Tag: aesthetic poetry

Poem: Haunted

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Poem: Haunted

I step outside
Of the curtain lining
To tell you the truth
But you’ve already gone to work

I step outside
To my midsummer garden
Cos it’s all about myself
In my own little world

And in my opinion, it wasn’t meant to be
I see it in the palms of my hands
See it in the trees
But looking at past daydreams
I so wanted it to be
A universe where things could work out for me (playing the victim?)

Poem: Haunted (continued)

In the grand scheme of things
They’re always listening
Don’t pay much attention to it cos I spend my days dreaming
Future apartments with bay windows
New acrylic nail salons
Runs with my dog on Lake Shore Drive

You could have just told me
Though you did in your own way
I made sure to
Curl up in a blanket
I didn’t cry at first
But then the weekend came
I was tangled and interwoven into you and me again

You should have just
Taken it out on me
You should’ve just –
You should’ve just –
But you stopped yourself.
I don’t get how
You didn’t take it out on me
You should’ve –
You should’ve –
But you stopped yourself.

Poem: Haunted (continued)

In an arboretum I found truly my favourite flowers
Next few hours, you grew so bored, I thought you would fall straight into your hands
The thorns from the castle drains would
Stop to tell you that
This wasn’t exactly
Part of her plan.
I grew quite timid
Wasn’t born to be an alarm clock
So I let you sleep the next day while I did my own thing
The thing was, it was my birthday
And anyone knows that can have meaning
So it isn’t worth the frame-worked lawsuit
The heavy weight in my mind

You shouldn’t have
Taken it out on me
I thought we were different people
Living new lives, so it seemed.
You shouldn’t have chosen
To take it out on me
I thought we had become new
In the grand scheme of things.

Poem: Haunted (continued)

Fortune surrounds you
So I’m in a blanket
Wishing you well in skyscraper heaven.
If you turned around,
To retrieve your belongings –

My apartment would be empty,
But it would still be haunted.

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Poem: Ant colony (birthday balloons)

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Poem: Ant colony (birthday balloons)

Nuclear envelopes
A testable hypothesis
Will you still love me if I –
Will you drown me out
Like the noise in a soundproof room
He always said he’d like to go to solitary confinement just to get away
For a honeymoon

Light leaks
Asparagine and leucine
Convoluted sighs and my pink floor-length satin dress
Eating three times on Mondays,
Eating four times, the day after
Consuming enough carbohydrates to be like a plant
A prisoner in your gardener
A wide-awake blooming orchid
Couch that fell from a truck bed onto the motorway
We could just make it ours
Watch the fires and fireflies swarm in the distance
Devouring apricots
A routine for my bedtime

Poem: Ant colony (birthday balloons) [continued]

Letting go of lethargic tendencies
But I don’t have the energy
I’m miserable, with or without you
Have to be the writer of my own memoir, the heroine in my own maladaptive daydreams
That serve me quite well
Like soft serve by the beach
Made from plant-based oat milk & Oreos
I’ll let the sea and the sun and the sky devour me, so I can merge with the ants and
Worry only about my colony
What a dream it’s becoming

Empty head
Empty thoughts
Your Percocet
My writer’s block
I’ve been too, afraid, to put this down on paper
A typewriter with no keys
Hands that swell
Knees that bleed
I know perfectly well
That I’m who you need
Will you be there for me, in the daylight and the evenings?
My handsome prince
Tread carefully
I’m exactly who I aspire to be

Poem: Ant colony (birthday balloons) [continued]

I believe in myself, most of all
Though, the cognitive dissonance gets swept like ashes
At a fireplace
Melting, blurring a reality that you swore was three-dimensional
You vase of a porcelain starlit galaxy
You atmospheric void, claustrophobic from your own apprehension
I’m so in love with every part of you
Especially the pieces you really disdain

I’ll take them in my hands
Like the softest of sand

Poem: Ant colony (birthday balloons) [continued]

I don’t know what to do with all these birthday balloons
The vinyl you bought me, thank you, by the way
You precious thing.
And the things I have to move on from
Tangled in grief-ridden spiderwebs
Merging through lanes with my blinker forever on
I follow all the laws
When the crows are watching, carefully

I’ll let the sea and the sun and the sky devour me, so I can merge with the ants and
Worry only about my colony
What a dream it’s becoming

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Love poem: If you could, just, sing to me

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Love poem: If you could, just, sing to me

My day in the blistering sunshine
I wish your hand was latched onto mine
Except when you held it too tight, it hurt, and I said nothing because I was engulfed in the ivory, acrylic paint of the walls
I wish you could soothe me like you do your male friends

I got, rather presumptive
I thought we could make it work because it felt so worth it
Like the tides would change & our circumstances wouldn’t get the best of us
When I fell into old subservient patterns,
That I thought I wouldn’t
I said, screw it
We could work through it
But the tables that turned against me had thorns
My blood wasn’t well & I was increasingly worn
Down by the extent of which, I wanted it to work
A violent but quiet discomposure

Love poem: If you could, just, sing to me (continued)

Down by the bayside
I’ll never forget when an acoustic version of a song I loved in middle school (still do) came on
You threw your head back and sang so softly
I found it mildly alarming how awfully charming
And crisply ambient the evening felt right then and there
My eyes started to tear, and I wiped them real fast
I thought if it could be like this, we’d be golden
Nothing to take & everything to give
That is the drawback to my diplomacy
It doesn’t quite work out for me

Now I’m basking in the feverish sunshine
Hearing the lyrics in my mind
How true they conform to the set of conditions that unveiled my gentle but muted position
I wanted all of it to feel just like that
Right then and there, I was far too aware
That you are a beautiful human being only when you get what you want

Love poem: If you could, just, sing to me (continued)

But I can’t always play the right song
And moments in passing affect my brain far too strong
I latch on

If we could have just stayed at that stop light forever
We would’ve made it work
If you could have sang lullabies to lull me to sleep
We still couldn’t have made it work

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Poem: Four thoughts (Chicago dandelions)

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Poem: Four thoughts (Chicago dandelions)

Rose petals with lime in my hot coffee
Author’s alterations, metasomatism beneath my bedsheets
Making changes to my will because I will outlive my instruments & garments
I’m the most proper fit, and I laugh to myself
Because nobody else thinks it to be true
Playing in the garden all night long

If you’re made of arachidonic acid, you’re still not essential to me
Accelerated depreciation is like using plastic
So casual for you
The cavity where I reside is not accepting visitation
Though you can leave the fleurs and baguettes at the doorstep
Can I be a princess for once, please?
Can someone naturally want to take care of me?

Poem: Four thoughts (Chicago dandelions) [continued]

My abdomen is covered in spears
I don’t know where they came from
He found it addicting, and I chose not to feel bad, because I settled for a freedom that involved both him and me
I’m stored in the nacelle, and you’re a half-decent engineer
Who works so much he loses sight of
The real thing
When it’s engaging in self-piercing
Damaging increments
Fingernails painted dusty pink

I feel a permanent wholesome vacancy
A vacant office
A vacant smile
A vacant estate
A vacant room
A vacant seat on a bus
A vacant throne
A disengaged observer
Sometimes I wish you would just look at me
Stare at me so I would feel like I was really living, here.

Poem: Four thoughts (Chicago dandelions) [continued]

An abandoned factory
An abandoned field
An abandoned vehicle
An abandoned baby
I was left to fall into a state of disuse
And then I had to pick myself up
Here we are, I’m staring at Chicago on the plane’s seat live screen map, and I want to cry, because it’s screaming out at me

“You need to get rid of everything so that I can consume you in full”
Nobody can love you so much to the point that you can’t leave
This is everything and all that you want
To the point where a low-quality live map brings tears to my turning-dark-green eyes
Straightforward without reserve, my advocacy for my well-being
Openhearted and honest with my eternal sin
That I’m falling more and more in love with

I want what’s favorable
I accept what makes me want to sink, not just mine, but all of the ships
Things highly unpleasant to me are advantageous to the attitude I want to cultivate
Impartial to how we couldn’t quite relate

Poem: Four thoughts (Chicago dandelions) [continued]

I’ve got dandelions in my hair
The right guy won’t blow my wishes out
A commendatory view of my well-calculated decision and unruly spirit

I appreciate it all
The astronomical pitfalls
Everything is beautiful to me
If it wasn’t, I would not have stayed around here

Poem: Four thoughts (Chicago dandelions) [continued]

Sweet and angelic of you, a stranger said
Looked at me with the admiration the last few lacked
In a Duty Free store

I learned to be safe in my own skin
Complimentary to my own skeleton
Dandelions in my hair
The right guy won’t blow my wishes out

She was always four thoughts ahead of everyone else

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Not a love poem: Olive tree (take your pick)

distantcaveLeave a comment

Not a love poem: Olive tree (take your pick)

I think we’re
Not getting too wrapped up
I’ll get up soon
To turn the microwave off

I think we’re
Naturally not too wrapped up
I’ll get up later
To turn the microwave off

I scratched my leg violently on rose thorns
As if I would ever mind
It’s been a long time since
Brown eyes, green eyes
I hate when they turn hazel
Like an olive tree
Park my car on Chestnut avenue
It’s a longer walk but
I like the name
Burn it to see embers
Collect street signs
All the rose thorns in the world are allowed to scratch me
In fact, I’ll invite them with bliss
Using long, Bambi eyelashes

Not a love poem: Olive tree (take your pick) [continued]

I think you would be
Friends with the quarterback
I never cared about football
We could make fun of
The way they drop the ball
(Again!)
Wearing their jerseys’ cos we like the material
So supportive
What a team effort
I clench my hands together because otherwise I think I’m going to lose my mind

I never really understood the concept of romance
Is it you buying me a vegan strawberry milkshake?
Dirt on my face at the park and you think I look pretty?
I have thousands of songs I’ve been dying to share
With somebody
They mean
Too much to me
To share, though
So I’ll
Keep them to myself
Out of bad habit
I’m the bad habit

Not a love poem: Olive tree (take your pick)[continued]

Show up late and get there just on time
I wouldn’t get through security clearance with that
Type of ambivalence I could
Make a rosebud dream
Of grabbing me from the interior and
Turning me inside out
So the world could know
I wouldn’t get through security clearance like this

Not a love poem: Olive tree (take your pick) [continued]

What’s that?
Is that romance
You getting me a vegan strawberry milkshake?
That I put in the fridge
To enjoy my second half the very next day
Laughing to myself
Sharp edges soften
My shampoo smells lovely
I can’t get through security clearance like this

An olive tree
Okay, I’ll be an olive tree
If you pick me
Okay,
I’ll be an olive tree
If you choose me

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