Tag: female society

Not a love poem: Swan lake memories

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Not a love poem: Swan lake memories

Butterflies flying into me, crashing lightly
You told me my skin was soft, and though I knew it to be true,
I felt in part indebted to you.
Like I couldn’t carve out a space
Large enough to climb into
Show you why your dreams are just make-believe

Not my responsibility to teach anybody anything
Because who do I think I am
Easily tan, have Swan Lake memorized & I do pirouettes in my dining room
I still remember the dress I planned to wear
Continues to hang on the shelf
I don’t look in that specific direction

A poem that is not a love poem because it doesn't have a happy ending, or an ending at all.

Not a love poem: Swan lake memories (continued)

Exhausted from doing nothing at all
About how your bad habits look even worse when I look into a microscope
Focusing on school
Highlighting my study materials
No, not you – there, waiting for me,
Opening the door
Letting me cry
Telling me you liked how I felt safe.

I want to hate the trees you like, but there are so many in every place I’ve visited in the last year, and I feel weak when I want to photograph them because they’re so beautiful, and memory plays in time-lapse frames to make me feel sick and dismal with its reminders.

I feel weak anyway
I know the neuroscience of loss, but who I wanted to be I forgot
You make me weak, you made me vulnerable
I loved it and I hated it
I retained it
Delicate like a fine-point pen drawing insects on your arm that isn’t covered in tattoos
I wish I could hate you

Not a love poem: Swan lake memories (continued)

I’ll move like a moth, I think you forgot
The area code that leads to a postcode
That leads to a telephone wire on an absolutely fragrant fire
In the middle of the city, and the chaos causes lawsuits
We like it because we’re in trouble
Playing tag in the backyard of your grandparents’ house
I miss the smell of hydrangeas
That changed colours
When they felt like it, like I do

I feel weak in places I didn’t know were part of me
When I see a tree
That makes me think, he must be there
Sitting pleasantly
Wasting his life without me

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Love poem: This is why

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Love poem: This is why

You are, shorter than my father
So maybe our babies
Could be small enough to fit in our pockets
Even when they want to leave the nest
(We won’t let them)

I am, not frail – but delicate
Have cuts all over my legs from traversing the wild hills that scrape the fields you envy when you drive past the street I’m claiming as my own for the evening
I’m alone in my own portal, and I’m trying to show this dog an earthly Heaven
Things don’t go as planned
Born in September, so plans for me are fun to make
And I wildly bake
In the crisp and fallen ashes of a crocodile fire
Lit by a herd of wild animals
That nobody else says were there

Love poem: This is why (continued)

I don’t, behave
On Wednesdays
A childlike ambience to my default state of
Cradling myself in bed and only coming out to feed
I am, unsure of who in my surroundings is fond of me
It’s something I push to the back of my tired brain
Don’t think about it, don’t analyze
This concept has yet to make sense
I do like when I wear a lilac top and these black shorts
To swim through fields of wheat mixed in with golden, sombre flowers
Holding my baby darling like a waterfall
She doesn’t, behave
On Mondays nor Tuesdays

And I
Love
Spilled oat milk
As it reaches my carpet & seeps in between the fabric
I lay on the ground
Thinking of how
He lied to me when he said he thought of me while writing those songs
It was just for the sake of conversation
When you find out someone’s romantic, so you play the role
That’s not how I want life to go

Love poem: This is why (continued)

I want nonchalance with a secret tendency to dramatize
That complements my inherent practicality and
Choice to turn this car around on the freeway by moving over the cement blocks that divide the different directional paths
Will I scare you like that?
Do I have to?

I have, two weeks to myself
Though filled with doctor appointments & studying for an exam that will
Determine where I go in life from here
To me, that’s thrilling
And you, are spilling

Oat milk in my kitchen, and it’s dripping
Making its way to the carpet
So I’m laughing
Because you’re obnoxious
But deeply honest

And this is why you and I are where ends meet

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Poem: Choking on grapes

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Poem: Choking on Grapes

It was on purpose
It wasn’t a mistake
I got
Frostbite
From choking on splinters
Peeling them like grapes

Thin as a needle
You make it seem easy
The ploughing is destroying the peyote
And I have created a party for you, the reason for my demise
I’ve been so intrigued ever since you rolled down the window for me to feel the breeze

You will always have the medicine with you
Wherever you go

Poem: Choking on Grapes, continued

In Texas, I felt free because the gas was cheap, and I had salt in my
Teeth
Washing my brand-new blue jeans
Wheat fields and a can of cola, riding in the bed of a truck looking over my shoulder
Tired of having nobody to say anything to
I feel alone and even though I’m used to it
I still have to shrug it off, it seems
A fig tree standing for no one

Pharmacology is lovely & my favourite toothpaste is by Arm & Hammer
I drive to the nearby Rite Aid, where I get a lottery ticket for my mother
Mixing up my favourite numbers
I never win, but she swears I’m so lucky
I couldn’t spell it out right if you had the guts to call me
The ravens in the sky figured out how to fly
In ways that make girls and boys want to order cameras that run on film
See a kid skateboard home and it’s like it’s 2008
And my hair is blonde
A lavender bush smiling for no one

Poem: Choking on grapes, continued

Cut in half an apricot
Can run for miles; dimes are all I got
My backpack is lilac, because I want the items I own to be beautiful
To represent a part of me that feels eternal
Colour schemes and fever dreams
I get lost
Upside down
Tangled in between two separate swings
Lose and find my favourite things

It must have been on purpose
It was no mistake
Soft cotton
Precious limestone
Overflowing bookcase that survives California earthquakes
Girls are selling their poetry on Instagram and I’m

Still broke
Choking on splinters
Peeling them like grapes

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Love poem: Love like durable tooth enamel

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Love poem: Love like durable tooth enamel

I think of you, all the time- I really can’t help the hold you’ve put on me
Chrysanthemums and roses
To make my living place
Look like it has an ounce of life residing in these four-chambered walls

Time is not, on my side
Because I love you even more now than I did before
Nobody has, the same grey hairs you do
Same fearless aptitude
Concerned look when I walk in the room
You’re a lily growing in a field surrounded by vastness and open skies

I could cry
The scariest thing about love, is that it cannot be replaced
I remember looking at your face
And knowing things will be okay, regardless if you were to turn away
If I’m left in the dust, I’ll roll in it and breathe it in
Draw elaborate diagrams of my lung damage because anatomy is my second language
I miss your tooth enamel

On a Saturday, almost-afternoon
Everything is perfect
And I am crying, sipping my coffee
Thinking that time has done nothing but grow my love for you

It’s so strong, like a branch that will never snap
I wonder if you’ll ever figure out I love you like that

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Poem: Surveillance footage of Heaven

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Poem: Surveillance footage of Heaven

An inner emptiness that you can’t translate

Sea urchins watch me spin like a landslide
Unsure what comes next
Not sure if I’ll pull through
Lavender sea bed, schools of orange fish with blue stripes
I breathe every chemical in, and I’m doing so fine

He doesn’t call to come over
I got a dog that comes when called
Didn’t expect that to be
But it fits me quite nicely
She lays against my running shoes
As though they belong to the godly Earth
Call my mother and tell her I’m doing so fine

Poem: Surveillance footage of Heaven: Continued

You come across as
Tender
But you’re more violent than the tornados found in Oklahoma, Nebraska, and the South of Dakota
The plain states which are far from plain, because the bartender knows your name even before you walk in and order what the masses are having

There is a certain irony to how he shows callousness to the world
It so evidently depicts what he tries to hide
Myself, I’ve given up staying wide awake to wonder why,
As there are lavender flowers with higher powers than standard protocol would lead you to believe
I tremble on flat ground, but am most composed where it’s rocky
Try to remember what it was like, but my eyeglasses become foggy

A raindrop in the company of a million oak leaves
Desperate for its singular, idealized attention

You have to be observant without reading too much into certain things
I’ll fade in the summer months, but come up vibrant with the snow in February
Callow and shy, but on Neptune the temperature is
Humid like a riverbed overflowing with algae
Extracted for supplements you find at the natural food store
You only walk in because the weather is poor
(Doing laundry and then doing laundry again because you’re bored)

Tender spirit
Your affection is like
Surveillance footage I watch on repeat

This dog comes when called
I think this is heaven, after all

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