The things I see, the things I love
Poem: Anarchy is fun; you should try it
I am like Thumbelina
But I don’t quite fit anywhere
Two devout Russian Orthodox women are going to a NATO-ruled country to buy the world’s finest, pristine porcelain to throw it at indoor walls
The best poison was made
In my father’s grave
And I love him for forever hating the country I live in
Love poem: Ivory white, dark pants
Soft shoulder of the exit ramp
Sweet cream silk, ivory white velvet dream
Sitting and smoking with you on the fire escape
We look at the horizon
Our eyes like they’ve been set on fire
Keeping quiet to not create commotion on the 18th floor
Move lightly like a ghost
That haunts me the most
Pure daylight, fresh berries, blueberry soy milkshake for two
Freeze me in the frozen section
I will come back alive
To haunt you like in the horror thrillers they do
My voice gets high-pitched
When I talk to you on the telephone
In the evenings
My voice gets high-pitched
Cos I’m excited when you call me on the telephone
In the evenings
Love poem: Ivory white, dark pants (continued)
Sweet cream silk, ivory white velvet dream
Pour raspberry sauce on vegan soy ice cream
I have you, in a soft yellow light
I wouldn’t find hospitable for my academia
Though, your brown eyes, light up like fresh veins
And I take hold of your upright shoulders
On purpose
By habit
A fragrant
Flower
My doorstep
Your dark pants
Love poem: Ivory white, dark pants (continued)
Sweet cream silk sweater for your ivory white velvet dream
We move like feathers, but our names have been etched into stone
First, middle, and last
First, middle, and last
Holding my breath
Writing on your cast
First, middle, and last
The most perfect fire escape
I’d smoke next to you every day
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Love poem: Fell back in love with myself
I am, a dandelion that’s losing its ligules
A dandelion on the street
Stepped on, on repeat – bracing the wind, but falling apart
Missing my roots
Crying because I won’t be in a vehicle with my father ever again
But the koala-grey sidewalk embraces me like its only friend
Gasping, breaking, compact but fragile – for eternity
Not asking anyone to save me
Because rap songs taught me that’s commonly dismissed
Neglected and disposed of
(Why am I so delicate?)
I breathe it and I love it, but God please help me, I’m exasperated
I wear my orthodox cross like it’s the most expensive diamond given to a queen
Nobody ever suspects a thing
Love poem: Fell back in love with myself (continued)
A guy once bought me, the most beautiful fiddle leaf fig tree
That I picked out, of course
Girl knows her houseplants
My bedroom lacked the sunshine to keep my baby alive
I wept on the floor staring at its fallen brown pieces
Feeling like I was one of them
Breaking for eternity
Shrivelling up and no longer green, but serene
I swallow the ground whole with my desire to love more than I ever have before
Time, and time, again.
You know, a girl, who truly loves flowers
Never “gets used” to receiving them
Each time is special, savoured, like those commercials with women and chocolate
I stop walking every few feet to capture a flower
One day, a boy said to me, “do you have to stop every time”
That was the end of him and I
Of course, I do
That’s what happens when you’re in love with white, pink, red, yellow, and blue
The colours dash through your mind when you’re not scrolling on your phone
Remembering the hydrangeas from Venice Beach
The sunset blooms at the rose garden at the museum where you spent your birthday in your own solid company
Breaking in composite structures
Swallowing the rose petals on the ground
Love poem: Fell back in love with myself (continued)
The dandelions on the street
Say something on repeat
They love me, they live through me
They engulf quite the vast part of me
And every piece of their frail self that flies away with the breeze
Becomes deeply embedded within me
And I love it, like cotton
I roll it, like marbles
If I’m ever, forgotten
I hope botany never is
Love poem: Fell back in love with myself (continued)
I know a girl
That will never “get used” to flowers
So endlessly abundant but single-handedly make this life worth it
They love me, they love me
They live right through me
I walk on the concrete
Looking for myself
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Love poem: Asleep (daylight)
We were watching King of the Hill
And oh my God, I miss your laugh
The gleam in your off-shadow hazel eyes
I want it to come right back
I wish we could go back in time to having everything
That was really all I wanted
You- I will never know, the records you don’t share with company
The places you go when you fall sleep
I wanted, to lay down my study materials
On your teenage-flannel-style twin bed
My God, I miss the whiteboard on your wall
Reading all the strange things you write in your childlike handwriting
I felt reserved over a handful minus one of four nights
Held them damn near so close I would get tongue-tied, just trying to make conversation with a cashier at the grocery store
Behind my eyes, blinking – in time-lapse frames
Your smile like a diamond without that discomforting glare
You were my centrepiece, and I was quiet as a soft stone, and I liked that
Not yet realizing how far-fetched it was of a thought that I could keep you
Where you are
And be there, too
(Just a thought)
Love poem: Asleep (daylight) [continued]
Oh my God, you swallowed me whole
I looked forward to the weekend like I never had in my teenage years
All I ever did back then, was dance around my living room like I had friends
You widened my gaze and we created our own place
Where teenage-flannel for a thirty-something was awfully inviting and I
Never cared or considered that you weren’t romantic
My God, I loved being with you
Like I was of no importance
You took centre stage and you painted me a grave
It looked just like it does in the magazines
You went down, so far down
There was no way to follow you
I would have, if I could have
Was not under the impression that a few bad days would turn into half a decade
Panic attacks because I couldn’t reach down and grab you
Shake you, wake you
Get you out of this rancid, deeply isolating dream
Say something like, hey,
(maybe this is really nothing)
It wouldn’t have helped
Because my wishes were far-fetched
Love poem: Asleep (daylight) [continued]
But to this day, I don’t know if you’ll make it
To be like what you created
When you first said hello to me,
“So, um, who are you?”
So, so, so, so, so in love with you
(Are you kidding me?)
Fresh piece of pastel paint
It’s archaic – the cinema is
I remember, we were watching a movie
I got so scared
You made fun of me with distant disposition and cruelty
In that split second, I developed this pit in my stomach
That you no longer were capable of comforting me
Whatever pulled me towards you in the beginning, was not based on effort
The film was playing, and I felt like crying
Crawled to the kitchen and wanted to crawl out of the window
So terrified of what had become of a bruised reality
Image generated for me using DALL-E by Erik Huerta (@Erikismissing on Instagram)
Love poem: Asleep (daylight) [continued]
Can never get right, on paper
The hypnotic daze that expands in my most cherished memories
“So, um, who are you?”
So attached to that phrase
Teenage-minded girl
Hopeful in a self-defeating mannerism
It leads me to wonder
It keeps me awake
What if it was a dream?
What if it was all fake?
Best Cabernet Sauvignon I’ve ever had in my life
I could have slept for days
We were watching our favourite show
And oh my God, I miss your laugh
Waking up to you, hiding from daylight
Should have ripped off the curtains and made you face it
Love poem: Asleep (daylight) [continued]
Please
Come back
To this life
There is
A girl
Who cares
But I can’t come down
That far
To meet you
Where you sleep
In shallow pools, I still grieve
There is nobody to wake me
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Not a love poem: Swan lake memories
Butterflies flying into me, crashing lightly
You told me my skin was soft, and though I knew it to be true,
I felt in part indebted to you.
Like I couldn’t carve out a space
Large enough to climb into
Show you why your dreams are just make-believe
Not my responsibility to teach anybody anything
Because who do I think I am
Easily tan, have Swan Lake memorized & I do pirouettes in my dining room
I still remember the dress I planned to wear
Continues to hang on the shelf
I don’t look in that specific direction
Not a love poem: Swan lake memories (continued)
Exhausted from doing nothing at all
About how your bad habits look even worse when I look into a microscope
Focusing on school
Highlighting my study materials
No, not you – there, waiting for me,
Opening the door
Letting me cry
Telling me you liked how I felt safe.
I want to hate the trees you like, but there are so many in every place I’ve visited in the last year, and I feel weak when I want to photograph them because they’re so beautiful, and memory plays in time-lapse frames to make me feel sick and dismal with its reminders.
I feel weak anyway
I know the neuroscience of loss, but who I wanted to be I forgot
You make me weak, you made me vulnerable
I loved it and I hated it
I retained it
Delicate like a fine-point pen drawing insects on your arm that isn’t covered in tattoos
I wish I could hate you
Not a love poem: Swan lake memories (continued)
I’ll move like a moth, I think you forgot
The area code that leads to a postcode
That leads to a telephone wire on an absolutely fragrant fire
In the middle of the city, and the chaos causes lawsuits
We like it because we’re in trouble
Playing tag in the backyard of your grandparents’ house
I miss the smell of hydrangeas
That changed colours
When they felt like it, like I do
I feel weak in places I didn’t know were part of me
When I see a tree
That makes me think, he must be there
Sitting pleasantly
Wasting his life without me
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