Tag: dark poems

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: Mid-18th century French (intoxicating you)

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Poem: Mid-18th century French (intoxicating you)

I’m baby blueprint in grid print intoxicating you
I’m the Fourth of July, 3 summers ago when we got high
We asked when did we stop having the times of our lives

My neck is so hurt, it’s too much for me to look down
But I always do
Redirect to separate avenues
Skateboard to my house, I’ll come out for you
Green apple lollipop, sour
Teach me your tricks and make it rain for a half-hour
Just enough to get the grill hot
Just enough to get me to take the most bone-chilling cold shower
I’m coming in hot
But I always leave so cold
In the cab I sit there- forlorn, morose, staring at the floor
Letting the kids run by and do what they’re told
I reminisce about the days when to be elegant wasn’t to be bold, and I coughed like raindrops like saran-wrap covering old left-overs
If it rains it pours, well you’re leaving – I’m sure
You always thought your music taste was so obscure
If it rains, it pours
Well, you’re leaving – I’m sure

I’m melting into hydrocodone bitartrate so crystallized you’d sell me for my Chemistry degree and put my name on your white t-shirts
Spray mist on your face until you’re reimbursed
Like daggers, how smooth you are when fatalities aren’t your responsibility, and you make your way down to the ferry where the starfishes know your name and keep it a secret
Nobody cares anyway

I’m coming in hot
But I always leave so cold

It’s too much for me to look down
But I always do
Reaching separate avenues

I said, life is a gamble
But I’m covering my face with my hands
My life is in shambles!
Can someone help me escape from this nonchalant misery I’ve so gracefully pretended is how to live a life?
I don’t make sense to anyone
I’m always deleting phone numbers
Past lovers
The smothered
The weak and the downtrodden, England in the shade
Four in the afternoon
Crisp, deafening cave
When you and I were little, we loved to misbehave
But now the landlord is asking for payments for our graves
And it’s mid-18th century French and it means
“Go fuck yourself”

Somber
Oppressively sober in mood
He looked at her with this decadent tone that I’d almost call smooth
If it wasn’t for the violence we heard up the street
The night skies were starless
I fell asleep regardless
I just wanted to escape for a week or two
I never knew my nightmares would come true
I liked the dark and the dull in colour but honey, what happened to you?
What’d they do to you?
What are you so scared of?
Why do you still try to write songs out of my poetry?
Why do you recycle and reread my emails?
Why do you send me false compliments in the mail?
Why’d you hire an attorney when you’d likely be better off in jail?
I don’t particularly adapt to being hated
I just deal
Fifty-dollar bill
I have a white dress that makes me look like a ghost and I thought I met a new boy that would love me the most
But he’s slipping out of my fingers, of course
Tell me I’m not predictable

Grey daffodils, crisp July skies
I just wanted to escape for a week or two
I never knew my nightmares would come true
It’s November and there’s not much more to expect from the undesirable residue
I just hoped I could sit down and paint you
Make something beautiful
Capture a black button-down shirt

Was it good when it hurt?
I’m stumbling over forgotten words
Insecure (or in great difficulties)
He was miserable without her

All is not lost
There is still some chance of success or recovery
But me, haha, me?
Sometimes when a defeat has been sustained
It’s better for everyone involved that you don’t speak my name

Not that there is much to be ashamed
It’s just
Was it good when it hurt?
I told you over and over,
I’m not a good flirt

I’m not a good flirt

If it rains, it pours
And it’s mid-18th century French and it means
“Go fuck yourself”

Poem: A hundred drops per second

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When I met you, you hated yourself
Like you were afraid of yourself
As the storms went on,
You found it to be best to be by yourself
And there,
I was,
Watching a man crumble in front of my very timid but sparkling eyes
It was no surprise
You liked salt wounds and touching my inner thighs
But I –
I bask when I wake with the sunrise
And you –
You look down on me for loving everything until it dies
You hate the earth
And you wonder why
It doesn’t pity you back

I moved out, clean new apartment
Living with a friend
I’m working on my craft
No longer at my wit’s end
Looking forward to all the money I’ll spend
Me?
And you?
Will we ever make amends?

I care no longer
I wouldn’t bother
Oh, your poor father
He knows what’s in the water

I care no longer
I wouldn’t bother
Oh, your poor father
He knows what’s in the water

If I were to swim
To you
To build a new continent
I’d turn around
Find a river raft
You think I’m strange and daft
Never read any of my first drafts
Fell out of love just like that

Now you –
Hopefully you’ll remember the words I’ve said
But it no longer matters to me
Whether you’re alive or dead
Instead

Don’t lose your head
It’s not worth it
We were perfect
But we weren’t
And I’m gasping
For thin air like –

A hundred drops per second

©️ Elle Silvestrov

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Poem: Love you in fragments

Love you in fragments – love you in fragments – love you in fragments – love you 




Author

The author of the poetry on Lilac Dove is a young girl living on the outskirts of Los Angeles, twirling her hair with her finger and eating sour candy, as she writes about the strangeness of her life.

Softness and silk

I love you in fragments
Like pieces of a puzzle

That no matter how hard I try to make out the shapes just right

I’m always wrong

I find myself thinking about things like
Do you paint pictures of me in your mind before going to sleep
Before resting your beautiful tan head on the mattress because you don’t like pillows
You joke they’re too soft
But I’m soft
Fragile in places I’ll never admit out loud
Paradise found
You call, and I’m the happiest girl in the United States of America

To dream is to escape reality

But you just ask me questions
Like I’m an encyclopedia of the world
And while I’m charmed that you value my intellect so
It still feels shallow
A jellyfish catching me after I lose out on a killer wave
When I’m with you, I always tend to misbehave
Reconsider my decisions later
Wonder if I could have done better
But you encapsulate me every time
Put me in a bubble with no oxygen, so with every one of my screams I’m losing out on life
Is that what this is like?

There were times when I felt divine

Reconsider my decisions later
Wonder if I could have done better
Thankful that I still have your sweater
Accept the parts of you no-one else sees
Parts of you that are rust- to me, are shiny
Pick up the phone every time you call

Which as of late, has been no time at all

Leave me a voicemail
Tell me you love me
Leave me a voicemail
Don’t let go when you hug me
Reconsider my decisions later
Wonder if I could have done better

Go to bed every night in your sweater


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Poem: Fading, gracefully

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Poem: Fading, gracefully

My passion is in my work but sometimes it fades
I dress up, I’m ready, to have the most perfect of days
Something charcoal and black gets in my way

A peaceful slumber, I’ve rested
Breakfast is toast
Licking jam off my fingers
The scent of your cologne
I have nothing to do today but write, write, write

Born an academic
I found my love on the field
Pointing straight at my target– focus and press
Down on the trigger, life’s a sweet mess
Baby, we eventually do our best

He said my name sounds expensive

He said my name sounds expensive
Like a luxurious bath
Candles and Ella Fitzgerald in the back
I’m curious about my own tastes
I’m establishing a new state of rebuilding an identity that I lost when we broke off the engagement
Led to a crisp stalemate
And what it necessitates
Is a return to sensuality and glamour
Floral dresses because flowers are part of my soul even though I don’t believe in humanistic psychology
However,
I do like what the existentialists posed
I’m no longer scared to see of what dust I am composed
I stay asleep on such a heavy dose

The rain falls like sugar into a small child’s fragile hands

You shouldn’t be scared of me either
When it rains I’m like in the garden of Eden
You and me, we’re on the same page, something is even
But when I’m alone
I rip out the pages, shivering down to my bones
I let the call ring then hang up the telephone
No service in my castle, but I’m in my zone
Wait for the beat to drop
Babe you’re acting so nonchalant
It’s okay, it’s enough, it’s time to stop
The beautiful rainfall begins to drop
It shimmers
Across my spine

Stick out my tongue because rain tastes heavy
Move my arms up like I’m soaking already
Stick out my tongue because rain tastes heavy
Move my arms down like I’m dead already

Move my arms down like I’m dead already

Nothing like Chicago rainfall


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