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
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
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
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
Arched back, my universe A mint sage green to invigorate me since I’m so, Tired of the way things have been going Parts of me I loved, not really showing Vintage glamour too much of an effort; I’m sinking down I know that I swim very well, so it’s not sensible to drown But I have this one thought I want to get rid of That maybe it’s peaceful down there I know I can bring to this valley some flowers But what if the prettiest ones are underground I’m scared of this one thought I pretend not to have That maybe I can take something and finally find out I’m scared of this one thought I have
I simultaneously do and don’t want to be Wondering if people in other vehicles on the freeway can see me crying. The depth of the city Pale bloom mid-toned grey, avalanche of a highway Miles per hour in the hundreds – this is my place It’s my crisp green apple So why am I disconsolate in lowercase Feeding into a winter sunrise that falls on me like a torrential downpour
Poem, continued: In real time (vast chasm)
Your brown eyes, they see something in me Oh, I believe it But I know I need to see something too I’m scared of this one thought I have That perhaps this book is becoming too long I have all these notebooks I’ve never written in I have all these contacts That I just delete The sun hits me hard and the skies wake me up, but the noise is like tar and I do love the black But the panic attacks The heirloom pink that fades so fast When I eventually fall asleep Time and space not linked, so casually on the brink Of falling in
Poem, continued: In real time (vast chasm)
Don’t want to be someone That is too tired to make their own cup of Coffee Don’t feel I need someone Halfway think I don’t deserve it It feels so unconventional but on-purpose Like a car that refuses to accept gasoline
I have a fence That grows taller around me I spin in circles But not to break free If someone saw this They’d conclude I was insane But I am clearing cobwebs From my own brain
Poem, continued: In real time (vast chasm)
Arched back, my universe Anabolism and violent television shows that I don’t watch Avoiding mass speculation and trembling violations My white chair that faces two separate vases of flowers I love it here And I can’t bare to hate anything at all
Except being Unable To make A cup of coffee In real time
I am surprised That I Can write
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