Category: Pink

Love poem: Pink cashmere daydream

distantcaveLeave a comment

Love poem: Pink cashmere daydream

A penchant for swimming in rivers too deep to be my abyss
In fragile momentum, I find
Apricots
And shades of silver lightning
Collapsing interwoven honeyed harmonies that indicate a linear adoration
Cut like a crisp stone scattered in orchestration but ruined by damage
That seeped up when I went to sleep and I found that to be the last drawback
I sailed too fast
I redact my last remark
I kissed you too fast
Didn’t know where to start
So I plunged so far ahead of time I thought I almost lost you but
In your pink cashmere sweater you said I was better
Than all the last ones combined
And I laughed
Softly
Globally
Hopefully

Alone in the car, I stared at the floor
The bitter horror found me gazing at whatever was familiar
I took the cobblestone and I built a new throne
But it felt so empty sitting there all alone
You know the name of every anatomical bone
And your collarbone is like morning ballet on a fresh Sunday, holding white roses for performers
Putting your arm around me
Chemicals of amphetamine
Pink cashmere daydream

Holier than heavy black tar
That we cleaned like available vacuums at a self car wash
Dispensable
Agreeable
A comfort to the chaos
A detachment so surreal
You kept moving my long blonde hair because it covered my eyes
And that
Bothered you
Slightly
I’m too shy to figure out why
I wouldn’t dare say you wanted to
See me
In the wild
Winter storms for cars that have poor engines
Screwed up transmission
To be by your side at a fireplace
That’s Sunday for the moon to bear witness
That Sunday when we drank tea and
Truly engaged, we
Smiled for long periods of time
As the world passed us by,

I looked across the field and I saw what you meant about how the haze seems so foggy
So transgressed
You find clouded cataracts in vast open skies
You find evening channels on the television
Your visor doesn’t fit you
My baseball caps need to be adjusted
We split caramel lollipops into two and talk about all the things we’re planning to do
I believe in you
I truly believe in you

The gas station where your face becomes rosy-pink because I paid you a compliment
Or three
You’re blushing
It’s charming
And yet so disarming
Because I’m just a girl and I don’t know what I’m doing
And you
So self-assured
So on path, so on-course
Layered within your default settings of adjustment tendencies
I’m small
So small
Like a stone
In water
Always underwater
Always plunging down
Always in sheer phosphorescent shadows of blue
And I make my way to you
And you tell me to go pay the cashier
I read your last name on your credit card
Not once
But twice

I make my way
Back to the station wagon with your favourite chips
And Mountain Dew
Good with navigation
Reads maps for the sheer delight of it
The fruits of our labor
Rear mirror directed towards you for you to put light pink lip gloss on
Like a Princess
Like a fairy tale
Like diamonds
Like matcha green tea lattes that you pay for out of sheer hospitality
Because you’re older

Because you’re older
Getting rosy-pink cheeks
I said you were sweet
You’re playing the song I have a tattoo of on my thigh on repeat
Because you’re so sweet
Because you’re older
Because your cheeks are rosy-pink

Can’t miss a single second
I try not to blink
Don’t want to miss a single thing
I try not to blink

Because you’re older
Because you’re so sweet
Because your cheeks are rosy-pink

I try not to blink

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Love poem: Fine craftsmanship (prayers)

distantcaveLeave a comment

Love poem: Fine craftsmanship (prayers)

Wild sweet jasmine
To be your
Ruby red grapefruit, in the evenings
I created the end, and I made it into a new beginning
Cowboys on ranches far away
White carnations
Love letters – February through May
The bitter ruins of my golden but soft decay
My work is my turmoil, my kingdom is where I’ve come home to play
Twirl my hair around thorns, like the ocean
Softly sway
Hips in the distance
Grey fossils, treasured finds
A new day, a fresh surprise
My loving green eyes

Tan corduroy jacket
Your bitter resentment
Hollow times with crisp features
A medieval castle for which the chambers held me too tightly
At an uneven slant
A rug on the floor of rather ravishing woodwork
Fine craftsmanship
Estranged notices
French boutiques
Dolls, eerily
Arranged
In singular form
Entranced forever
When you say your prayers, who are you saying them to
Do you believe they can hear you?

John Wayne’s face engraved on a keychain I bought in a tiny town in Texas
The boys were awfully nice
They said the funniest things
I could imagine, I could imagine
Turning suddenly
Away from the shore
Hardly ever get bored
Always waiting for more
Deftones on megaphones
White leather cowboy boots, whatever fashion means to you
It means nothing to me; I’m so at peace in the wild country
I want to be smothered in everything
I want the most handsome boy in the entire world to come marry me

A sticker peeling off a cup, washed one too many times
I saw what you wrote in your letter
I thought you hinted at
Despondency
It was transparent
So fluid I almost didn’t have to read between the margins
You held your gaze low
I knew what you were about
I can ache but I can hardly shout
Not a day goes by where I don’t rearrange my doubts
And I may mean little to you, but that’s something to think about
The violent vehemence of what this rendition says in whispers to you, me
My small town
My spam risk
My desolate, brisk characteristics like islets of weakness and Beethoven
Beaming down the hallway
Fresh-faced, rosy
She’s so pretty, she’s so pretty, she’s so graceful & pretty
Mid-16th century dream queen

Am I reminiscent of anything that bores you to death
Amphitheaters of despair
Hold me
Unfold me
Run wild with me

Be forever unafraid with me

Who do you say your prayers to
Do you really believe they can hear you

Love poem: Coughing over the telephone

distantcaveLeave a comment

Love poem: Coughing over the telephone

I’m happy that I didn’t tell you
(I’m glad that you didn’t catch it)
I picked dandelions for you and I left them by the swing-set
That you walk by on your way home from the market
With non-dairy milk
Of your choosing

You don’t like when others catch you smiling
You don’t like being caught off-guard
You’re like a maze I never stop running through

Some people you can only admire from afar
You can never really get too close
They’ll feel you’re closing in
They’ll be suffocated
Whether you’re carrying ballet-slipper pink love in a cradle or stockpiled, cotton oversized beach towels with their favourite colour (black) printed on both sides
The vehicle isn’t of importance
The weight of your serenity is still too heavy
He’s distant, and he enjoys being distant because he thinks it gives him a better view of the world
He doesn’t know
He just doesn’t see it like I see it
And I don’t see it like he sees it
And we never see each other

I’m swimming in a laundromat, I’m stuck in the washer to my worn Lucky Brand Jeans
There are round lilac pellets that add fragrance to my worn Lucky Brand jeans, but I can’t smell how lovely it is in here because
I’m underwater
And there’s soap in my throat
And I’m calling you on the telephone
And my name comes up, and it looks foreign to you
And you decide not to pick up
And I need you in ways I can never say out loud
Not to you, not to God, not to my mother
Not to anybody at all
And I know if you unlocked the washer to let me out, I’d hit the ground
Hard
Spilling all over the floor
Wretched, ragged
A mess
And I’d be free at last
But forever without you
And my Lucky Brand jeans would find their peril as the homemaker that is my fragile, porcelain body never got to move them to the dryer
Coughing up lint
Missed dentist appointments
Missed phone calls
Missing you, always

I put daisies in a jar and I covered them with enough dirt so that nobody would know they were ever there
Like a corpse in a forgotten film
Like a B-rated whatever gets a B-rating
Like your cats above your vocal booth
Like the numbers you don’t have memorized
Like the girl you never call on the telephone
That only has your contact information saved
And nobody else’s

Coughing up dandelions
Coughing up soap
Coughing up lint
Coughing up fevers
Coughing up memories of you and I sharing a cigarette and laughing
Coughing up dirt
Coughing up the sound of the dial
Coughing up a sweet voicemail message that I didn’t leave because I’m not a sweet girl, nor yours
Not the hazel remnant of someone landing on the moon
The very first time
Ronald Reagan was robbed
Missed telephone calls

I miss you, on repeat

Love poem: Work phone (could have)

distantcaveLeave a comment

Love poem: Work phone

Originally titled: Scattered in assembly, grief like parasites

Let’s see if the other songs make me feel the same
In the summer you would wildly bake
I’m making cookies for you
I’m so wrapped up
I’m losing track of time
The thought of you along with me for the ride sounds mighty sweet
Peaches in the summertime
Salt underneath the white sunlight

You tell me I have a way with words
I don’t talk to you

I been trying to find a band that makes music like yours does
If it’s snowing outside, then I’ll know it
If you’re hopeful about us, I hope you show it
Ambivalent remarks
I have a reason to be mad
But you know I don’t like to get like that
The soft, almost hypnotic but still remaining delicate, haze leaves embers that are more like satin than I could envision, truly
Truly I won’t ever forget about you
Even when I’m in my bedroom and there’s nothing else to do
I draw fine point flowers, the ways you liked
You’d carry your bike up the stairs
You were the perfect height

Underneath that tree that looks like a willow tree, but it’s not
Yeah, I get caught in my fears
And yeah, I haven’t heard your voice in years
I go to the market and buy flowers for none other than myself
I’m so selfish, it seems
I’m not who you want me to be
I’m so much better & I decided against writing you a letter
You probably never get the mail

I was so shy the whole time
But I wasn’t tearing myself apart inside
A healthy alarm
A life on a Midwest farm
In Chicago I always felt sad for the horses carrying the carriages
& I thought about how beautiful marriage is

I’m obsessive over pearl white highlighter for my cheeks
You could have called me from your work phone
If you wanted it that badly, you could have called me from your work phone
I don’t count the numbers when I’m cycling down the street
I have your first song on repeat
I love that you wrote it about me

Go back when, go back when trails were fierce
My blouse, then, on fire, ashes coating my decay
It felt so bad
It felt so bad
You didn’t notice I missed you when I’d find myself next to empty space
You couldn’t have known, just call me on the phone
You could’ve called me from your work phone

I was scared that when the clouds would disappear my imagination would be as the vacant sky
Vast, open land
Ill-fated farmer’s tan
Picking strawberries, with you they were so sweet
I asked if you knew what you were doing to me
Our secret spot by the bar with the brutal death metal concert posters all over the walls
I loved you when I was in hell
Thousands of secrets I never got to tell
Nothing you have is from me to keep
I only sing to you when you’re falling asleep

Coat me in amphetamines
Coat me in amphetamines
One of us knows each other the best
The darkness fades away, I put it to rest
Flourish in the marine ecosystem like I just learned how to swim and I feel like I never ever want to stop
Yeah, I know about mirror neurons
And I know my long blue dress turns you on
I remember all of our songs
I knew what was under the rug all along
I only pretended to misplace your things

You never got ahold of me
You never got ahold of me
Not saying goodbye was awfully bold of me
That’s not what I’m like, but my mind just changed
Summers covered with insurmountable levels of pain
Everything adds up
You won’t catch up
Coat me in amphetamines
You could have called me from your work phone

You could have called











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Poem: Play the part (soft amber)

distantcaveLeave a comment

Poem: Play the part (soft amber)

Okay
I think I’ve gone mad
I cough in waves
A sphere of ballet-slipper pink encompasses me
The sole holder of what is now devoid
Empty nest
Cradle me
Hold me tight in the wind
I’m in distressed fashion, but not plastic
Changed my state of mind, nothing too drastic
Won’t call or rush you, I know you’ll panic
Can’t get enough of you, even after I’ve had it

Cashmere sweater to say hello to me
Cologne that moves me like sand taken back by the waves into the dawning paradise
The white sunshine’s rays take over the garden and backyard
I’m slender and concave
Hand on my neck
The mist of you breathing is like a slow song by violin
I go up in fumes
I like the sight of you
I’m delicate, not angry
I’m fine with a spoon and strawberry-mint sherbet
I like the things you say

We get along, so it’s easy
I blush and you tease me
You help me believe in

Clusters of smoke that I’ll find myself on the other side of
Passengers, waiting, anxious, gold watches
Time consumes eternity for eternity
The server is nice and kind
He smiles at both of us at the same time
We laugh, we don’t think he’s an ordinary guy
Make up worlds and things to comment on
My literature is your marketplace
My bookshelf is always kept well-dusted in the case that you visit
I’m prepared with strawberry lip balm
Rose-coloured cheek tint
Floral fragrance
Never forgotten
You call me quite often

 


On time every time
Dressed to look and play the part
Dressed how I like
Amber tones in your skin

I sip my afternoon tea and think
Of the way you looked when you turned towards me
Like entering a rose garden
Like getting home before six
Like clean dishes and cut grass
We love doing chores, we never get bored
We love telling each other our daily correspondences and farewells
We love sharing this satin sofa like its royal blue colour makes us think of wet blueberries on Monday morning
Fruit in plastic bags
Plastic bags in work bags
Work bags on shoulder
Three takes to get the perfect kiss just right

I’ll be seeing you in a few hours
And I’m so proud to play the part


You make it feel right











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