Tag: about a boy

Love poem: Fine craftsmanship (prayers)

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Love poem: Fine craftsmanship (prayers)

Wild sweet jasmine
To be your
Ruby red grapefruit, in the evenings
I created the end, and I made it into a new beginning
Cowboys on ranches far away
White carnations
Love letters – February through May
The bitter ruins of my golden but soft decay
My work is my turmoil, my kingdom is where I’ve come home to play
Twirl my hair around thorns, like the ocean
Softly sway
Hips in the distance
Grey fossils, treasured finds
A new day, a fresh surprise
My loving green eyes

Tan corduroy jacket
Your bitter resentment
Hollow times with crisp features
A medieval castle for which the chambers held me too tightly
At an uneven slant
A rug on the floor of rather ravishing woodwork
Fine craftsmanship
Estranged notices
French boutiques
Dolls, eerily
Arranged
In singular form
Entranced forever
When you say your prayers, who are you saying them to
Do you believe they can hear you?

John Wayne’s face engraved on a keychain I bought in a tiny town in Texas
The boys were awfully nice
They said the funniest things
I could imagine, I could imagine
Turning suddenly
Away from the shore
Hardly ever get bored
Always waiting for more
Deftones on megaphones
White leather cowboy boots, whatever fashion means to you
It means nothing to me; I’m so at peace in the wild country
I want to be smothered in everything
I want the most handsome boy in the entire world to come marry me

A sticker peeling off a cup, washed one too many times
I saw what you wrote in your letter
I thought you hinted at
Despondency
It was transparent
So fluid I almost didn’t have to read between the margins
You held your gaze low
I knew what you were about
I can ache but I can hardly shout
Not a day goes by where I don’t rearrange my doubts
And I may mean little to you, but that’s something to think about
The violent vehemence of what this rendition says in whispers to you, me
My small town
My spam risk
My desolate, brisk characteristics like islets of weakness and Beethoven
Beaming down the hallway
Fresh-faced, rosy
She’s so pretty, she’s so pretty, she’s so graceful & pretty
Mid-16th century dream queen

Am I reminiscent of anything that bores you to death
Amphitheaters of despair
Hold me
Unfold me
Run wild with me

Be forever unafraid with me

Who do you say your prayers to
Do you really believe they can hear you

Poem: My honeybee (ocean waves)

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Free verse love poem: My honeybee (ocean waves)

Does he read these
Has he noticed
Does it matter?

I’m sitting beside the pool
Facing me
Is a honeybee
Attracted to fruit
And a porcelain girl
Soft around the edges
I allow it to crawl around and wrap itself around my ring finger
I guess we’re married now

Little thing
It doesn’t matter how much sunblock I put on, I can’t block out the sun
It’s
Coming down on me, waterfalls
Like smooth rainfall
Leaving me flush-faced, soft grace
Bitter taste
Don’t remember what it feels like
Can’t be bothered to recall
You once had me enraptured
I almost thought I had been in love
Like diamonds

I’m soft peaches in the summertime
I make fun of you so much for listening to Sublime
It’s such bad music!
Change the channel
The cute expressions you get from your grandfather
You’re oh so mysterious
You can’t be bothered!
I laugh to nobody but myself (in my head)
Washed out riverbed
Covered with vines, rusty garden shed
Honey-crisp apples, I belong to myself
The sweetest
In all of the land
I run right through you
Like falling quicksand
Can’t help it
I kind of like when I tan

It reminds me of the best parts of my dad

The Dnieper river that to me was a beach
I wanted to be pretty
Coated in bleach
Amphetamines
Smother you with nothing because I’m so shallow
I am only found on the surface, along with the waves
I swim against the current for the epinephrine release
The rush I crave
Unsettling
Dissatisfying
Marbles in whirlpools
Sadly,
Patience
Is killing me inside
And I don’t show it because I’m so shallow
I am only found on the surface
With the ocean waves
Find me here

Then wash me away

Poem: Work phone

Love poem: Coughing over the telephone

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Love poem: Coughing over the telephone

I’m happy that I didn’t tell you
(I’m glad that you didn’t catch it)
I picked dandelions for you and I left them by the swing-set
That you walk by on your way home from the market
With non-dairy milk
Of your choosing

You don’t like when others catch you smiling
You don’t like being caught off-guard
You’re like a maze I never stop running through

Some people you can only admire from afar
You can never really get too close
They’ll feel you’re closing in
They’ll be suffocated
Whether you’re carrying ballet-slipper pink love in a cradle or stockpiled, cotton oversized beach towels with their favourite colour (black) printed on both sides
The vehicle isn’t of importance
The weight of your serenity is still too heavy
He’s distant, and he enjoys being distant because he thinks it gives him a better view of the world
He doesn’t know
He just doesn’t see it like I see it
And I don’t see it like he sees it
And we never see each other

I’m swimming in a laundromat, I’m stuck in the washer to my worn Lucky Brand Jeans
There are round lilac pellets that add fragrance to my worn Lucky Brand jeans, but I can’t smell how lovely it is in here because
I’m underwater
And there’s soap in my throat
And I’m calling you on the telephone
And my name comes up, and it looks foreign to you
And you decide not to pick up
And I need you in ways I can never say out loud
Not to you, not to God, not to my mother
Not to anybody at all
And I know if you unlocked the washer to let me out, I’d hit the ground
Hard
Spilling all over the floor
Wretched, ragged
A mess
And I’d be free at last
But forever without you
And my Lucky Brand jeans would find their peril as the homemaker that is my fragile, porcelain body never got to move them to the dryer
Coughing up lint
Missed dentist appointments
Missed phone calls
Missing you, always

I put daisies in a jar and I covered them with enough dirt so that nobody would know they were ever there
Like a corpse in a forgotten film
Like a B-rated whatever gets a B-rating
Like your cats above your vocal booth
Like the numbers you don’t have memorized
Like the girl you never call on the telephone
That only has your contact information saved
And nobody else’s

Coughing up dandelions
Coughing up soap
Coughing up lint
Coughing up fevers
Coughing up memories of you and I sharing a cigarette and laughing
Coughing up dirt
Coughing up the sound of the dial
Coughing up a sweet voicemail message that I didn’t leave because I’m not a sweet girl, nor yours
Not the hazel remnant of someone landing on the moon
The very first time
Ronald Reagan was robbed
Missed telephone calls

I miss you, on repeat

Poem: Sent from heaven

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Poem: Sent from heaven

You’ve got me fucked up
(You’re no one in particular)
I’m collapsing in fever dreams
I’m weighed down by the fabric
You could ask me about life and I’ll tell you it’s tragic
I wish I could feel euphoria like he does when he’s manic


We separate in altercations, bruises as big as a nation
You punch me in my throat just to watch me choke
Lillies in the garden in Houston
I saw your missed calls
I was too busy reading about the physics of waterfalls
If the water could wash my sins away I wouldn’t be any different
I wish I could feel euphoria like he does when he’s manic

I love dual-toned pickup trucks cos I love things that are fucked up
I’d write out my speech but I can tell you have had enough
I don’t like to share my thoughts out loud
I color your hair blonde, you stare in the mirror & frown
You hate yourself most when you’re lost in a crowd
I can’t feel myself breathing
I hope to God death is coming now
Please, God
Please

Fiber glass like serene amphetamines
I knew it’d only get worse when I left my iridescent teens
I’d drive on the highway
Close my eyes
Pray they don’t show me on the news
No one would be surprised
Feeling alone is an understatement but it’s my second nature
And I’ll write your worst character flaws down on crisp white paper
I want to be dressed in my favourite gown
God forbid they find me naked
I used to think one day in my twenties, I’d make it

I’m not lost or confused
I am led to think that in this life it is I who is to choose
I make my decisions best on a porch swing
I told you a thousand times to pack your things
If you find yourself in prison I said you know who to ring
And if I picked up would you be upset
Would you damage my ruins because I left
Spent a lot of time apart, me I spent the time in thought
I had reasons to like myself but shortly after I forgot


My best friend isn’t my friend anymore
These things are transient, nothing I’m of more sure
People leave because they’re make-believe
I hid somewhere deep in your treasure chest
Curled up in your father’s grey sweater that you love the best
I’m a soft dove, here I arranged a little nest
Every question I have, you treat like a test
When I took hint of the absence in your brown eyes
I began to admire the curved shape of my thighs
And I could hardly taste the sour sting of your lies
Validation from you is not something I ever looked for
The smooth r&b in this bar makes me realize that was a mistake
But if anybody ever loves me I will feel that it’s fake
I’m sent from heaven but for this world I’m not quite made


I drive down the highway to Texas in the pitch black night with my eyes closed
I don’t have my headlights on
The roads start to spin and I disengage within
I’d make such a beautiful corpse but would my father ever see?

Was living this life meant to be?
In the middle of nowhere is the only place I can speak

God, I love amphetamines
If I’m found and my eyes are rolled back, you know it was meant to be

Hell means nothing to me.


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Poem about love: My John Wayne boy

distantcaveLeave a comment

Poem about love: My John Wayne boy

You said you never feel lonely
I could never get over that

We learned in class about some of your traits
An offbeat tendency to act relentless with your rage
The time capsules get dimmer the more we age
Born awkward and sour
The man finds his power
Resting on golden wings of a tranquil dreamscape
Favourite thing to do is to make pretty girls wait
All the right looks, though never able to relate
Slips through fractures, a constant change in state
How can it be this impossible to communicate
You locked all the doors and I can’t escape

 

With my love, my love
My patience, my love
My network of genes that cast shadows and glimpses
Upon me like several hundred suns
Making sure I am perceptible to the common eye
The idealist way of living
Captured stones and the complications of modern-day decision-making
Moons I don’t know the names of
Wait for the right moment
Wait for it to feel right
I promise I’m only made of immeasurable love
It just doesn’t matter, that’s what I was afraid of

Treating girls like you’re the man himself, John Wayne
Laconic, bashful, wading in the wash
Walking ‘round town like there’s something on your mind
Always looking down but never checking behind
The childlike part of you always so afraid
Couldn’t stop wondering what made a man that way
I got nine-hundred-ninety dollars and I want a new amp
You spent your life dreaming of the things you can’t have
At night your back hurts, no amount of pills for that
You spent your life savings wanting wealth so bad

Always stuck choosing between sweeter or sour

I look at you with fresh eyes
You don’t mirror my gaze
I count your neurotransmitters, tell you which are out of phase
Never tell you the number
I know you’re scared, my boy
I spent years trying to convince you life is for us to enjoy
But I’m just a girl, and you’re just a boy
I’m just a girl, and you’re just a boy
My lingering look unsettles you

Patience is for the people that simply can’t handle it
If you want to start over, you will have to manage it
Before your day trips come full circle, you can’t abandon it
Nobody got love by simply demanding it
I know a thing or two about vinyl & coffee ice cream
I could write an anthology filled with my daydreams
It’s nice on paper when nobody can hear your screams

In the rose garden we were seemingly scared of nothing
I couldn’t get my eyes off the deep green trees
The whole way home
Whatever you’ve got inside, you’ll never show
Those aren’t husband qualities – I know, you know
Have you ever thought of what it could be like to come home

You said you never feel lonely
I could never get over that
Rest your head, go to sleep
Think of love, try to imagine it

You don’t know what to think of
You don’t know what to think of
You don’t know what to think of
You don’t know what to think of

I could write an anthology filled with my daydreams
It’s nice on paper when nobody can hear your screams

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