Love poem for him: earthquake

Love poem for him: earthquake

You know I stopped myself before I could love you
But
We broke apart
And I can’t help but stare
At your blank, sad face
And the only thing sad about it
Is that you’re not afraid to let me go
You’re not afraid to let

I tried to wake up
But I’m always on the wrong side of the bed
We never got to have that night in the hotel
We never got to have that heavenly first dance
The first and the last pages don’t make me too sad
It’s the way the world turns
Your fingers latched on
Not very tight
Like a blouse that’s unloosened
A foggy memory that never becomes clear

I’m trying to relive the skyscrapers and unraveling chaos
Though all that comes to mind in abstract vision and delusion,
Is you screaming in my direction
Telling me to stop
Telling me to stop
Telling me to stop

What makes you so afraid
To show love to an unloved person
The way you play guitar
It makes me so sad
It makes me so sad
Not for anything do you feel bad
Like grey, fallen embers on a cold winter night
Even though you’d say you’d never
Be there for me
Your sovereignty
Your power

And I remember you
Telling me to stop
Telling me to stop
Telling me to
Telling me to stop

Feeling the things that only I do
The distance that separates me from jagged, carbon you
In ocean waves, we grasp at what feels familiar
What’s underneath us will quench our thirst
Yours, preferably
Mine, isn’t regarded
Unless it’s four in the afternoon & the sun is piercing your nerves
Telling you that these antics are your last fatal curse
I’m far removed
To tell you the truth
I do only the things the boldest among us do

I don’t wait until there’s nothing left to take
In the distance between your brown eyes
And these soft, fallen embers of Victorian blue
Crawl back
Crawl back
Panic attack
Mesh and in pieces
Forgive me for grieving

All ends in love, and love has its reasons
Come find me
Come find me
Come find me
Come find me

It’s so unnerving
Like an earthquake on purpose
It’s so delectable
Like you’ve lost your ability to reason

I’m always portrayed as the one who leaves the throne
Gown is disheveled, porcelain skin intact
Like an earthquake on purpose
Telling me to stop

Feeling the things that only I do
What has become of rage has given its way to you

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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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Love poem: Sweet nectar

Love poem: Sweet nectar

It’s the waves of sadness that trickle with madness
As I cascade onto the lost heavenly golden shore,
Like a goddess from a stolen shipwreck,
I swim upstream, like an airplane in the wind
I won’t press send yet
I’ll leave you diamonds and all of your belongings, arranged into their definitive but transient places
Sprawled amongst my living room
Garments, piles of yarn & cotton
I thought I had it, but my god I’ve lost it

The breathtaking splendor
Of an afternoon in November
When you cradled me like a little baby in your mariner’s arms,
Like a tomboy
Like a child
Like with you, I’d happily run wild
Any day of the week
Do you mind if I speak
Or leave love letters, here and there, for you to read
When your eyes are
Closing
In-between somber nighttime
The stillness I could never objectify

A smooth transition
Won’t you pay attention
I’ve got my hair in curls, a floral neckline
A passerby’s time
Glance at the clock
I almost forgot
I have to let the sheep out before the wolves come back
From hiding
They do like to do that
So rambunctious and eerie
They paint me quite freely

I do love their art – I go to all of their showings
Even when they take place on a Tuesday, or Wednesday, and I’ve got more work to do than I can account for

I’m a lady of charm
And you’ll always find me armed
That part you can disregard

Glock 23 G23 Pistol Semi Auto Firearm Handgun Schematic

I won’t shrink in your presence
I occupy a throne
I go to places where most would be too scared to step on their own
It’s my afternoon glow
When you find me on that smooth soft-stoned path,
The dismay leaving my eyelids as I cast you not an ember of a doubt
But a becoming smile
Welcoming
Almost
Briefly
Weeping
Holding to you closest, what you want most

And that is?
That is?
Something to never be replaced
Something I won’t touch lightly on
Whispering to those in particular who have the patience to sound my vowels and consonants out, deal with the aftermath
Elegantly
Soft in the evenings
Rambunctious – they all are
Their witch hazel broiler room ticking clock
Like apricots at a wedding
In the middle of February
For no reason, no reason
For no reason at all

I sat down with you, there, close to the prisoner’s fence
I wanted to inquire whether you loved me
I can’t remember what I said
But I did
And that’s that
You’ll run me a cold lavender bath
Finding my hazel glow a little too appealing
Hopefully, I hadn’t been too revealing
The room is spinning
And I am thinking

You’re like sweet nectar from a flower that’s never been held

© Elle Silvestrov

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Love poem: Grey t-shirt (chamber orchestra)

Love poem: Grey t-shirt (chamber orchestra)

A love poem about admiration & being interpreted as an authentic rendition.

A chamber orchestra to tell you that
I liked you in that grey t-shirt
Where stillness isn’t illness & former wounds don’t hurt
Moving my bed for me
Minding the carefully close-cut angles
Sweet diamond necklace for
Your baby girl
Soft as a feather
Lie here forever
Absorb the crisp meadow fog that bestows upon us
In our transient youth
We carry inherent truth
Teardrops like vessels that transmit to the azure
My ivory-white dress
Hair is a mess
Porcelain flesh

Find me in your wake

We drift like sovereign kingdoms unheard of
I don’t know your middle name
And this playground is made for the game
We play where you hold me when it’s dark outside
And the streetlights have yet to become undone
Every weekday I rise before the sun
Make you early morning toast
Vegan butter for my lover
You make me laugh in ways nobody ever has
And you’re so good at that
Turning my eyes lilac

Eyelashes painted tar pitch black
Tainted with dismay, but
The softest, quietest features make up your
Sweeping shoulders
A worn man with a contractor’s tan
That moves like sunbeams across flourishing streams
Finding meaning
Hope is so fleeting
But like windmills, we find a day’s work ahead
And you crawl in bed
Influenced by times I had said,
I would be here to calm your nerves
Patient and kind, like a little bird
I’ll be so warm, nothing has to hurt

I set a little trap; in it, I gathered dewdrops
Fragrances from the heavens
Get me home by eleven
Lay on your truck bed and I tell you I’m scared
The future felt obsolete but,
When our gaze meets
I find you in a pocket of porcelain teeth
Gnawing at the frostbite
The howling of the mariner’s night
You rearrange your textbooks and I, light as a pinion
Slip out of the way and I want you to stay
In your grey t-shirt so I can admire
The fibers that overlay your hardened shoulders
Something inside me no longer unnerving
The weight of the earth no longer a burden
You’d go mad from the chaos in my sheath

A smoothness to my skin that absolves sins
The way I’m lighthearted, like no one ever departed
Leaving me to stand in the snow that is falling
And it is now that I think I am stalling
From telling you, I see
Amber rays underneath your eyelids
In the near distance, a gathering of kids
Laughing like God allowed them to celebrate
We’ve got our entire lives to make what’s never been made
Your swarm of avalanches
The dark-cornered branches
This is my stop; I’m home now and
In mint julep transience and snowy ambiance
I’ve somehow arrived in your department
The flowers in the vase in the center of my apartment
The things that make me smile before I go to lock it

Behind me to turn to you and
We drove through Stars and Stripes
Detonating furiously like January ice
We slipped and fell in front of a chamber orchestra
A noise I can only recollect when you object
To me, choosing a spot in the shade,

You want the sun’s rays to cast their marvel on my figurine, my sugared marmalade
Vast open skies
Graceful, feminine thighs
I’m fair-skinned, I know, but your words go to show
You want to have me in the best possible light
Get the green in my patient & reserved eyes, just right
Note the ash blonde strands that are tied with a ribbon
Falling slightly on my face,
Terrible thing to waste
Being at the right time at the right age

When you are near
I don’t have to fear
That I will be seen differently than I am composed

It’s gentle velvet days and nights like those
That I don’t mind you being so close
In your charcoal-grey, woven-cotton t-shirt

To see me as delicately as I am composed
It’s silk & satin days and nights like those
That I just love you being so close

That I just love being in love, almost

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Love poem: Fine craftsmanship (prayers)

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