Tag: creativity

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: Your short poem

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Poem: Your short poem

I’m going to write a short poem for you
Because your attention span in regard to me is dim, like my light
Like species survival in the afternoons by the Caribbean seas
Like a sunset that I swallowed because I was hungry and cold
How you lit me a half-broken cigarette, said I was engaging and bold
You shined your white teeth and like heaven I was sold

I took a section of your brain to look for “Fos” proteins to see which neurons were active
And I saw a glimpse of you and me on the playground
You were wearing blue jeans
Grass stains and all
I was wearing a pink gown like I was dressed for the ball
We were talking about being together and having it all
The wind blew
I got cold
You cradled me like a baby
Asked me to move in with you, I said screw you, maybe
I was so happy
I gleamed
Loyal like a preteen
So high on amphetamines
You kissed me on Seafoam boulevard, amongst the serene
By the ocean, strawberry cream lotion
Patches of snow, circles of rainfall
I’m in love with how you’re seventy-four inches tall
You call me graceful, for I’m patient and small
Call me once, just one phone call

Arachnoid hematomas
So thin you could see through my veins
Put me on the back of your bike, make me hold you real tight
Heaven shines in my eyes, it’s fluorescent and bright
White cerebral wave light
The stars and the apocalyptic tides
The places where my sensitivities hide

In your harsh but kind gaze I reside, and I don’t know why, I don’t know why

I wanted to write you a short poem
Because I can’t forget how much you mean to me
So I put words together, loosely, and tied them with a silver string
I asked you to light me up in the dark
But your attention span in regard to me is dim
Like my light

There is a light that always goes out

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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Poem: Elysian space dust IPA

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Peony photograph by Elle ©

Nothing beautiful ever lasts

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Nothing beautiful ever lasts

(venom like frostbite on a Sunday morning)


Scroll

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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