Tag: Love

Love poem: Polished shoes & Burberry perfume

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Love poem: Polished shoes & Burberry perfume

I don’t want nothin’
The taste in my mouth
To want is to crave is to isolate
Like you’re sick

I may care to admit that it was my fault
My not bothering to understand you, ask the things that really mattered
What is it that you do to relax after a stressful day?
Tell me about the things that frighten you
Make sure for our sake that I’m not one of those things

Love poem: Polished shoes & Burberry perfume (continued)

I’m a dandelion
In your crystal abyss of a forlorn cave,
I don’t cry very often
I want you to hold me throughout the day
Feel close to me
I’m free-flowing like a loose feather
A father that doesn’t scold his kid
A mother who holds you right back

Love poem: Polished shoes & Burberry perfume (continued)

I’m driving, just like everybody.
Driving you crazy, but I think you like it
I’m obsessed with roses and peonies and you’re obsessed with my Burberry perfume
We make a good pair and I like the way I look in the windowpane glare
Cos I’m happy for some reason, for some reason,
Can you tell; can you tell?

You drive a jaguar, no, I’m just kidding
It’s a Subaru
Do you have any reason to believe that I don’t think you’re super cute
You drink your key lime and strawberry
And you like my Burberry
Perfume the way it
Sneaks up on ya
Don’t ya wanna
Hold me forever for the rest of the night

Love poem: Polished shoes & Burberry perfume (continued)

An auteur to be reckoned with, to be recognized
I saw the way you polish your shoes
Like you want to fade into the background
I’ll grab you right back
I’m hospitable like that
Sit next to you on a garden swing

Love poem: Polished shoes & Burberry perfume (continued)

Don’t ya wanna
Hold me forever for the rest of the day
Don’t you want to
Tell me you’re going to stay

The singular beauty
As an eternal optimist

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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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Love poem: Initials inscribed

distantcaveLeave a comment

Welcome to my poetry website! Pink poems are love poems & blue poems are more general “life” poems. Each poem is interrupted by photographs and ends when you’ve reached the SoundCloud portion. I didn’t like the Push notification service, so I’m working on a new email newsletter for updates. xx

Love poem: Initials inscribed

I think I got a good one
Don’t want to let him go
But silk and satin separate here
That’s really all I know

Got a gun in my purse
I’m walking on the haunted hills
I don’t mean to tell offbeat jokes
But I like the way it makes you feel

Wavering and wandering, I can’t even see straight
When I throw a dagger, I don’t know where it goes
I don’t want to see red, but I’m so in love with colour
Vivid, I like it vivid, I like the deep blues
That scare you
I’ve been there too
Afraid to be in my own skin
So I can try yours on
Tailor it just right to fit you
Give it to you back clean, with only my initials inscribed
Between your clavicles in cursive font
This is the way the world spins
What are you waiting for, just get in
Breathe a little bit in the boiling river with me

I can take you to
I can take you to the brink of insanity
Though you’ll find it’s more apricot and mesh than you could have dreamed
I know what’s on the other side
Flown there a billion times
The places I don’t know, yeah they’re calling for me
I can take you to the edge of insanity
Show you how blooming and lovely it feels

A beach of all rocks, I’m made of charcoal – this much I know
I’ll be your stepping stone
When you find yourself alone and feel like nobody’s on the line
Oh, I’ll come on by
I drive faster than all the vehicles on the highway combined
Immeasurable, transferable, soft with elegance and no hint of dismay
I’m etched into the clouds for you
Yeah, I’ll be there for you
Show you a world that’s clandestine and brand new
Got it on lock

I tailor my own skin
So that it fits me just right
So that when you look my way
You see me in just the right light

Lie down on this river bed with me
There’s no future, there’s no past
There is only the space
We occupy
For the night

And if
We separate
I’ll have
Pushed you
In the direction you were heading anyway

A love poem about comforting someone.

Sweet boy
Nothing to be scared of
You know that
You know that
Don’t you now

Sacrificing my will

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Love poem: Pink cashmere daydream

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Love poem: Pink cashmere daydream

A penchant for swimming in rivers too deep to be my abyss
In fragile momentum, I find
Apricots
And shades of silver lightning
Collapsing interwoven honeyed harmonies that indicate a linear adoration
Cut like a crisp stone scattered in orchestration but ruined by damage
That seeped up when I went to sleep and I found that to be the last drawback
I sailed too fast
I redact my last remark
I kissed you too fast
Didn’t know where to start
So I plunged so far ahead of time I thought I almost lost you but
In your pink cashmere sweater you said I was better
Than all the last ones combined
And I laughed
Softly
Globally
Hopefully

Alone in the car, I stared at the floor
The bitter horror found me gazing at whatever was familiar
I took the cobblestone and I built a new throne
But it felt so empty sitting there all alone
You know the name of every anatomical bone
And your collarbone is like morning ballet on a fresh Sunday, holding white roses for performers
Putting your arm around me
Chemicals of amphetamine
Pink cashmere daydream

Holier than heavy black tar
That we cleaned like available vacuums at a self car wash
Dispensable
Agreeable
A comfort to the chaos
A detachment so surreal
You kept moving my long blonde hair because it covered my eyes
And that
Bothered you
Slightly
I’m too shy to figure out why
I wouldn’t dare say you wanted to
See me
In the wild
Winter storms for cars that have poor engines
Screwed up transmission
To be by your side at a fireplace
That’s Sunday for the moon to bear witness
That Sunday when we drank tea and
Truly engaged, we
Smiled for long periods of time
As the world passed us by,

I looked across the field and I saw what you meant about how the haze seems so foggy
So transgressed
You find clouded cataracts in vast open skies
You find evening channels on the television
Your visor doesn’t fit you
My baseball caps need to be adjusted
We split caramel lollipops into two and talk about all the things we’re planning to do
I believe in you
I truly believe in you

The gas station where your face becomes rosy-pink because I paid you a compliment
Or three
You’re blushing
It’s charming
And yet so disarming
Because I’m just a girl and I don’t know what I’m doing
And you
So self-assured
So on path, so on-course
Layered within your default settings of adjustment tendencies
I’m small
So small
Like a stone
In water
Always underwater
Always plunging down
Always in sheer phosphorescent shadows of blue
And I make my way to you
And you tell me to go pay the cashier
I read your last name on your credit card
Not once
But twice

I make my way
Back to the station wagon with your favourite chips
And Mountain Dew
Good with navigation
Reads maps for the sheer delight of it
The fruits of our labor
Rear mirror directed towards you for you to put light pink lip gloss on
Like a Princess
Like a fairy tale
Like diamonds
Like matcha green tea lattes that you pay for out of sheer hospitality
Because you’re older

Because you’re older
Getting rosy-pink cheeks
I said you were sweet
You’re playing the song I have a tattoo of on my thigh on repeat
Because you’re so sweet
Because you’re older
Because your cheeks are rosy-pink

Can’t miss a single second
I try not to blink
Don’t want to miss a single thing
I try not to blink

Because you’re older
Because you’re so sweet
Because your cheeks are rosy-pink

I try not to blink

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Love poem: Fine craftsmanship (prayers)

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Love poem: Fine craftsmanship (prayers)

Wild sweet jasmine
To be your
Ruby red grapefruit, in the evenings
I created the end, and I made it into a new beginning
Cowboys on ranches far away
White carnations
Love letters – February through May
The bitter ruins of my golden but soft decay
My work is my turmoil, my kingdom is where I’ve come home to play
Twirl my hair around thorns, like the ocean
Softly sway
Hips in the distance
Grey fossils, treasured finds
A new day, a fresh surprise
My loving green eyes

Tan corduroy jacket
Your bitter resentment
Hollow times with crisp features
A medieval castle for which the chambers held me too tightly
At an uneven slant
A rug on the floor of rather ravishing woodwork
Fine craftsmanship
Estranged notices
French boutiques
Dolls, eerily
Arranged
In singular form
Entranced forever
When you say your prayers, who are you saying them to
Do you believe they can hear you?

John Wayne’s face engraved on a keychain I bought in a tiny town in Texas
The boys were awfully nice
They said the funniest things
I could imagine, I could imagine
Turning suddenly
Away from the shore
Hardly ever get bored
Always waiting for more
Deftones on megaphones
White leather cowboy boots, whatever fashion means to you
It means nothing to me; I’m so at peace in the wild country
I want to be smothered in everything
I want the most handsome boy in the entire world to come marry me

A sticker peeling off a cup, washed one too many times
I saw what you wrote in your letter
I thought you hinted at
Despondency
It was transparent
So fluid I almost didn’t have to read between the margins
You held your gaze low
I knew what you were about
I can ache but I can hardly shout
Not a day goes by where I don’t rearrange my doubts
And I may mean little to you, but that’s something to think about
The violent vehemence of what this rendition says in whispers to you, me
My small town
My spam risk
My desolate, brisk characteristics like islets of weakness and Beethoven
Beaming down the hallway
Fresh-faced, rosy
She’s so pretty, she’s so pretty, she’s so graceful & pretty
Mid-16th century dream queen

Am I reminiscent of anything that bores you to death
Amphitheaters of despair
Hold me
Unfold me
Run wild with me

Be forever unafraid with me

Who do you say your prayers to
Do you really believe they can hear you