Tag: book

Love poem: Pink cashmere daydream

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Love poem: Pink cashmere daydream

A penchant for swimming in rivers too deep to be my abyss
In fragile momentum, I find
Apricots
And shades of silver lightning
Collapsing interwoven honeyed harmonies that indicate a linear adoration
Cut like a crisp stone scattered in orchestration but ruined by damage
That seeped up when I went to sleep and I found that to be the last drawback
I sailed too fast
I redact my last remark
I kissed you too fast
Didn’t know where to start
So I plunged so far ahead of time I thought I almost lost you but
In your pink cashmere sweater you said I was better
Than all the last ones combined
And I laughed
Softly
Globally
Hopefully

Alone in the car, I stared at the floor
The bitter horror found me gazing at whatever was familiar
I took the cobblestone and I built a new throne
But it felt so empty sitting there all alone
You know the name of every anatomical bone
And your collarbone is like morning ballet on a fresh Sunday, holding white roses for performers
Putting your arm around me
Chemicals of amphetamine
Pink cashmere daydream

Holier than heavy black tar
That we cleaned like available vacuums at a self car wash
Dispensable
Agreeable
A comfort to the chaos
A detachment so surreal
You kept moving my long blonde hair because it covered my eyes
And that
Bothered you
Slightly
I’m too shy to figure out why
I wouldn’t dare say you wanted to
See me
In the wild
Winter storms for cars that have poor engines
Screwed up transmission
To be by your side at a fireplace
That’s Sunday for the moon to bear witness
That Sunday when we drank tea and
Truly engaged, we
Smiled for long periods of time
As the world passed us by,

I looked across the field and I saw what you meant about how the haze seems so foggy
So transgressed
You find clouded cataracts in vast open skies
You find evening channels on the television
Your visor doesn’t fit you
My baseball caps need to be adjusted
We split caramel lollipops into two and talk about all the things we’re planning to do
I believe in you
I truly believe in you

The gas station where your face becomes rosy-pink because I paid you a compliment
Or three
You’re blushing
It’s charming
And yet so disarming
Because I’m just a girl and I don’t know what I’m doing
And you
So self-assured
So on path, so on-course
Layered within your default settings of adjustment tendencies
I’m small
So small
Like a stone
In water
Always underwater
Always plunging down
Always in sheer phosphorescent shadows of blue
And I make my way to you
And you tell me to go pay the cashier
I read your last name on your credit card
Not once
But twice

I make my way
Back to the station wagon with your favourite chips
And Mountain Dew
Good with navigation
Reads maps for the sheer delight of it
The fruits of our labor
Rear mirror directed towards you for you to put light pink lip gloss on
Like a Princess
Like a fairy tale
Like diamonds
Like matcha green tea lattes that you pay for out of sheer hospitality
Because you’re older

Because you’re older
Getting rosy-pink cheeks
I said you were sweet
You’re playing the song I have a tattoo of on my thigh on repeat
Because you’re so sweet
Because you’re older
Because your cheeks are rosy-pink

Can’t miss a single second
I try not to blink
Don’t want to miss a single thing
I try not to blink

Because you’re older
Because you’re so sweet
Because your cheeks are rosy-pink

I try not to blink

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Poem: Growing up (I’m a grown-up)

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Poem: Growing up (I’m a grown-up)

I wanted to be all grown up
I wanted to be all –

In the summertime, I’m ravished by a thousand medallions
Fragrances of June feathers and soft remembrances
Sparkling streamers commemorating my absence from the Heavens
And credit cards saying they’ll spend all their worth on me
All their worth on me
The flowers are wilting just for me
I see you put up walls to cover your misery
You know brick and mortar can’t overpower me

We knew we’d eventually separate into two
Composite values
For which an absolute is not a resolute conception
And my evening dress is
Too sophisticated to mention
An evening made for redemption
I can tell you’re apprehensive
Always having bad days
In your chosen remote location for being pensive
He said I was filled with love, his daffodils only turning up lust
So much that I’ve gathered has turned to dust
And I’m waiting, praying, I don’t combust
Memory’s spears have had enough

In trying times, we cut the lines that separate your horizon from mine
And we’ll get through this, every little moment
Is a chance for us to know what we didn’t before it
I’m afraid but I don’t show it
I have to pay, but to whom do I really owe it?

Next to paradise canyon and the dooming, glooming waterfalls
I look across a thousand strangers’ faces
Crisp and green, tinted-pink eyeballs
I’m made of riches
And I think this itch is
Giving me a headache like when you lie in your bed awake
And you don’t know how much more laughter you can take
You don’t know where Eden’s best diamonds are made
And whether your loss is a loss, or if it’s fate
I chose not to eat my birthday cake
I almost threw up from the bitter taste
You said honey wait, yeah okay, I’ll wait
A thousand streams in my mind for me to paint
I love making you melt, watching you cascade
When is too late, really too late?

I want you crestfallen in an amber honeypot from Hell
I want to bathe in the remaining residual prime numbers from orthodox haven
I want your miscalculations to sound like compliments
Watering my house plants
Completing my silly little routine tasks

Your lies are a chore and your cradle is where you were born and this city is what we will go on to forever mourn
Several traced pathways to the kingdom we couldn’t seize
Drinking strawberry soy ice cream milkshakes
Like how much more is it gonna take
Like how much more time am I throwing away
How many more birthdays to memorize for the sake of remembering dates
I lost my sanity somewhere where I said goodbye
To all the people that died slow deaths begging for me to stay
I made it to the pink, comforting, but swollen cave
And I thought about my biggest mistakes
Days passed as I made my way through the trenches
To find your favourite New York City bench, which is
The place of sentences interlaced back and forth
In a crochet-knit paradise of conventions
Where you were too handsome for me to mention
Any hesitation or break in my thought patterns

Like whether love was all that really mattered
When I’d stay up late, crystal daisy-filled vineyards I would destroy before you rose with the sun
I could have sworn I was coming closer
But I was the only one
And I am the only one
Calling you from this telephone booth
Telling you I think I’m ready to grow up now

Do you have some time to find me now
To figure me out
To spend days with a girl in a blue satin dress
That took several hours getting dressed
Because inherently she thinks she’s a mess
And romance can bring impending stress
When you don’t feel that you are, the portrait of your complete best

Can I come home now
I’ve been alone now
In this telephone booth with a line forming around the corner
And if I were yours, I’d put everything in order
But twice is too much, and you thrive on disorder

I’m all grown up now
Can I come home?

I wanted to be all grown up
I wanted to be all –

Love poem: Fine craftsmanship (prayers)

distantcaveLeave a comment

Love poem: Fine craftsmanship (prayers)

Wild sweet jasmine
To be your
Ruby red grapefruit, in the evenings
I created the end, and I made it into a new beginning
Cowboys on ranches far away
White carnations
Love letters – February through May
The bitter ruins of my golden but soft decay
My work is my turmoil, my kingdom is where I’ve come home to play
Twirl my hair around thorns, like the ocean
Softly sway
Hips in the distance
Grey fossils, treasured finds
A new day, a fresh surprise
My loving green eyes

Tan corduroy jacket
Your bitter resentment
Hollow times with crisp features
A medieval castle for which the chambers held me too tightly
At an uneven slant
A rug on the floor of rather ravishing woodwork
Fine craftsmanship
Estranged notices
French boutiques
Dolls, eerily
Arranged
In singular form
Entranced forever
When you say your prayers, who are you saying them to
Do you believe they can hear you?

John Wayne’s face engraved on a keychain I bought in a tiny town in Texas
The boys were awfully nice
They said the funniest things
I could imagine, I could imagine
Turning suddenly
Away from the shore
Hardly ever get bored
Always waiting for more
Deftones on megaphones
White leather cowboy boots, whatever fashion means to you
It means nothing to me; I’m so at peace in the wild country
I want to be smothered in everything
I want the most handsome boy in the entire world to come marry me

A sticker peeling off a cup, washed one too many times
I saw what you wrote in your letter
I thought you hinted at
Despondency
It was transparent
So fluid I almost didn’t have to read between the margins
You held your gaze low
I knew what you were about
I can ache but I can hardly shout
Not a day goes by where I don’t rearrange my doubts
And I may mean little to you, but that’s something to think about
The violent vehemence of what this rendition says in whispers to you, me
My small town
My spam risk
My desolate, brisk characteristics like islets of weakness and Beethoven
Beaming down the hallway
Fresh-faced, rosy
She’s so pretty, she’s so pretty, she’s so graceful & pretty
Mid-16th century dream queen

Am I reminiscent of anything that bores you to death
Amphitheaters of despair
Hold me
Unfold me
Run wild with me

Be forever unafraid with me

Who do you say your prayers to
Do you really believe they can hear you

Poem: My honeybee (ocean waves)

distantcaveLeave a comment

Free verse love poem: My honeybee (ocean waves)

Does he read these
Has he noticed
Does it matter?

I’m sitting beside the pool
Facing me
Is a honeybee
Attracted to fruit
And a porcelain girl
Soft around the edges
I allow it to crawl around and wrap itself around my ring finger
I guess we’re married now

Little thing
It doesn’t matter how much sunblock I put on, I can’t block out the sun
It’s
Coming down on me, waterfalls
Like smooth rainfall
Leaving me flush-faced, soft grace
Bitter taste
Don’t remember what it feels like
Can’t be bothered to recall
You once had me enraptured
I almost thought I had been in love
Like diamonds

I’m soft peaches in the summertime
I make fun of you so much for listening to Sublime
It’s such bad music!
Change the channel
The cute expressions you get from your grandfather
You’re oh so mysterious
You can’t be bothered!
I laugh to nobody but myself (in my head)
Washed out riverbed
Covered with vines, rusty garden shed
Honey-crisp apples, I belong to myself
The sweetest
In all of the land
I run right through you
Like falling quicksand
Can’t help it
I kind of like when I tan

It reminds me of the best parts of my dad

The Dnieper river that to me was a beach
I wanted to be pretty
Coated in bleach
Amphetamines
Smother you with nothing because I’m so shallow
I am only found on the surface, along with the waves
I swim against the current for the epinephrine release
The rush I crave
Unsettling
Dissatisfying
Marbles in whirlpools
Sadly,
Patience
Is killing me inside
And I don’t show it because I’m so shallow
I am only found on the surface
With the ocean waves
Find me here

Then wash me away

Poem: Work phone

Poem about love: My John Wayne boy

distantcaveLeave a comment

Poem about love: My John Wayne boy

You said you never feel lonely
I could never get over that

We learned in class about some of your traits
An offbeat tendency to act relentless with your rage
The time capsules get dimmer the more we age
Born awkward and sour
The man finds his power
Resting on golden wings of a tranquil dreamscape
Favourite thing to do is to make pretty girls wait
All the right looks, though never able to relate
Slips through fractures, a constant change in state
How can it be this impossible to communicate
You locked all the doors and I can’t escape

 

With my love, my love
My patience, my love
My network of genes that cast shadows and glimpses
Upon me like several hundred suns
Making sure I am perceptible to the common eye
The idealist way of living
Captured stones and the complications of modern-day decision-making
Moons I don’t know the names of
Wait for the right moment
Wait for it to feel right
I promise I’m only made of immeasurable love
It just doesn’t matter, that’s what I was afraid of

Treating girls like you’re the man himself, John Wayne
Laconic, bashful, wading in the wash
Walking ‘round town like there’s something on your mind
Always looking down but never checking behind
The childlike part of you always so afraid
Couldn’t stop wondering what made a man that way
I got nine-hundred-ninety dollars and I want a new amp
You spent your life dreaming of the things you can’t have
At night your back hurts, no amount of pills for that
You spent your life savings wanting wealth so bad

Always stuck choosing between sweeter or sour

I look at you with fresh eyes
You don’t mirror my gaze
I count your neurotransmitters, tell you which are out of phase
Never tell you the number
I know you’re scared, my boy
I spent years trying to convince you life is for us to enjoy
But I’m just a girl, and you’re just a boy
I’m just a girl, and you’re just a boy
My lingering look unsettles you

Patience is for the people that simply can’t handle it
If you want to start over, you will have to manage it
Before your day trips come full circle, you can’t abandon it
Nobody got love by simply demanding it
I know a thing or two about vinyl & coffee ice cream
I could write an anthology filled with my daydreams
It’s nice on paper when nobody can hear your screams

In the rose garden we were seemingly scared of nothing
I couldn’t get my eyes off the deep green trees
The whole way home
Whatever you’ve got inside, you’ll never show
Those aren’t husband qualities – I know, you know
Have you ever thought of what it could be like to come home

You said you never feel lonely
I could never get over that
Rest your head, go to sleep
Think of love, try to imagine it

You don’t know what to think of
You don’t know what to think of
You don’t know what to think of
You don’t know what to think of

I could write an anthology filled with my daydreams
It’s nice on paper when nobody can hear your screams

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