Category: Pink

Love poem: God’s favourite flower girl

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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
Look
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
Outside
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
Flowers
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
Flowers
For my arrival
And yes,
I am a flower girl
I’m God’s favourite flower girl
Always bringing
Flowers
To other peoples’
Weddings
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 for a boy: Physics study hall

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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
(Hope)

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
Fact

And you
Didn’t
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
Direction

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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Love poem for him: earthquake

distantcaveLeave a comment

Love poem for him: earthquake

You know I stopped myself before I could love you
But
We broke apart
And I can’t help but stare
At your blank, sad face
And the only thing sad about it
Is that you’re not afraid to let me go
You’re not afraid to let

I tried to wake up
But I’m always on the wrong side of the bed
We never got to have that night in the hotel
We never got to have that heavenly first dance
The first and the last pages don’t make me too sad
It’s the way the world turns
Your fingers latched on
Not very tight
Like a blouse that’s unloosened
A foggy memory that never becomes clear

I’m trying to relive the skyscrapers and unraveling chaos
Though all that comes to mind in abstract vision and delusion,
Is you screaming in my direction
Telling me to stop
Telling me to stop
Telling me to stop

What makes you so afraid
To show love to an unloved person
The way you play guitar
It makes me so sad
It makes me so sad
Not for anything do you feel bad
Like grey, fallen embers on a cold winter night
Even though you’d say you’d never
Be there for me
Your sovereignty
Your power

And I remember you
Telling me to stop
Telling me to stop
Telling me to
Telling me to stop

Feeling the things that only I do
The distance that separates me from jagged, carbon you
In ocean waves, we grasp at what feels familiar
What’s underneath us will quench our thirst
Yours, preferably
Mine, isn’t regarded
Unless it’s four in the afternoon & the sun is piercing your nerves
Telling you that these antics are your last fatal curse
I’m far removed
To tell you the truth
I do only the things the boldest among us do

I don’t wait until there’s nothing left to take
In the distance between your brown eyes
And these soft, fallen embers of Victorian blue
Crawl back
Crawl back
Panic attack
Mesh and in pieces
Forgive me for grieving

All ends in love, and love has its reasons
Come find me
Come find me
Come find me
Come find me

It’s so unnerving
Like an earthquake on purpose
It’s so delectable
Like you’ve lost your ability to reason

I’m always portrayed as the one who leaves the throne
Gown is disheveled, porcelain skin intact
Like an earthquake on purpose
Telling me to stop

Feeling the things that only I do
What has become of rage has given its way to you

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Love poem: I melt (just right)

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Love poem: I melt (just right)

I am a lavender riverbed
Milky and calm, docile and proud
Warm in the daylight
Looking for you, in the crowd
Foreign faces that look so withdrawn from me
My small network of webs and dandelions
Like tulips that fade to faint, but realized, shades of deep pink & lavish gold
Rising with the sun
Feeling down on my drive home
A mainstay of sleep-away camps and forgotten flowers
Collapsing in the evening
On my lush bedspread because I’m tired, so tired
Of living without you

To write
My digits
Down on a scratch sheet of paper
A ripped-to-pieces piece of art
Silence heard through a megaphone
I used to adore that store, the one named Michael’s
The one that sold craft supplies, stamps and postage, stickers that sparkled
In the right light
Ribbons and yarn, solid charcoal-black projectors
Fine point pens –
Thin, less than a third of a millimeter, dark black and anachronistic ink

(Sink your teeth in)
I swept through pages for ages, dancing on melatonin fiber sheath
Metallic highlighters to turn my pathophysiology notebook into sheer pink that gleams
With bright, sky, abstract blues
Colours I’ve never lost touch with, clearly
My eternity, my world
Proof I exist

Vivid, soft, enchanting, nice
A sense of completeness
Something to admire
In the evenings
When I’m at my desk
Working like a husband who’s ignoring his wife
But I’d never ignore you
I’d let you
Enter my world
“Come as you are”
Leave, never
Hold on, tightly
Feel at peace

Absorb my warmth
Don’t hide from me
Come alive with me

I’m starting to
Hesitate
But I do exist boldly, fiercely
Not looming in melancholia, but observing you working on your gadgets
With your five-thousand-Kelvin bright, white light
Attached to your forehead
That doesn’t correctly present your age in years
My time spent here
Is nice when in
The presence of your softly arranged cable-knit sweaters
That you look like an angel in

I am
Starting to lose my vision
Or reminded of the vision that I have already lost
I need
To know nothing
But be admired
For existing
If that can come true?
Of course

I am
Starting to lose my vision
Or reminded of the vision that I have already lost
I need
To know nothing
But be admired
For existing
If that can come true?
Of course

What God has created will see God when creation ends

Of course I can’t argue with the possibility that,
I am deserving
Of love that knows no bounds
Scream so loud we escape the surround sound
Because we’re terrified of gravity’s inner turmoil and how houses suddenly catch on fire
How teenagers stay up for hours not knowing they need sleep to grow and
Won’t you silence my inner critic
That tells me I’m not
Pretty in this bright, white light

It’s only when you
Turn to me
That I am concave and ice
And like ice, that dissolves
I melt like chamber orchestras

Falling deeper into the web of eternity’s vision statement
My residence in this world
Is only complete, if you’ll put the down payment down
And we’ll elope to the moon

How’s that sound?
How do I look in this light?

I want to
I want to
I want to look just right

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Love poem: Sweet nectar

distantcaveLeave a comment

Love poem: Sweet nectar

It’s the waves of sadness that trickle with madness
As I cascade onto the lost heavenly golden shore,
Like a goddess from a stolen shipwreck,
I swim upstream, like an airplane in the wind
I won’t press send yet
I’ll leave you diamonds and all of your belongings, arranged into their definitive but transient places
Sprawled amongst my living room
Garments, piles of yarn & cotton
I thought I had it, but my god I’ve lost it

The breathtaking splendor
Of an afternoon in November
When you cradled me like a little baby in your mariner’s arms,
Like a tomboy
Like a child
Like with you, I’d happily run wild
Any day of the week
Do you mind if I speak
Or leave love letters, here and there, for you to read
When your eyes are
Closing
In-between somber nighttime
The stillness I could never objectify

A smooth transition
Won’t you pay attention
I’ve got my hair in curls, a floral neckline
A passerby’s time
Glance at the clock
I almost forgot
I have to let the sheep out before the wolves come back
From hiding
They do like to do that
So rambunctious and eerie
They paint me quite freely

I do love their art – I go to all of their showings
Even when they take place on a Tuesday, or Wednesday, and I’ve got more work to do than I can account for

I’m a lady of charm
And you’ll always find me armed
That part you can disregard

Glock 23 G23 Pistol Semi Auto Firearm Handgun Schematic

I won’t shrink in your presence
I occupy a throne
I go to places where most would be too scared to step on their own
It’s my afternoon glow
When you find me on that smooth soft-stoned path,
The dismay leaving my eyelids as I cast you not an ember of a doubt
But a becoming smile
Welcoming
Almost
Briefly
Weeping
Holding to you closest, what you want most

And that is?
That is?
Something to never be replaced
Something I won’t touch lightly on
Whispering to those in particular who have the patience to sound my vowels and consonants out, deal with the aftermath
Elegantly
Soft in the evenings
Rambunctious – they all are
Their witch hazel broiler room ticking clock
Like apricots at a wedding
In the middle of February
For no reason, no reason
For no reason at all

I sat down with you, there, close to the prisoner’s fence
I wanted to inquire whether you loved me
I can’t remember what I said
But I did
And that’s that
You’ll run me a cold lavender bath
Finding my hazel glow a little too appealing
Hopefully, I hadn’t been too revealing
The room is spinning
And I am thinking

You’re like sweet nectar from a flower that’s never been held

© Elle Silvestrov

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