Lilac Dove

Sweet dahlias that you admire, don’t tear
Even though you’re so unaware
Your disenchantment is what’s “cool” these days

A million ways
to tell me I look pretty
You choose none of the above because that’s not how you live

When you’re serious you can still be made to chuckle
Those hard nights— I’ll wrap them up like weeds
Never to later retrieve

Driving with sunspots coming our way
Boy with a denial of using navigation
Im thinking you love the abstraction

Me curled up on your couch
Purse on the floor, heels on the side
I’m having a party in your living room

Don’t fight it
I’m having a party in your living room
Downin’ Skinny Girl and gleaming

Falling asleep to this
A new point of view
from your living room

So, you have me flippin’ worlds around
Burning my world down to the ground
Looking up wedding dresses all day long like it’s something that’s actually on my to-do list for at least the near-future.
No.
Where’d the sentiment arrive from?
“Pawn shop blues.”
How do you do that thing you do to my thighs?
Buy me dinner, get me a drink, make me think with the subjects you bring up without feigning interest in what intrigues me too.
Be romantic, please.
Don’t overdo it.
More flowers.
Always more flowers.
Roses, tulips, daisies, more.
To decorate my apartment and
remind me of you.
Bike rides.
Even in the rain. We just need rain coats.
Duh.
Take me to new places.
Like you do.
Take me to old places.
Like you do.
Say farewell in cute ways.
Exit your vehicle to hug me goodbye.
Read my poetry but only if you’re genuinely interested.
In me.
As a person.
Not an object, nor a concept.
Don’t look for me to fulfill you.

Just let me.

You look somber, the way you put your head down
You ask me not to write about you
And then you take it back
Like it was a dirty joke you didn’t want to tell
But the sentiment is there

And I don’t know how to make you feel good
No matter what I try, it’s kind of one of those things
Where you can’t get your way
You toss and you turn but there’s rationally no movement
Gaps in between pauses
Stained sheets
What makes you feel unwell when you’re not in my presence
What makes you descend into your kinder self when you are
I am a pawn and you are my King and we lie
Adjacent at night
But not together.

Lilac-colored cherries on the tree
You know I come undone with you
I come away with you
Never feel sorry for you

And I know that
Whatever you say is true
Your waves are black and blue
Your chrysanthemums, bleek thunder views

In the deep vast, crisp ocean
I wash away with you
In my fit-and-flare wedding gown
I gaze up at you, longing
Feeling, belonging
Always up at you

Always up at you

There, concrete bridge
Throwing up like a landmine
Shocked to the brim
Might let you in

You, there for “support”
Always following me
Wherever I turn up
Scared for me
Budget B-movies
Film star queen
The things in-between
Get me out of this scene

Them, rubber toys
Making all of this goddamn noise
Unedited spherical spending like water
Shriveling cold beats
Turn up the heat
To do away with, that’s a fact
Or a vision, to destroy
Our friends we’ll employ
If we have any left by then

You, not forgotten in the least
Leather jacket, cold-hearted beast
Pockets so deep I put my hand inside
And I leave it inside
It’s comfort I find
Ask how many inches tall you are
No matter the answer it’s still up far
But with my hand in your pocket I smile
That little girl smile, you know
It’s comfort I find, you know

Maybe one day it’ll start to show