Tag: beauty poem

Poem: 3 in the morning (God loves you)

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Poem: 3 in the morning (God loves you)

Sometimes at night
I think of you
(I’m lying – I always think of you)
There’s nothing else I’d rather do
It’s the bittersweet sting of being hopelessly enamored with you

The more you want it, the farther away it becomes
You stay up late and say you’ll sleep next to the sun
He says he’s running late, but he never does come
That’s the sad truth about not being the only one
I twirl my hair
I spin around
I choke so hard I fall to the ground
And if you calculated my efforts, I’d pay by the pound
I’m lost in abysmal and undulating surround sound

He put black padding on the walls to keep the voices quiet
Asked me what my favourite wine was and said that he’d buy it
Passed me angel dust, but I said I won’t try it
This time I’m not lying
It hurts more to keep trying
Don’t blame it on timing
If I am dust, you are worn out leather from a cow that loved to live and breathe fresh air
You ran your fingers through my soft, blonde hair
I knew you were unaware
You had me right there
You had me

Boys have short attention spans, so I’m working on making my poems shorter
As if a somber gaze doesn’t scratch at the envelope
As if the disposable cardboard coaster I kept from the bar we went to last year isn’t practically at its wit end
But I stare at it at night and I like to pretend
That you and I will never end
(You spin me round and round, you scream, you bend)
I only liked when you were drinking
Because you never stopped talking
And I could listen to your words for endless summer days

I’m watching my step
I’m too sharp for this town
I reached the vault of heaven, but you pushed me back down
And every time I walk away from you, I turn right back around
You’re the most beautiful thing that I have ever found

And if you want me, please tell me
That’s all that I ask
Because I don’t know how much longer
I can contain this chaotic energy, it’s only a setback
It pays for my grave
Collects debt at the tollbooth
Serves me a clean slate I can’t afford and makes it taste like dry vermouth
A botanical celestial atmosphere where there was you and I appeared and you said come here, baby girl, my doe-eyed dear
Please, my angel, don’t you ever disappear

I say never
Won’t do it
I’ll always be here

But you’re so distant from me that my words sound unclear
And the walls are blurry and they’re bleeding red
And I bought pink satin sheets for my queen-sized bed
And I wait every night for you to come fall sleep
But if your love cuts my skin, it doesn’t go very deep
If your flaws were secrets, they’d be mine to keep
And I replay your laugh in my mind on fucking repeat

I know only one thing that’ll make me complete
But if it’s me against her, I’m too weak to compete
I am a glacier dissolving in sunburns and aggressive summer heat
But I still thank God because he arranged for us to meet
I know it as much as I love the window seat
But I see you and her, so I make a spreadsheet
Of all the ways this is going to kill me
Please stop, only you can heal me
I need you like candy
I crave all of you
I know that my hopes are too good to be true
So I lay on the concrete, I only see in ocean-blue

I scream at God for letting me fall in love with you
It’s 3 in the morning
There’s nothing else to do

© Elle Silvestrov

I only liked when you were drinking
Because you never stopped talking
And I could listen to your words for endless summer days

Poem: 3 in the morning (God loves you)

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Poem: My boyfriends are always musicians

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Poem: My boyfriends are always musicians

I want another musician boyfriend
In the wind, in the mountains that fumble over each other
Like blue ice cream, and you’re drinking the most sour lemonade
I remember being in the fifth grade
I remember when you and I were on the same page

You tell me I’m pretty
I say, let’s get out of this city
I want the thrill and the madness
Chicago winters when I was the baddest
And I kept thinking, I have this
I kept thinking, I have this
I kept-

I have nothing to talk about now that he stopped talking to himself
Turned the act around, got out of town
And he was gone like that
I wish I could say it was in the summer, but he said that he still loved her
And my aloe vera plant died like three times that week

My best friend thinks I’m weak
I can tell because I think she’s too afraid of getting closer to me
Which as a walking human charade I can see where there’s disinterest in the grand scheme of things
I knew it was in the library that I lost my opal ring
That was the day Rachel wore that blue shirt
She looked so good that it hurt
I’ve thought of every way this could go, and I’m just out of step
So if you asked me what I need, I’d say it’s out of my grasp
But I’m pretty on the inside
I don’t collapse like that
I run, and I fetch, but I don’t bring it back
I only execute what is carefully planned
I miss the warm days of playing around in the sand
I miss when you wrote songs about me with your little boy band
I miss you reaching for my hand

And if you asked me if I would use pretense to get to where I want to be
I would take that high jump
I would be out there too

But there are things to think forth to, like Russia and France
No last line
No valentine
No hopes this time

I’m renovating my life into something brand new
It’s the only thing that’ll motivate you
To depart from this sick, sad, bleached residue
All I think about is you
All I think about is you
All I think about is you
All I think about is you

Remember, standing on the balcony
Drinking Mountain Dew
I never considered falling out of love with you
They said when you break up, it’s just something you do

I must be screwed up beyond repair
He was having an affair
And all I could do was stare

It was almost like she was here, and I was there

No last line
No valentine
No hopes this time

All I think about is you
All I think about is you
All I think about is you
All I think about is you
And all I could do was stare

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Poem: Mid-18th century French (intoxicating you)

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Poem: Mid-18th century French (intoxicating you)

I’m baby blueprint in grid print intoxicating you
I’m the Fourth of July, 3 summers ago when we got high
We asked when did we stop having the times of our lives

My neck is so hurt, it’s too much for me to look down
But I always do
Redirect to separate avenues
Skateboard to my house, I’ll come out for you
Green apple lollipop, sour
Teach me your tricks and make it rain for a half-hour
Just enough to get the grill hot
Just enough to get me to take the most bone-chilling cold shower
I’m coming in hot
But I always leave so cold
In the cab I sit there- forlorn, morose, staring at the floor
Letting the kids run by and do what they’re told
I reminisce about the days when to be elegant wasn’t to be bold, and I coughed like raindrops like saran-wrap covering old left-overs
If it rains it pours, well you’re leaving – I’m sure
You always thought your music taste was so obscure
If it rains, it pours
Well, you’re leaving – I’m sure

I’m melting into hydrocodone bitartrate so crystallized you’d sell me for my Chemistry degree and put my name on your white t-shirts
Spray mist on your face until you’re reimbursed
Like daggers, how smooth you are when fatalities aren’t your responsibility, and you make your way down to the ferry where the starfishes know your name and keep it a secret
Nobody cares anyway

I’m coming in hot
But I always leave so cold

It’s too much for me to look down
But I always do
Reaching separate avenues

I said, life is a gamble
But I’m covering my face with my hands
My life is in shambles!
Can someone help me escape from this nonchalant misery I’ve so gracefully pretended is how to live a life?
I don’t make sense to anyone
I’m always deleting phone numbers
Past lovers
The smothered
The weak and the downtrodden, England in the shade
Four in the afternoon
Crisp, deafening cave
When you and I were little, we loved to misbehave
But now the landlord is asking for payments for our graves
And it’s mid-18th century French and it means
“Go fuck yourself”

Somber
Oppressively sober in mood
He looked at her with this decadent tone that I’d almost call smooth
If it wasn’t for the violence we heard up the street
The night skies were starless
I fell asleep regardless
I just wanted to escape for a week or two
I never knew my nightmares would come true
I liked the dark and the dull in colour but honey, what happened to you?
What’d they do to you?
What are you so scared of?
Why do you still try to write songs out of my poetry?
Why do you recycle and reread my emails?
Why do you send me false compliments in the mail?
Why’d you hire an attorney when you’d likely be better off in jail?
I don’t particularly adapt to being hated
I just deal
Fifty-dollar bill
I have a white dress that makes me look like a ghost and I thought I met a new boy that would love me the most
But he’s slipping out of my fingers, of course
Tell me I’m not predictable

Grey daffodils, crisp July skies
I just wanted to escape for a week or two
I never knew my nightmares would come true
It’s November and there’s not much more to expect from the undesirable residue
I just hoped I could sit down and paint you
Make something beautiful
Capture a black button-down shirt

Was it good when it hurt?
I’m stumbling over forgotten words
Insecure (or in great difficulties)
He was miserable without her

All is not lost
There is still some chance of success or recovery
But me, haha, me?
Sometimes when a defeat has been sustained
It’s better for everyone involved that you don’t speak my name

Not that there is much to be ashamed
It’s just
Was it good when it hurt?
I told you over and over,
I’m not a good flirt

I’m not a good flirt

If it rains, it pours
And it’s mid-18th century French and it means
“Go fuck yourself”

Poem: Surface tension (poolside dreams)

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I saw the skinniest girls at the pool today
They were all bone, with graceful flat stomachs
I started to hate myself again
And I considered if
Maybe I was going too far
Maybe they have scars to hide too
But I traced their gentle bodies with my disturbing eyes
And I couldn’t find a somber disguise
Or any evidence that they hate themselves too

Maybe I didn’t look deep enough
What’s on the surface conceals what’s underneath

I toss and turn wildly in my bedsheets
And maybe the spaces of my ribs and the lights in-between
No longer shine, no longer gleam
I look dirty even when I’m entirely clean
I try to smile, but I can’t hold back that I’m so, so mean

They splashed each other while in the water
I knew if I smiled I’d only bother
But maybe they were growing sick of each other
At that point, I’d be a newfound lover
But when it rains it decays what’s left of me
I only feel blissful when I’m swimming in the sea (I feel like it’s a part of me)
I am opalescent in matters of blue
Your favourite shades of Hunter green
Writing poetry with a ruptured spleen
I miss being a fragile and innocent young teen
Didn’t stop you from touching me

Didn’t stop you from touching me
You claimed that you were teaching me
But my skin turned dark like you were leaching me
I’d have the strongest, most bizarre of nightmares
Wake up sweating, alone, and scared
A modest, timid girl
Too small to be bared
You dragged my body up the crystallized stairs

What’s on the surface conceals what’s underneath
When the gun started firing, the bed I hid beneath
Is it always as rosy as the daydream makes it seem?
My God, being dead sounds so fucking serene

My God, being dead sounds so fucking serene

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Nothing beautiful ever lasts

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Nothing beautiful ever lasts

(venom like frostbite on a Sunday morning)


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My gal pal and I were feeling the hot July mist as we dipped our carefully painted toes in the pool
Swaying our arms to make waves like hurricanes
Flowers blossomed
My best friend
She jokingly said that I’m holding out on love
Not letting anybody too close
Painful reminders of past ghosts
Motorcycles, some of those
I said I’m living like I’m practically comatose
I wake up, open the shades, want to close them back again and fall into a slumber so deep my manager starts calling since I didn’t show up for work
It’s just too much work
And I’m impatient
Stagnant in some ways
Although I am crisp, I say that in a daze
The sky turns ablaze
Hot fire surrounds us

She’s crying and her mascara drips down her rose cheeks
I don’t know what I did
But it’s always me doing something
I remind people of their painful pasts
I refresh their memory that nothing beautiful ever lasts
I put one in mind of the fact that every little time you think something’s good, something’s right
It never is
Your worries become his
And that’s hard to dismiss

I’m not evil
I think I’m not
But the last guy said he hopes my body will rot
I thought it was kind of funny, which sent him in shock
I told him again and again that I’m not quite his flavor
The poor boy, I was doing him a favor!
The January wind came to whisk me away
He locked the door, practically begged me to stay
But it wasn’t hard to walk away (search for new prey)
I’m like a ship that’s too in love with the waves
Goes the wrong way for days
Doesn’t realize there’s a dock waiting, that you don’t have to escape
My vision turns gold and then grey
Nothing beautiful stays
So I celebrate the decay
Am I better off that way?

Morning dew is my favourite
When roses blossom, I’m in heaven
I remember being young, timid, and seven
Pushing my fingers directly into thorns
Gave me a rush that went straight to my bones
I was so little! A young mind so awake
Until I started bleeding and I’d start to shake
Some people are poison, like the tinctures I make
I’m fake I’m fake I’m fake

For God’s sake (my sake and yours) 
Pass me a cider
White roses when you greet me
Try to make me smile
Soon we’ll be dead and no longer will you see me

So I celebrate the decay
Am I better off that way?



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