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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Love poem: As vacant (mine)

distantcaveLeave a comment

Love poem: As vacant (mine)

It scared me so
I knew
We were going down
I knew
You would not turn around
And still
Like a beat
I’m made of memories
Crystal castles
Made of ashes
My forgetful apprentice
With wrath like a vengeance
Misinterpreted my withdrawn
Glances at the sharp, flawlessly glamorized corners of the living room
(Mine)

Velveteen heart-shaped sunglasses
When I’m asleep, you know it plays
Again on repeat
The things
You said
When my hands were in my lap
I can’t
Even sleep
I can’t
Even sleep
I can’t
Even sleep

I can’t
Find a song
That makes you make sense to me
More than
The last
Few words you sent
And how
Fast I sank
My teeth
Into my hand
To keep
From setting my bedroom on fire

All the wires
All the while –
They surrounded me like filth
Carcasses of your hypnotic, granite, carbon imagination
An avalanche of insecurities, I thought I had
Swallowed
In a strawberry, lime, and gin cocktail
Held fragile

An escape would be too good to be true
Though it wouldn’t make me think less about you

Soft skin
In collapsing horizons
Pitfalls
Two doves on a swing
I’ll give you my everything
Every last piece of marble and copper

In the mornings, we eat vegan butter on toast
And our evenings of suffering remake every inhospitable, tarnished spider web
That fills us with a skepticism
Too delicate to absolve
(Mine)

In waves, so transient
A hospital bed
With white flowers for
For me, for me, for me
For me, for me, for me
For me

And I deleted my profile because
I can’t handle falling in love again
I can’t help
I can’t handle
I can’t handle falling in love again
I can’t help
I can’t handle
I can’t handle falling in love again
I can’t help
I can’t hang
I can’t feel

Anything that could get me close
Anything that could get me close

We were so close
I can’t help
I can’t help
Thinking we were so close,

Like an inopportune sky
Just there
Us two

Probably as vacant as each other

© Elle Silvestrov

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Free verse poem: The evening spent waking up (Chicago)

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Free verse poem: The evening spent waking up (Chicago)

Tell me a fable
A pretty one
Lie if you can make it half-decent

It’s as if embers from my rotten tomb have come back to life as
Soft pink edges
Anatolic, seemingly vacant rings of fire
Undertones of bluish-grey with a violence that
Covers me in indifference
But I want it to be rapture, in evocative coincidence
A tint of reimagined tendencies
My scattered disarray of silenced opinions
And violet ultramarine hesitation

I try to be gentle
But I step on leaves that crack
Crossing my fingers, there wasn’t a snail
Underneath

Behind my trepidation
There is a vicinity with a lakeside residential view
I couldn’t breathe when you were holding me
I felt like I was becoming discolored
Wondered what part of that I devised

A satin grey globe where we
Envisioned our honeymoon
Picked out places, names that seemed familiar
A euphoric but decidedly shapeless language
A foreign body
Like tectonic plates
Smooth, but not comatose
On close on purpose
A bittersweet taste
A light that turns on when you want it to be dark
A fire alarm
That burns

A missed left turn
Turn the page, crash, and burn
And still I stand at the cashier, holding dollar bills that are paper thin
Like the epitome of a half-circle
Like the cigarette, you don’t put out
Because you let the street take care of it
Cherish it
Marinate it in the heat of October in Los Angeles
A vehemence down beneath that which can’t be seen
And is never spoken aloud

Imbued by a cityscape, I miss more than you can possibly imagine
The twinkling city lights
A cacophony of everything that was so right for me
Felt so good to me
And the plasm lost its charge, and the dewdrops disappeared
I never quite got over it

Chicago
I miss you
The way you held me close to you at night
Nobody ever did it better
Than you

I’m finding it hard to
Be like a daisy
In the breeze, that moves my hair
To the other side

I hold my head in my hands
I feel like

Coming apart tonight
To tell you the truth

Endless interlaced reflection symmetry to tell me I am not what someone wants to find
Not what anybody would look for
Unless they were as disillusioned as my perception of self

Though it seems that tonight is the night
I warned you
I told you
I’m coming apart just right

Nobody ever held me like you, forgetful city