Free-verse poem: Simon & Garfunkel, truly terrifying (New York)

Free-verse poem: Simon & Garfunkel, truly terrifying (New York)

My baby didn’t even have time to pack his suitcase
Left his things sprawled all over the floor
He told me he wanted to go to the city
Find the things he didn’t know he was looking for
He wanted more, he wanted more
He wanted more
Jars of honey, sweet fiber network
He wanted more
And I knew, across moments in space and time
That I had done my good deeds
And I could get my coat off the rack
He’s looking for more
In black tar and spiderwebs
He’ll find a new job in New York
A city that has too many important people in it for anyone to ask about

Gentle as the sea
Unbecoming as you dissolved directly into me

I cast the glow that tried to diminish my solitude
Playing Simon & Garfunkel deep into the night
To surround me in playful melody, and memories of nights in hotels
Where I didn’t know anybody
& nobody knew of me
& the thick, ivory, vintage & carefully sewn cloth that lay on the table where I had a drink (a mix of elderberry for immunity, and something with zinc)
I squeezed a lemon into my eye
(Just to try)
(Just to try it once)
I became like the night

Smooth in rapture
Rough like the ocean waves
Not asking anyone to hold me, because I wasn’t in the best company
Never understood why people use other people when they feel lonely
I find no solace in that regard
That kind of domination, to utilize temptation
What good would it do for me- my little, fawn frame?
My agony and stillness, harshly disillusioned
A maiden’s last words
A goodbye in a picture frame
Held up by safety pins for decoration of the living room, my sweet residence
Very far from New York

They read my poems and think they’re separate, short ones instead of long form stories
But at least they’re reading
It’s good for the brain
It’s almost a necessity to understand someone else’s pain
In my bedroom, I have roses on the left side of the bed
Audrey Hepburn on the wall
Reading a book, casually, a photograph taken & never explained
Who will ever take photographs of me?
Will anybody capture me in my own reserved solitude?
Press a camera shutter when my face looks nice from the angle the lens hits me from,
In the right light?
With a nice mannerism?
How cruel it is to live years without memories
Nothing to think about with morning coffee
Nobody to dream of when I’m feeling despondent

It’s not that I try not to, but I can’t stop writing
It’s like the medication hasn’t yet absorbed
You tell people you’re a writer and they nod their head
In agreement, almost
I think it’s an act of disregard
Find me a publisher!
Buy my book, whenever it comes out!
Support my dreams!
No, no
Nods his head
It’s an act of disregard
A repetition in disguised portrayal of an affirmation
Fleeting hopelessness mixing in jars of honey that fade to silk and an ambience destroyed by lightning in the dark
Making way for the gloomy inhabitants of New York’s city streets
As he neglects to pack his bags

He retracts
Shoulders back
Panic attack
Upright and tall, a self-preserved, startling enchantment
Eyes so sharp and clear but in my nonchalant mind I’ll still remember them as filled with fog
Some people- you can ask them a million different questions, yet fail to receive a hospitable response
A succession of worries
“What if the plane catches on fire, what will you do then?”
“Will you call me when you land? Should I stay awake?”
Fog, nothing but fog
Dove tails & tales of romance, swept like ashes falling from a neighbor’s cigar
An afternoon sky of abysmal disobedience

When we were young
We were gentle like the sea
And I was becoming something great, something to be remembered
But his benzodiazepines have no regard for memory preservation
So with every step he takes, every fragment of clothing he doesn’t arrange
He dissolves directly into me

I hear ‘The Only Living Boy in New York’ repeating softly in my mind
Holding on to the melody in a way that
Truly terrifies me
As I dissolve

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Love poem: God’s favourite flower girl

Love poem: God’s favourite flower girl

I want to
Lay beside
The edge of your bedside
Realizing I can’t say the words I wish would fill my mind
Out of the fabric from my lost and heavy fingertips
I have
This weight
Encapsulating me in tragic divinity
When you don’t
Me in the eyes
I feel something akin to death to fate’s memory
Are you fond of me?
Tell me,
Are you fond of me?
Please tell me

You smoke
A cigarette I gave to you
Before the rain starts to fall
I look up
At your broad shoulders
Cream, silk face
Your grandfather sweater and the way I
Don’t think you’ve quite forgiven me yet
I’ll drive home
Gripping the wheel
Trying not to
Trying not to
Trying not to cry
Envisioning me by your bedside
Soft and golden, starry and hazy
Would you let me trail
My fingers
Along your head
In the
Right places
To make you feel

The white flowers at the edge of
My bedside
I bought them for myself
They weren’t given to me
But I wanted
To find
On your desk
When I came by
I know expectations are futile
I know they will be the death of me
I think I’ve already lived this lifetime

I drive
Deep into the night
Gripping the steering wheel
My vision blurring
Me chasing
Created memories after each other as they create marked trails in my mind
I can’t see
What colour the light is, or whether it’s telling me to go
And I don’t mind
Because nobody would care
Or know
What flowers
Are appropriate
To bring

For a flower girl
A flower girl
I’m a flower girl
Yes, I’m a flower girl
And there weren’t
For my arrival
And yes,
I am a flower girl
I’m God’s favourite flower girl
Always bringing
To other peoples’
And goodbyes
And celebrations

But what do I have to celebrate?
When I drive deep into the night
I begin to close my eyes
Gripping the steering wheel

Would you get me flowers
If you knew how that would make me feel

I’m God’s favourite

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Love poem in blue: Four hours (franklin avenue)

Love poem in blue: Four hours (franklin avenue)

If you’re new to my collection of poetry, love poems are typically in pink, but this one seemed to fit a blue backdrop better than pink.

I’m alright with being an ordinary girl
Not very many followers, not very many friends
My circle is too small to heal me
So I paint circles with the ink that bleeds off of a page when water washes away all of the bittersweet words
Your old Cambridge literary journals
If I ever loved you, it wasn’t on purpose

I clean up nice
Baby doll dresses
I-, I-, I always wanted to be famous
Just to one person
Just to be his world
His source of power
But I burnt out so, so young
I can taste the bitter tar endings on my tongue
The combustion of whatever you and me ever were to be

One word replies
You think you’re so wise!
You use black curtains to hide from the sun
The only thing hotter than your large caliber gun
A soundproof room
A baby blooms
Angel bed where there lives the city of sin
Insensitive, discerning, you’re impervious to loss
I wanted you badly
But at what cost?

Franklin avenue where my bike crashed into your lawn
And I fell down underneath the hot summer sun
Absorbed it like water on sheets
We laughed and had blisters on our feet
You told me you’d never leave

You frustrate me when you don’t hit me up first
Totaled your Panamera, you forgave me, cos I love you the most
Laughed about it on an Instagram post

In your sleep you have the wildest dreams
Most consist of you marrying me
You’re more romantic than you make things seem
Probably because you don’t know what’s beneath
Your skin is so soft, so soft
Grey fuzzy blanket for movie night in the loft
With you all I ever want to do is get lost
And all I think about
Is me plus you, in any place

In any place
In any place
Let our sour love surface
In any place
In any place

Tell me you love looking in my direction
Make me bleed out my inner infection
Start a bone marrow collection

I close my eyes and picture the garden of Eden
But you’re not there
Well then
The devil in the details is trying to tell me
That this is what I need

A peacefulness cradles me in comatose, amber silk
You’re hopeless and breathless
I’ve loved you for hours
Your despondent wake
Your ivory powder

And I’ve loved you and
loved you
For hours
Four hours
I’ve loved you
For four hours
And hours

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Love poem for a boy: Physics study hall

Love poem for a boy: Physics study hall

There was a boy with a voice like yours in the physics study hall
I thought it was you
I could feel myself glowing
A little bit
But when I looked in his direction
I only saw my own reflection
In the clear glass of the windowpane
And I looked so gentle
So foggy, so full of you
So full of it

It comforted me
Me there, temporarily filled with bliss
Listening to a voice that was just like yours
Of a guy that was distant, too, but reminiscent in ways
That surpassed my expectations
But ruined them at the same time
(I wanted you, there)
(I wanted you, standing, there)

While I was editing my little daily tasks in my peony-covered black planner
Carbon black
Panic attack
So remarkable, engrained with tact
Grab me right back
Panic attack
Hold me like that
Crisp edges
Distant, so distant, so distant it seems

Lake Michigan, Chicago, Illinois

Take hold of me
Run with me through the pouring, strong but absently delicate rain
Ask me about my past
Tell me about back home
Where your parents are from
Where your sister lives, with her husband, and why you’re not married
By now
In your late thirties

Tell me about the years that you came of age
To blossom, to endure
Rabbit holes
Soft edges
How you became a man
Sharp, marked silhouette, dark fragrance
Cascading vision
Bold and crimson
Smooth and hollow
Ambient surfaces
Ribbons tied with cherry-lined trails
Puddles on the ground and clusters of snails
The stillness seeps beneath me so absentmindedly

I’m reading about
Restriction enzymes
Wondering what I’m going to say to you
When I see you
And I’m wearing my Chicago Cubs baseball cap
Because I know you’re a Dodgers fan
And I wonder
To myself
If you’re going to say something
About that

And you
And I’m alone now, in the car
About to drive the fourty miles home
Not vacant because I’m too whole to begin with, to be disembodied
But still
Not knowing
Which fragrance you wear
And seeing
Your long blonde hair
Falling alongside your bold, hardened face
That was not looking
In my

Like a marble that rolls far, far away from you
I thought I heard you in the physics study hall
But I only saw my reflection in a still-glass superficial surface

And that told me all I had to know

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