Love Poem: New York baby doll (cream sweater)

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Love Poem: New York baby doll (cream sweater)

The type of girl that you want to meet
And to think that we met on the street
And you watched me tag my website on the grey, electrical box in black sharpie and cursive
For nobody to read, to not bother to glance
And you laughed not at me, but with me
Like we were on amphetamines
Like you aren’t as traffic-stopping, rush-hour-madness gorgeous as you are
How you framed a framework of genuine spirit
And the spirits on your golden side table
And the sweet drinks you made me because you store simple syrup
Little bartender in a black top
With hair like she just left the Manhattan salon
With a smile like she’s been happy all along

I don’t think I ever mentioned it at all
I was just
Struck
By the plants you have arranged on your glass windowsill
The cotton, white, dreamlike, lush bedspread
(I made your bed for you like a hundred times)
I wanted to show you I can perform acts of service
Because I clean when I get nervous

And my god, my dear god
My god, did you make me nervous
But not on purpose
Some people exude a confidence that inspires the same thing in yourself
But there’s still this nervous laughter of
How is she so composed
How is she hardly older than I, and so, so –
Full of experience
Full of delight
Worth talking and laughing from dark to the morning light
If this is fleeting, I can accept that
But some people
You want to know what lets them breathe
And I’ve got your clothes, I’ll give them right back
My New York damsel in sovereignty, too chill to be distressed
I’ll have you at your worst; I’ve already seen you at your best

But I’ll have you at your worst; I’ve already seen you at your best

I hope that you’re happy
I hope you wake up and fall in love with the world
I hope your parents love you
And if they don’t, I hope that in your head you tell them to go fuck themselves but keep them in your prayers every night
You deserve
Confetti streamers on your birthday
Someone to travel on the train for 2.5 hours with 29 golden balloons to
Surprise you with celebration

Something about you is so familiar
Something about you is so new
You looked at me with cocaine eyes when I grew solemn and blue
But I wasn’t tired of you
I was just tired- I was up all night!
This girl’s got a bedtime
And I slept well
But it might be my insecurity, for I can’t tell

If I made the right impression
God, I talked so much
Why’d you make me feel so comfortable!
Why did I have to enjoy your presence!
Under the city street lights when I first glanced in your direction, I thought “my god, she probably has everything”

The first impression
That you made
It is one that may partially come from you, and a portion from the book you lent me
Well, I’ll read it, and all that you highlighted – I love the little shades of blue hue
I’ll learn your secrets
I hope you’re living
A life you dreamt of
I hope to be
Someone you’ll send a message to when you’re
Stuck
Not knowing what to wear,
Bored and want to make me a drink, talk about the weather, don’t even have to think
Want someone to make you laugh about everything
Because I’m good at being that

My New Year’s resolution is to be accepting of myself
So I can stop second-guessing whether others accept me
And start living life as boldly and securely as you appear, you stunning avalanche of a porcelain doll

Think I’m starting to think
This year is going to be new for me
It’s only the seventh, and I’m on my pink bedspread in your cream white sweater
Somehow we’re the same size
Even though you’re smaller
Porcelain and clover, golden and sapphire

And you like luxury the way I do
And you don’t eat animals because you care
And we’re the same age but wiser beyond our years
Even though the boys would never tell us that our face

You’re awfully good at first impressions
Is there anything that I forgot to mention?
Shut up, don’t make fun of me for my apprehension

Make love to me under the twinkling lights
Let me give you directions

Porcelain skin, long princess hair
With plants on your windowsill
Downtown Los Angeles, May earth baby girl of nonchalance & sheer observation

Because being alive is just enough for you
Because being alive comes naturally to you
And you told me, not once- but twice
That you’re happy I’m here too
New York baby doll
You were a star in the fleeting night
While you’re in your studio, I’ll be right here
I’ll be right here
The things you said to me
They meant so much to me to hear

The plants arranged on your windowsill
I can’t wait to tell you their genus and species
Because I like biology
And you like theories
And your projector television screen illuminated a light upon your silhouette that made you look even more like a fever dream

In your cream sweater
I feel much better

So call me if you ever want to chat about the weather

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Free verse poem: Get over it (cream sweater)

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Free verse poem: Get over it (cream sweater)

This is one of the shortest poems I’ve ever drafted. Many people think my poetry blocks are separate poems, but they’re actually all one post – I think it’s in being ethnically Russian that makes me so verbose. Sometimes I think I’m entirely composed of words. Enjoy. – Elle

In a cream sweater, I lie polished in the sand
Me, right there, with just the right tan
Your diamond slippers
Soft chain-tainted, frozen and milky bite
Sweet medallion, golden skyline
Treasured and regarded
Held too tight

Never enough
It’s never enough
I’m never enough
Never enough
It’s never enough
I’m never

Like cobblestone paths that I walked along in the summertime
Sweet and concrete
Soft like the horizon
That falls like a ghost, which I warned you about
Not once, twice – not once, many times
Sweet, hazel eyes
Blemished skin
Soothing fireplace memories and lullabies in notebooks
Lined with crisp-white, apricot pages
Laced garments
Torn to pieces
Left for those who traveled never too far away from where they were raised
To lay down forever, at least in the garden
Until the fountain ceases to calculate its own mistakes

Tell me what it is you dream about

I flat iron my hair, and I separate the strands
They fall
I’m beside myself
And I think of diamonds
Gazing at the dandelions on my coffee table
I notice that the table leg is about to come apart

Never enough
It’s never enough
I’m never enough
Never enough
It’s never enough
I’m never

And I, too
Dissolve like the sea

And I, too
Wish you were over me

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Love poem: Someone new (pastel pink blush)

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Love poem: Someone new (pastel pink blush)

You were a one-man show
Hardly feeding off the audience
And I was so afraid of ever letting you down
But when I think of last winter
I lose my train of thought
Like my body’s trying to tell me
Not to go back there
Not to stay aware
Not to send you a letter to let you know I’d be there

I don’t have
Any photographs
Because I thought I wasn’t the type to document things
And when you’d leave the table
To take a call
I’d find comfort in sitting alone at the bar
Like I showed up on my own
With nobody to remind me
The emptiness of staring in the corners of the eyes of my boy as he’s gazing away
Not taking notice of the blush on my cheeks
That I re-applied several thousand times
To paint myself as
A happy girl
A happy girl
The corner of your deep brown, vacant eyes

I stayed awake, most nights
Couldn’t bear to turn off the lights
Had stunning pink visuals running through my neural fiber sheath
Racing our cars against each other
Through the wind and never without
Asking about your day because that, to me, was the most important part of mine
How I grew so tired sometimes
Wondering if I had
Mistakenly locked myself up in a basement surrounded by mirrors
I could never bring myself to look in because
I knew
The light pastel pink blush on my cheeks
Wasn’t quite right
Wasn’t quite right

Sometimes I hear a song
That I think you might like
I guess I’m still wondering how to make you feel better
It wears me out
I turn off the sound
Because of this, it just doesn’t feel right
It just doesn’t feel right
That it’s a Saturday and I’m alone tonight

But it’s like I’ve arrived at my desk so that I could sit with the silence
Wondering the count of the distance between us in miles
Ripping the Christmas card I bought for you into small pieces
That was old news, old news, old news
Maybe next December
I’ll have gotten over you

And that could feel
Quite right
And I could turn off
The light
And I could get my blush
Just right

By being with someone new

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Soundcloud poetry: 2 new soundcloud entries

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Soundcloud poetry: 2 new entries, listen here

Listen to “Belongings (how I want you to leave)” which you can find at: https://lilacdove.com/blog/free-verse-poem-belongings/

The second is titled “This time (Freshwater Lilies)” and has never been posted.

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Free verse poem: The ending of our story (bored)

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Free verse poem: The ending of our story (bored)

I told him he could have
Any part of me that he wanted
All the marble he envisioned
Chilled and defeatist, but forever unmoving
Sparkles that shape the tide of your marked ingenuity
Cold heaven, sacred
Worn out walls of fibers and satin sheath
At sundown, we rest and reprieve
Find solace in the mistakes that counted against us
One by one

Rosemary falls beneath you like evangelical riverbeds
Rainfall on a crisp white, bestowed meadow
Damsel in distress, sitting at Cape Cod
Breathing in the marine layer
Decadent, but desolate perchance
A personal favor for nobody
In particular

If you have a minute
Cos you always have a minute
For me
Save me some time
Buy mine sharply, but not robustly
Golden edges
Soft-lit amber haze that spins like a year of soft rock (lamenting, slowly)
Lightning
Moons that belong to seasons and
Seasons that belong to no one
In particular

If ownership is inconsequential of time
And we all have time
For other people
Do we, do we?
What is it that we desire?
If only
If only
I could have made my mark by now

I lapsed into a momentum where I could not shift my gaze correctly at the afterthought of
How I made sense to nobody
And nobody made love to me
Why would they?
Would they, even?
Would I let anyone see me in that still?
When my hazel eyes bend like the seas
How could I summon anything more glamorous than how the evening resides in a French solitude that complements my need for quality alone time

When I am not made of silk or marble but
Fragments of broken chamber orchestras
That cascade like I’m running away from forever
A soft drink on a Wednesday, in gloomy July
A honeymoon for your favourite runaway bride

On the flight, they asked if I wanted alcohol
And I erupted in a laughter that was
Seemingly inappropriate
For the vague informality of the occasion.

In rapture
I used to be unable to feel thrills because my being did not accept them as kind
One amongst the wolves
Rambunctious and heroic in nature, but a hero to no one

Don’t get me confused
I do find it amusing
How the symphony plays all of their longest songs just for me
And how nobody ever really takes hold of your name
Or your posture
When you’ve
Spent your life
Awake by pretense

An effort to be
In combat, like a dove,
A soft sparrow, seemingly longing for an ending to the illusion
With whom?
With whom do I share my fears!
What cave do I run to when I’m cold, covered in mud
Shivering and despondent

They know my face but haven’t counted the dots on my cheeks
They don’t know what I look like when I cry
Or why I do
If I ever
Decide to break the stillness of my figure
That makes me heavenly in God’s eyes

There is no reason to run
I say, I say to myself; I say it often.
Settle here forever in the dawn of the styrofoam melted cacophony where
I and you melt in two interchangeable pastel colours
Decide to go on a journey because we are
Bored
And so tired of being chained to our demonic vanity mirrors

Alone
But in plenty
Of patient, never-forgetting ambitions & daydreams

I lost the ending to our story
I just
Let it slip
Away from where I sleep at night

I let the silence consume my boredom

© Elle Silvestrov

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