Tag: blue aesthetic

Poem: Sitting by the fire (happy birthday)

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Poem: Sitting by the fire (happy birthday)

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

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Poem: Pigeon-blue and staining through

distantcaveLeave a comment

Poem: Pigeon-blue and staining through

I cut the chrysanthemum flowers, and you ruffle through my drawers
Pigeon blue and staining through
You cut your losses
Roll over onto the pink duvet cover
You look beautiful on my bed
Like you just got out of the shower
Like you’ll finally let me hold you
Sweet dreams for a nap
You can have it like that
Autumn is approaching soon, and your eyes are sparkling brown
I’m going to find their distinct shade in the leaves of the fall
Up to heaven’s gate, we can have it all
I think you have somebody to call

Evenings
Frostbite
The way we fight
Like water holding the boat afloat
Like your friends and everyone else you know
Stay here in the shade with rare sun rays reaching your chest and shedding light
You need something bright
Something that fits you
To keep up with your wild attention span
That pays itself its dues

You, my boy that lies beside me
Neutral palette, got it down
I love when you take me around town
It’s nice when the evenings come around

Your loss

Poem: Noise

distantcaveLeave a comment

Poem: Noise

If you couldn’t tell
If you couldn’t tell
If you couldn’t tell

I’m spinning around like I’m in the dryer at a laundromat
The ladies and gentlemen walk by
They don’t check up on me like that
Now I don’t even remember how
To get you to react
It seems like my silence
Is doing enough for the pact

Poem: Noise (continued)

Now how come you can’t tell
How come you can’t tell

That one of my favourite artists dropped an album
All I really thought about was you
Listening to each track on the record
Thinking of you punching your fist through the wall
That we had just painted
And me, jaw on the floor
Incredibly amazed at
What I had created

Poem: Noise (continued)

If you couldn’t tell
Now how come you couldn’t tell

I’d go sit at your desk, like a little doll
Spin around in circles in your armchair
Feeling faint
And small
You liked calling me that
Made you feel something too
I think it should be the other way,
But I feel so indebted to you

Poem: Noise (continued)

Now how come I couldn’t tell
How come I couldn’t see
Everything that we did
Had really nothing to do with me
Now how come I couldn’t tell
How come I couldn’t feel
Everything that we did
None of it was very real

None of it was very real
To begin with
Just
Noise

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

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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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Not a love poem: Swan lake memories

distantcaveLeave a comment

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

A poem that is not a love poem because it doesn't have a happy ending, or an ending at all.

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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