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Love poem: Don’t leave (me be)

I’m unstable
And I can’t tell you I’m unstable
Because I know you’ll leave
I know you’ll leave

I look at my telephone; I put it down
I’m running around
I try to picture us together, in the rose gardens and wildflowers
But I’m holding on to a secret that’s like a back brace you don’t see me carrying
I act in idiosyncratic ways
And when I lose sight of your gaze,
I go in transient circles, wondering if I’ve lost you entirely
Come, lie in bed with me
Breathe beside me
Breathe out your exasperated fumes, and I’ll intake your carbon dioxide
All I can get
To move on to the next page
To avoid being stagnant
But it’s out of habit
That I crawl under the covers and I shut my eyes
Praying, only praying, that sleep will come bless me
Like it does, you, when you’re tired of fighting

The chaos that is driving me to combust
To erupt in fragrant comatose remedies only made for
Heavenly maidens under God’s brightly lit eyes
I’m not that type of person
I’m the one that lives with the curse in
-side me like a poison
That’s stumbling and rocking and weaving in between the Heavens to serve me a splendor I
Never deserved

But I would
I should
Get up in time
Take the frostbite right off me
And take off my hospital gown
Surrendering to the amplified surround sound
The blankets we put over your walls to keep the vocal tone pitch in the points that mesmerize us the most
Haunt us until we’re comatose
In bed with the flu
Poor, sick thing
She’ll be fine by the morning

She’ll be fine
She’ll be fine
She’ll be fine
In time

I awaken in a wretched state; I’m ghastly and ill and,
I hesitate
To reach out
I know how these things go
I know I’m alone
I know my despondency is tragic, in a way that shakes you
Like you don’t want to be shaken
Nobody wants that in place of a lullaby
And I can be that-
That soothing, transient, hypnotic daze
But I’m succumbing to old premonitions
I’m losing the battle
And I can’t let you see my struggle

It’s not pretty
It’s not on purpose
But it’s oh so purposeful
I have to move on to move on to the next page
The next page where we’ve arrived at Saturn and your eyes have a glaze like a beautiful vegan donut in a ceramic box
A chamber where I don’t make a noise
Not because I don’t know how to
Because I know not to
I just know not to

I’m losing this battle
Nobody’s on the line
And I know, I know, that in time I’ll be fine
But how I wish
Can only wish
That you were here to tell me

The twenty-seven different beautiful things you see in me
And how that projection spontaneously came to be
That’s what truly most interests me

But I won’t ask
Shove the covers and refuse to speak to my mother
I go through everything alone; it’s the way this life paves
One day I’ll be at the Heavenly gates asking for forgiveness

And I don’t think that’ll be quite in store
Or offered
To someone like me

Will you still love me?

I’m too scared to look

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• Love poem: Never leave
• New subscription form
• Poem: Ivory vacancy
• Poem: Spoiled
• Love poem: Calm like waves

Free verse love poem: Florals on film (white dove)

Short but sweet
I’m a plate of coconut-sugared honeydew
In the azure-blue wave of the evening sky,
I make my way to you
With a glistening undertone to my green eyes,
That you swear are hazel
Because you don’t look for long enough

Receptive, and kind
Is this a love letter to myself?
I want what I have to give; how can I be more transparent
Always feel like I’m tearing –
Apart music venues, but all I do is hang concert posters
Artists that I work with
They trust me with their craft
Something makes me think I should be proud of that
But I’m a mellow girl, tend to be more relaxed
(Because when it’s about me, I get frostbite)
Amputated in broad daylight

When you came over and laid on my satin blush-pink bedspread and stared at my lilac & steel grey walls,
I almost became afraid
That you’d get the wrong idea about all the wedding dress advertisements
They’re just for decoration!
(Can’t a girl feel elegant in her own residence?)
I’m not looking for tulle, when I try to breach the lull
Apprehensive about if you read what’s on my whiteboard
Like I’m the kind of person who needs inspiration external to self
But it’s all me
It all comes from me
I am the doyenne of my own prosperity
I need my very words for my sanity
And you – laying there – you probably didn’t notice
That I like white flowers too

More than my love for the moon
More than vegan blueberry pancakes with homemade butter
Horse-drawn carriages always made me sad
But a cowboy’s relation with his horse is what I admire
Absence of solicitude makes me so tired
I refused admiration for so many years
But oh, what it would be – to be softly admired!
Take away the high opinions
Give me real touch
To fawn on, to adulate
To feel you’re enough

Vindication has two different definitions, and they’re not at all alike
One is to remove someone from suspicion or blame
The other is to prove yourself right
That’s not how I want to spend the evening tonight
Even a white Mourning dove comes bearing a beak
The most indifferent amongst us would cite that as weak

But I am very familiar with my satin blush-pink bedspread
And after a long day when I rest my tired head

I think of white florals and play Baby Breath & Calla Lily film reels in my mind

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