Poem: 3 in the morning (God loves you)

Poem: 3 in the morning (God loves you)

Sometimes at night
I think of you
(I’m lying – I always think of you)
There’s nothing else I’d rather do
It’s the bittersweet sting of being hopelessly enamored with you

The more you want it, the farther away it becomes
You stay up late and say you’ll sleep next to the sun
He says he’s running late, but he never does come
That’s the sad truth about not being the only one
I twirl my hair
I spin around
I choke so hard I fall to the ground
And if you calculated my efforts, I’d pay by the pound
I’m lost in abysmal and undulating surround sound

He put black padding on the walls to keep the voices quiet
Asked me what my favourite wine was and said that he’d buy it
Passed me angel dust, but I said I won’t try it
This time I’m not lying
It hurts more to keep trying
Don’t blame it on timing
If I am dust, you are worn out leather from a cow that loved to live and breathe fresh air
You ran your fingers through my soft, blonde hair
I knew you were unaware
You had me right there
You had me

Boys have short attention spans, so I’m working on making my poems shorter
As if a somber gaze doesn’t scratch at the envelope
As if the disposable cardboard coaster I kept from the bar we went to last year isn’t practically at its wit end
But I stare at it at night and I like to pretend
That you and I will never end
(You spin me round and round, you scream, you bend)
I only liked when you were drinking
Because you never stopped talking
And I could listen to your words for endless summer days

I’m watching my step
I’m too sharp for this town
I reached the vault of heaven, but you pushed me back down
And every time I walk away from you, I turn right back around
You’re the most beautiful thing that I have ever found

And if you want me, please tell me
That’s all that I ask
Because I don’t know how much longer
I can contain this chaotic energy, it’s only a setback
It pays for my grave
Collects debt at the tollbooth
Serves me a clean slate I can’t afford and makes it taste like dry vermouth
A botanical celestial atmosphere where there was you and I appeared and you said come here, baby girl, my doe-eyed dear
Please, my angel, don’t you ever disappear

I say never
Won’t do it
I’ll always be here

But you’re so distant from me that my words sound unclear
And the walls are blurry and they’re bleeding red
And I bought pink satin sheets for my queen-sized bed
And I wait every night for you to come fall sleep
But if your love cuts my skin, it doesn’t go very deep
If your flaws were secrets, they’d be mine to keep
And I replay your laugh in my mind on fucking repeat

I know only one thing that’ll make me complete
But if it’s me against her, I’m too weak to compete
I am a glacier dissolving in sunburns and aggressive summer heat
But I still thank God because he arranged for us to meet
I know it as much as I love the window seat
But I see you and her, so I make a spreadsheet
Of all the ways this is going to kill me
Please stop, only you can heal me
I need you like candy
I crave all of you
I know that my hopes are too good to be true
So I lay on the concrete, I only see in ocean-blue

I scream at God for letting me fall in love with you
It’s 3 in the morning
There’s nothing else to do

© Elle Silvestrov

I only liked when you were drinking
Because you never stopped talking
And I could listen to your words for endless summer days

Poem: 3 in the morning (God loves you)

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Poem: White mustang, no cigarettes

Poem: White mustang, no cigarettes

Out of all my vices
Got no more cigarettes
Marriage is a stretch, it’s far-fetched
A violent vehemence
That I got caught in because he said I was one of his regrets
One of his regrets
I’d protest to that
Absence of evidence

I’m a humble girl, I’m real cool
Catch me doing laps in the swimming pool
I objectify God; in all his heavens I rule
I’m not what you’re used to
But as strange as this fancy, rugged life turns out to be
I have a strange sense I won’t make it past thirty
What’s not to be is not meant to be
Coca Cola and vanilla ice cream in the evenings
Different rituals for different seasons
A stray cat, got loose, we’ll make it even
I lay back, underneath the sun, I’m gleaming
Strangers make strange choices for strange reasons

♥ Strangers make strange choices for strange reasons ♥

♥ I’m bored to death and my glamour is fading ♥

I’m bored to death and my glamour is fading
With every cheap trick you try
I glance out the window, months just fly by
My ego’s even on the same page, telling me to get rid of you
It’s like taking out the trash
One long-winded heroin crash
I pour myself a warm bath
Collapse
Small movements
Trembling
Hands around my knees, hold them close to me
Like when I held your hand, and my heart felt safe
You were looking real nice for what was a blind date
Cigarettes into ash, swear I thought it was fate
The way your fingers interlaced my wire front gate
Never over five minutes late

I’m made of caramel syrup & mocha drizzle
You taste it, you want more, I only give you a little
I’m fairly humble in my opinion
You’ll be home any minute
And I can’t wait until you get home and see my stuff is all packed
I’m going back to the city where we stayed on track
Listening to White Mustang on replay, back to back
Lana’s the only one to bring me joy
I know you’re starting to sweat, you’re feeling paranoid
It previously hadn’t occured to you that I’m someone you enjoy
The glisten on the shine of my watermelon nail polish
The sparkles of pink and white of my carefully creased eye shadow
I’m not meant for this household
Realistically it should only occupy one man
Quite frankly I don’t care if you do or you do not understand
We’re crumbling like an avalanche
I’m coughing up sand

I stayed in your company because God, I love snow
I love champagne and wearing conservative dresses to the company engagements you’d invite me too
’till one day I caught your gaze, you looked oh so blue
Like the fakeness of it all finally got through to you
You realized you weren’t capable of loving a doll like me
Little bumble bee
Awfully cruel, brutal honesty

Out of all my vices
Got no cigarettes
I remember when you said I would become your favourite regret
You used to say I was heaven-sent
You remember that agreement we made behind a peach sunset?
First one to leave gets custody

I’m packed
I’m through
I give you a note
“First one to leave gets custody”


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