, nothing at all
like mine.
my eyes are the only part of me
that is not the moon, that is pluto.
i've been to so many doctors
i am very sure it's not
the minds nor the medicines.
it's funny
that
my dear neurosurgeon
didn't even graze my skin -
the only time a knife
tore my epidermis open
it was a slim box cutter.
i've been to so many doctors,
i am very sure.
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 6:09 AM UTC