West Dale Palms boulevard Clover avenue I go to the grocery store And I run right into you Ask me how things are back home Do your days ever feel terribly long I say, I have to go Think I know the place where I belong
Hollywood, Los Angeles at dusk Her perfume smelled like camellias that bloom in November They look just like roses, so naturally I’m obsessed Swing the door open to a settled fire, Capture in my hands: tiny, soft embers Collapsing into moonlight, but Cradled like dust I’ll be strong for both of us If I must
Love poem: Grocery store [continued]
You have to feed your nostalgia sometimes It’s really the only way that you’ll survive It’s how you keep the dreams alive It’s the only way they’ll see you on the other side
West Dale Palms boulevard Clover avenue When I go to the grocery store I always look for you
You know, we grew up with nothing I found such obscurities so luxurious My life was so simple Eerily simple Because every wrong turn meant More chaos Bewilderment Not the delicate kind But fine for my patient mind
Driving a lifted pickup truck has changed who I am It made me more myself than I ever knew before. I’ve become real acquainted with different types of screwdrivers. And I remember when my daddy would hot-wire all the cars on the street That didn’t stop him from feeling absolutely everything Cross necklace on my clavicle to remind me of what that means to me
Poem: Sitting by the fire (happy birthday) [continued]
As the sun was setting after I exited the nail salon, I saw four separate chemtrails moving in cable-thin directions, Combusting as a whole constellation. I’m in love with my dark, dark, dark green eyes
Drove down Venice Boulevard, and it reminded me of being thirteen, When everyone my age made fun of me, but my father insisted that I was a queen And that to me held much more meaning
Trying to buy sour patch at the liquor store, but they’d kicked me out cause I didn’t have Proper identification Now I find myself in my new life and I’m feeling so Impatient. Because this life isn’t going as planned and I have to switch gears I’ll tell you all about it, But each passing day I find myself facing new fears. For you And myself, too! Because that’s what I do.
Poem: Sitting by the fire (happy birthday) [continued]
Curled up in a blanket, Watching television and drinking tea While upper-class people go on holiday, I just be where I be.
I’ve got a smile so warm we don’t need a fireplace
& I miss the long summer days Biking throughout our small town My dad beside me, laughing, as I swam against the Current of the waves Making sure I didn’t drown I know it in my being that he is still around Like the lights descending from the helicopter When I’m taking photographs of downtown
Poem: Sitting by the fire (happy birthday) [continued]
I miss quiet times with tea Ukrainian pears that are overwhelmingly sweet And if you get close to me, You’ll have to bear with me Because I see beauty in absolutely everything.
Like a rocket ship constructed out of Legos, I’ll be there if anything were to break The vibrant sunlight hitting my retinas while I’m driving, I’ve fully realized this is my life to make.
I don’t take for granted That people don’t offer second chances But I’m forgiving like an animal that knows you didn’t mean it
Poem: Sitting by the fire (happy birthday) [continued]
And I mean it
I love Absolutely Everything The fiber of my being The freedom inherent in walking Around a small town that was yours and now it’s become
A breeding ground for memories That I will never let go.
Happy birthday, dad You were so warm we didn’t need a Fireplace
I want him to love me for my bad reputation Lilacs and daisies, And we don’t even have to have those kinds of conversations. Like who do you think you are all the time misbehaving? But I’m just a little doll in a lace dress, Can’t you see how much joy I’ve been faking?
My garden is so pretty My kitchen is pristine New tiles on the bathroom floor to feel Victorian, And I know that my cursive is quite Gregorian. You vomit all over my love letters because it’s too much for you. And maybe that’s why we’re not so–
Made for each other, Perfect synchronous lovers. I’m embarrassed to say I think about it every day. Do you think you want more from me? I’m already overflowing- a coffee cup that forms bubbles and bleeds I want you to buy me flowers most of all And I worry this is the only thing I ever think about And do I worry that I’m not enough for you?
Poem: Baddd girlfrienddd (continued)
All the opposite, Your grey hairs in such ethereal hues I think I’m way too much for you. A silver plate and French dessert, picking off the residue, I swear, in another lifetime, I was also deeply in love with you
But I am a crazy girl, I am truly wild. Everywhere that I go, they collect some kind of files They say the weirdest things about me, and it’s never made sense. I wanted to be the most trustworthy person, But I’m not very good at making friends.
And this makes me sad. And I want you to help me not feel bad. But if that’s too much for you, Then that makes my suspicions true.
Poem: Baddd girlfrienddd (continued)
I am so used to being too much, But never enough Never enough. I am so used to being far too much, But never enough Never enough.
My hair is gently tied with a beautiful pink ribbon He thinks that I did things that I didn’t. I’ve always wanted to be someone that people could trust But if I cleaned a window, He would still just see arachnids and dust
And that was a bad line; I’m not a very good poet. It’s one of my insecurities, Though I hope I don’t show it. But this is a mess, The fabric between our asymmetrical beds. I don’t even know where I feel the best laying my head. I have duvet covers in different area codes and these apartments that don’t even belong to me But I wanna belong to somebody And I want them to take care of me. And I want them to not be so scared of me.
Poem: Baddd girlfrienddd (continued)
So now I’m crying on the freeway, writing this using voice-to-text And I think I’m beautiful, but well aware that he’ll forget And I wanna be taken care of properly, like my dad would admire And I want to be given flowers, like my mother would appreciate
But I am the common denominator, The problem at hand. And I just want somebody who can understand That I wanna be trustworthy to the point where you believe I didn’t do it So, if I set this place on fire, Are you gonna give me a hard time about it? Or try your best to see me get through it
Poem: Baddd girlfrienddd (continued)
Watch me Dancing Laughing Crying Soaking Rainfall Open Windshield Broken I fell in love with you three times I sat and sobbed in the shower, thirty-nine
Or are you going to laugh with me? Because it is inherently funny That we carved this life together
I’m aware I appear as a rotten tomato that ruins the rest of the vine, But someday someone will trust that I’m good on the inside
Sometimes I look at, my flowers that have died And I find them more beautiful than when they were alive.
Last year, my family got the most beautiful, dark-green noble fir Christmas tree we ever had In a pop-up parking lot full of his friends I personally found him more appealing before he was decorated Then I cut 6 inches off my hair No more split ends
Love poem: Sweetness in February (continued)
Somebody stole our Christmas ornaments from the car The little cute animals my mother and I laughed about when we saw them in a store forever ago I hope they felt happy in their new home, Wherever they ended up, I just hope they weren’t disposed.
Some people – you start to feel disposable to them, Like the sweetness you carry doesn’t bear any weight, Like it means nothing that whatever stories they tell you, will never be shared with a single soul Not used as small talk to break the ice Never told at “parties” That I imagine I’d be attending with my future lover because other people have families & other people have friends & other people have obligations & events Birthdays to attend & other people might wonder why I’m not there, and I want to be more than polite for I’m awfully curious About that sort of life. I pretend I’m not but, I really am.
Love poem: Sweetness in February (continued)
I didn’t want you for your money or what you promised me I was just so calm when I would laugh with you You introduced me to emojis Now I use them constantly You’re well aware I love cuteness I know you favour my modesty Something got in our way You may not want to admit it was from both sides I never knew you that well Though of course I still cried
Come to my front gate Wait in front of your car I’ll wear the outfit I picked out At the very start
Come to my front gate To see me, now I’ll wear full-on sweats So you have nothing to think about
Love poem: Sweetness in February (continued)
But I know you a little more than I think I do Who knows if I’ll ever find out if that’s true I know you a tiny bit more than you think you do Who knows if you’ll ever understand that it’s true
Sometimes I look at, my flowers that have died And I find them more beautiful than when they were alive.
I own, perform maintenance on, and of course write all of my poetry by myself – and any amount could really help keep the dream alive! https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/lilacdoveCA
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