West Dale Palms boulevard Clover avenue I go to the grocery store And I run right into you Ask me how things are back home Do your days ever feel terribly long I say, I have to go Think I know the place where I belong
Hollywood, Los Angeles at dusk Her perfume smelled like camellias that bloom in November They look just like roses, so naturally I’m obsessed Swing the door open to a settled fire, Capture in my hands: tiny, soft embers Collapsing into moonlight, but Cradled like dust I’ll be strong for both of us If I must
Love poem: Grocery store [continued]
You have to feed your nostalgia sometimes It’s really the only way that you’ll survive It’s how you keep the dreams alive It’s the only way they’ll see you on the other side
West Dale Palms boulevard Clover avenue When I go to the grocery store I always look for you
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
Angelic Vicious Future physician Painting spiderwebs in your kitchen Emotionally flat But so consistent Best of the best Couldn’t get any better than you wished it
When you’re with me, you’re possessed And I’m not afraid of becoming obsessive Lip gloss all over the glass You’re calling my landline Cos I’ve given you enough incentive Now you’re touching my spine Noticing where the bones don’t really make sense And we laugh like the weight of a crowd Blanket over our eyes, not making a sound.
Love poem: Angelic spine [continued]
You were born in the same month As my father And I’m kind of sick of Not being your official lover
Angelic Vicious Future physician Eating vegan lentil soup you made for me in your kitchen I love your five cats And your cynical wisdom And when I look up to you, I see the sky as well Blanketing you in confetti Astral projections and snow that falls heavy I’m taking my time; we’re going steady Fragrant lullabies pass the time I don’t care, and I don’t mind
But I paint spiderwebs in your kitchen to trap you Right there So that when I come to feed You’ll be blissfully spared
Angelic and vicious I mean, who am I kidding I love your five cats And your cynical wisdom
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
I knew I wanted you the first day I spoke with you With you With you With you Blue thermal t-shirt, I was wrapped up In your sweet voice, your (not really) annoying jokes I had forgotten I was down bad, dead broke Time stopped the first day I spoke with you
Gold medallion, shine me like diamonds, Kills me every time I get out of bed to your text I want to write home about it Put silk through my teeth, be all combat with it I’ll sit here on the floor and think about how complex
Love poem: On purpose (urban legend) [continued]
I can’t be asking for much Got a lot, lot on my plate I have copyrights, and files, and figures to analyze But you’re this too charismatic Works-all-the-time kind of guy You know, oh you do know, how much you make me smile That’s the danger of all of it The tough nature, urban legend, cottage hill style You have me stockpiled
I want to be, yeah, I want to be Sitting on your bed with rain falling outside, waiting for you to come fall asleep Next to me, yeah, you’ll be next to me Kind of adoration you and I like to gate-keep So, so frustrating When I can’t reach through and get to you At the gas station Thinking about how nobody comes close, To grabbing my veins like they’re candy Laughing because you’re stuck in my head as clear, contractor’s glue What am I going to do?
Love poem: On purpose (urban legend) [continued]
Stay silent because I’m mad about the last few days Be the opposite of nonchalant Either go back to, or completely change my ways An orderly woman A tendency to misbehave A well-calculated lover Functioning solo somewhere in an ambient haze For days For days For days
Four days For days Four days For days Four days For days
So I fell onto the marble floor and found opal silk marrying my medium blue craze I miss you, never on purpose
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