Poem: Love it any less

Poem: Love it any less

He tells me
Not to get too excited
As we sit alongside the deep-blue riverbed
But me – I’ve been counting down the days
I saw my chamomile flowers bloom, then close, and fall apart in the duration of one week
As I hadn’t changed the water
I was distracted by the sparkle
Of the morning’s horizon
As it painted me in shades of pink I couldn’t quite capture on film

California outlawed flavoured vape products
I know, I’m mourning it heavily
Now I find myself smoking non-menthol cigarettes in my parking lot
Like my father did, in his
Amber tones of his skin shining like
Diamonds you pick back up from the jewelry store
That line your blue-tinted watch with a brand painted in cursive ink
Like your mother’s Russian handwriting
Soft in all of the
Roughest places

My afternoon gaze is
Thick with gloom and hope, both at the same time
I’m wrapped in my navy ‘Windy City’ sweater that I bought at a Walgreens
Where it took four cashiers to properly ring up my alcoholic drink, too
Because the cashiers were mostly underage
But we were on the same page
Laughing about how liquor makes the turbulent flight go smoothly
And how I’ll wrap myself in bridal magazines and read the new Forbes “thirty under thirty” list
Knowing I won’t make it on there in less than three years
Cutoffs are so harsh, isn’t it maddening
Life is so funny sometimes, at the right times
I’ll fade to November grey like a collapsing sky
I’ll lay my head down and never, ever wonder why
I’ll endure the gradual passage of time

He adjusted his collar
And we laughed about who is taller
Because me, my small frame, I take up so little of space
Though I feel like if I spread my fingertips, they’ll reach the mountains
Surrounded by cherry stems and cascading fountains
Waterfalls along the trail where my senior terrier walks on her own self-created path
My glimmer of hope in this brittle, dark night
Made for a hollow tin of little coloured cards stolen from the paint store
Where we wrote our biggest dreams on
Gathering the courage to set them on fire
And not intending to burn down the park grounds down with our miniature vision boards

I found a poem I published for a boy three years ago
On his birthday
It was called ‘I wrote you a poem’
My mother laughed at how cute that was
I did too
I think back to those years and how he never came through
And somehow that didn’t make me love him any less
Probably even more so

I have to get better with taking derivatives
Along with the vitamins in my medicine cabinet
I finally bought a parking permit for university so I could stop
Getting tickets
Even though the traffic cop is such a sweetheart
He asks about my navy ‘Windy City’ sweater
Things like “so when are you going to finally end up there?”

The piece of rose-tinted, painted card-stock
That I’d never set on flames
I keep it in my wallet
To know that
I’ll get there

I’ll get there
Until I’m at the drugstore again with the cashiers
That are of-age, by that time
And I’m buying wine

And Chicago will treat me like it’s been mine this whole time
And I won’t love it any less
Probably even more so

© Elle Silvestrov

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Free verse poem: Things I’ve found out (the right season)

Things I’ve found out (the right season)

a free verse poem about finding stability & self-acceptance

I know
That things won’t work out as planned
I know that
Because my mother taught me how to be a man
But there are
Parts of me that won’t let someone hold my hand
Because I
Because I
Find graveyards appealing
Harsh winter thunderstorms healing
And the chaos within you is quite often revealing
Of the doom and dismay your surroundings convey
The filth
The agony
The dreams others built for you become destroyed
I’m my own person

But when I drive home at night
I don’t feel alone
I just know I am

It was cold in Chicago
And I wanted to lay down
In the snow
My frail body
Seldom appears melancholy
Singing you songs, breathlessly, to you in your sleep
Though my voice is never the right pitch
Maybe that’s why I wait
Until you hit your steady dream state
An abyss of perpetual ignorance to moral obligations

The impatience
Is testing me
Like a ticking clock
Telling me
I
Haven’t painted
The sky quite right
Haven’t gotten the stars
To my audience’s delight
And I think
I might combust
From the tainted, porcelain figure I often wish to set on fire
Because what burns
Feels so warm
In winter

It’s almost
February
The anniversary of
A thousand slumbers
A rainfall that struck me like
Lightning on the fast lane on the highway
Swerving between cars with my eyes closed
Thinking I’m oh – I’m just so composed
But me, parchment paper thick, practically comatose
Wouldn’t keep anyone up at night
When you haven’t
Made a name
For yourself
And nobody
Gets the intonation
In your full name quite right
Maybe it’s not
The right time
To say

That what burns feels so warm
In winter
My god
The shades of blue
How I’d devour the skyline
Like an arsonist,
I fade to grey
Along with the trembling cityscape

I encapsulate all the seasons & am easily forgotten

I only hope to properly portray
The vacancy light in this hotel I occupy

Me,
Against the wall
Cold, doll-like, confused
Fingertips
Painted the lightest shade of pink that the nail salon could offer me
If only,
I could be elegant
I could like parts of myself that others don’t
I could live my life like
My father envisioned

When he said to me

That I was born
In the perfect season
For a girl who prolongs
Finding a reason
To burn this place down to the ground

Hollow
Cave
Where my old journals remain
Where ex-boyfriends mispronounce my last name
They never remember the best parts of you
They never really knew
How to get through
How your eyes turn dark green when your favourite song comes on
Or when the colour temperature is five thousand Kelvin and
I feel ashamed
That I woke up to find
Myself
Not in embers
But filling a body
With wholeness that only

Real self-acceptance could develop and create

Something permanent
Is never
Found

I’m no good with directions but I don’t believe I’m lost
I’m exactly
On my own two feet
Waiting
To leave a message after the beep

But I hang up, because I remember
They can’t pronounce my last name
The intonation
Is weak
And I
Am so
Much farther than I thought I would be
At this time of my life
Are you, at all, surprised?

When I look
At the cars
Passing me by
On the highway,
I wonder
If they’re going
Somewhere warm and inviting

I don’t know why
That
To me
Feels so terribly frightening

Like a cradle filled with endless lightning

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Poem: How little I meant

Poem: How little I meant

Live in modest obscurity
Classic California beach living
Sunglasses, shades, Maseratis, fast cars, soda pop
A life that has been glamorized
Or so I had hypothesized
He wouldn’t even be reading in between my lines
Too busy thinking about himself all the time

Perhaps a few motels overlooking the coast
Empty parking lots
Paint a vision for yourself
Soft ice cream in all good health
Said you were sober, had liquor on the top shelf
Honey, I thought you loved yourself

Ladies, you know me for my diamonds
I’ll show you everything sparkly that’s designer
That girl you once knew, you’re right behind her
To enjoy the high life without mascara on
To come to rise with the evening sun
To know how to really know someone
Stay omnipresent – hot, wild, and young
Like every morning, a new life has just begun
Dark spaces for dark traces of ice-cold skeletons
Bones only fit like fragments
Do what you’re told
Let your dream love life in front of you start to unfold

Everything in the right order
Everything in the right order
Everything all the same
Everything all the same

Lying between last quarter and new moon
I figured when we’d talk, we would be with each other soon
There are words on my body, on yours – video game cartoons
You never meant to express how little I meant to you

I started noticing in conversation
When the focus was on us, you lacked elation
I quit my work for you, I gave up waiting
I became so exhausted not living, but waiting
I tried to show you I was patient
You hate yourself like you’re tainted
Letting of go of the dream that one day you and I would make it

Now I’m in the doorway, sort of half-naked
I’m alone, but I’m tranquil, and nothing you do will change it

I’m alone but I’m tranquil
Nothing you do will change it

Poem: On the balcony (Merry Christmas)

Poem: On the balcony (Merry Christmas)

I thought about how you didn’t say Merry Christmas
Even though it’s my most favourite of holidays
I thought of all the rainy dates
The sombre, cold Saturdays
Square cross-sections of apple-green pyroxene
Hand over my mouth while I scream
The antagonism of adenosine by caffeine
The nights of unconditional pain
Nothing to lose, nothing to gain
I thought of you as my John Wayne
Only my devotion remained the same

Daffodils paint your iridescent smile
I always try to get you to stay for a longer while
I’m not who you’re looking for, but I’m trying
The roses I buy myself are perpetually dying
If you bought them for me, they’d stay alive
They’d put their hands on my shoulders when they’d come on by
I’d never have to come up with a reason why
When you’re faithful and in love
There’s no reason to lie

I nailed death decrepit, got it in centuries-old buildings
You throw away all the invitations to friends’ weddings
I’d love to meet your family
I’d love to meet your friends
I’d love to meet anybody that admires the time you spend
Fixing up daisies
Mowing the lawn
You softened my view of right and wrong
You made me too vague to quite belong

Falling out of love with someone you’ve loved for so long
Sounds an awful lot like an unfamiliar song

But I’m learning the chords
Your vinyl collection, of course
You want me to play housewife and do all your chores
But with my pale blonde hair you still manage to get bored
The hollowness in my eyes has become an eyesore
So when I look directly at you, you just choose to ignore
And I wait at the docks, my knees up to the shore
If I asked you for freedom, you couldn’t give me any more
Spoke to me like a virgin
Told the world I was a whore

I could leave tomorrow
You wouldn’t say goodbye
It was my absolute most favourite holiday
And you must have forgotten that brilliant thing you had to say
My friends keep saying this time I need to stay away
No more watering the garden
No more child-like play
Find me reminiscing in your spot in the doorway
Nostalgia too much to bear
Your petit-mal seizure stare
I’m not quite there
But I’m almost halfway

I molded you into a diamond
You decayed that way
Now you’re so lost in thought that you’re digging your own grave
I’m upset my soft face can’t bring you back
Been trying to determine what it is I lack
It’s so sad to see you so worn out like that
My words are so useless, coated in coal-black
You’re so sober when you drink your cognac
I keep thinking of this one hazy flashback

It’s you and me on the balcony
But this time you’re in love with me

I’m not who you’re looking for, but I’m trying
The roses I buy myself are perpetually dying
If you bought them for me, they’d stay alive
They’d put their hands on my shoulders when they’d come on by
I’d never have to come up with a reason why
When you’re faithful and in love
There’s no reason to lie

You only see black & white but I’m lilac
You only see in me all the things I lack
A heroin dream that begins and ends with black

I know I said forever, but I’m not coming back
I know I said forever, but I’m not coming back

It’s you and me on the balcony
But this time you’re in love with me
I know I said forever, but I’m not coming back
But this time you’re in love with me

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Poem: Burial ground (true love)

Poem: Burial ground (true love)

I’m a very kind and gracious girl
If you let me, I will give you the world
But as the brutality of this world continues to unfold
My mirror’s edge is veiled, my patience can’t be sold

Give me your garden
Make everything quiet
I swear I’m prettiest when I’m not lying
I won’t give up hoping, I won’t stop trying
But it would be a piece of fiction to say I don’t dream of dying

You’re laughing at me
My blonde hair blows in the breeze
I will prevail, even though they’re dead-set on bringing long-lasting harm to me
I see through the trees
When I run, you freeze
Collapsing in child’s fables isn’t only for the weak
Take me with you
I want to know what God knows
Don’t be scared of the nighttime
In the darkest hours, I’m most composed

The more you grow up, the smarter you think you are
But in the same circumstances, you always lose yourself
I collect hard-cover books of flowers & death spells
I know all the wonderful roses by their first and last names
I play with my sanity like it’s my favourite win-or-lose game
You were always so harsh
But me? Oh, so tame
Didn’t know how to respond to all the accusations and shame
I hate you, I love you
It all sounded the same

I’ve decided to take my most loved photo of us down from my shelf
I thought it proved we were real
The space between you and myself
But my mitral valve is still broken, so I can’t afford to inconvenience oneself
Though our smiles were true
You said it yourself
Never seen a girl look at you so warm and heartfelt
It hurts now
But it didn’t back then
Those split seconds repeat in my mind, again and again
You were my prince, my most handsome immunogen
You said I stunned in my floral dress
Dainty and parisienne

I know this frail body wasn’t exactly built to please
I’m a young girl too – I have restraint, but I have needs
My singleness of purpose is far too remote
I tend to break up with boys by posting poems I wrote
When I was at my most fragile, I asked you for a rose
Your promises were painful because I never got those

But your perseverance to love me will be your best power
I stay up wondering how to please you
I only sleep a few hours
Me at my most tired is me at my most sour
How much more beautiful do I need to be, in order to receive a white flower?
I’m sort of like a princess stuck at the crown of a tower
My father’s hung flyers for the peasants and princes to form a line
Some of them have courage
Some barely have a spine
The common denominator seems to be they’re all trying
But if you said it’s to impress me, I’d say that you’re lying

Several days ago, I bought roses
To make myself smile
I didn’t change the water
Just like me, they’re dying

Winters in Chicago were when I felt my most free
The wind chill was so strong, I felt it belonged to me
It didn’t matter that it was a lake, I still saw it as the sea
All I remember are evenings at Argo Tea
Feeling happy, just to be me

You must have composure, you must be determined
I’m taking care of myself, I’m doing it on purpose
The December chill confronts me with things I am sure of
Like how spontaneously great heights can collapse
Like how the disillusioned are most likely to relapse
Like how I felt, true love was almost in my grasp

But as the fog on my window, it visited and then passed
It disappeared just like that
I’m trying not to react

I’m screaming into my pillow
(I’m trying not to react)
I’m folding laundry to feel productive
(I’m scared of whom I’ll attract)
I lied to everybody & said I was fine
(I was so scared the whole time)
I’m taking every analeptic
(I write your name, strike it out with a line)

I picture me in your backyard,
Picking grapes off the vine
I cried the whole way home, driving past the coastline
I thought I didn’t deserve beauty, God doesn’t want me on cloud nine
So I hit up your number,
Forgot you were atropine
And now I’m having trouble sleeping because you aren’t my lifeline
I tell you
I need you!
You say, maybe next time
“I’ve got a girl here, she’s helping me escape my mind”

To some people, I’m gorgeous
To you, I’m saccharine
But everything I am, you will always undermine
I’m not your chosen one
Never your valentine

I’m the one that treads water
Looking for reasons to be alive

If you were safety, you wouldn’t give me your hand
You’d sail towards what suits you
The palm trees, the sand

I would get tired
Give up and drown
You wouldn’t say sorry, because you wouldn’t be around

The water obscures my hearing
The green-blue current is the only sound
I wanted to be loved, the void was what I found
But the ocean is my new bliss, so I fade into the background
I’m five again, I’ve found my new playground

I would get tired
Give up and drown
You wouldn’t say sorry, you wouldn’t be around
I’m five again, I’ve found my new playground
The sea has become my chosen burial ground
The green-blue current is the only sound

The void is what I felt, but true love is what I found

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Dedicated to: James Mark Davies.