If you couldn’t tell If you couldn’t tell If you couldn’t tell
I’m spinning around like I’m in the dryer at a laundromat The ladies and gentlemen walk by They don’t check up on me like that Now I don’t even remember how To get you to react It seems like my silence Is doing enough for the pact
Poem: Noise (continued)
Now how come you can’t tell How come you can’t tell
That one of my favourite artists dropped an album All I really thought about was you Listening to each track on the record Thinking of you punching your fist through the wall That we had just painted And me, jaw on the floor Incredibly amazed at What I had created
Poem: Noise (continued)
If you couldn’t tell Now how come you couldn’t tell
I’d go sit at your desk, like a little doll Spin around in circles in your armchair Feeling faint And small You liked calling me that Made you feel something too I think it should be the other way, But I feel so indebted to you
Poem: Noise (continued)
Now how come I couldn’t tell How come I couldn’t see Everything that we did Had really nothing to do with me Now how come I couldn’t tell How come I couldn’t feel Everything that we did None of it was very real
You know up and down what real love is My god, have you felt and known that before You see it traveling through your own veins Sparkling bright on the kitchen floor
I decided to Write myself a love letter Because who really knows Me any better?
What do I keep hurting myself for Nobody’s looking in the mirror but you I keep on dreaming what life has in store But spin in circles until my knees fade to a distant blue It’s so chaotic living like this Never licking icing off the birthday cake Consumes me like frostbite by the lake The peak of my landscape of moth wings And when I take the time to Unpack my belongings I suddenly realize My god, I’m in love with everything So why do I Keep feeling like this Like I’m the only one Like I’m the only one Like I’m the only one
Love poem: Moth wings (continued)
We could see the winter snow again Buy the coat with the elegant faux fur You don’t even have to make amends Cos even God knows talk of sin is absurd We could see Lake Michigan freeze to death While what’s underneath simply carries on One day I’ll get out of bed Just in time to watch the morning’s sun
You know back and forth what real love is My god, you feel it now, just like you did before Watch it coarse through your own stunning veins Opulence and nervousness on the closet floor
Love poem: Moth wings (continued)
You’re too young to be afraid Too old to hesitate We can swim right in the lake ‘Till your body collapses on the seashore
So I decided to write a love letter to myself Not because men let me down But because the sound waves miss my eardrums I go days without hearing a sound But god, I love the tone of my own voice Think it’s so funny that I picked up a southern accent Next time someone says my name I’ll remember I’ve been heaven-sent
Love poem: Moth wings (continued)
I can swim right in the lake In the city of my dreams ‘Till my pale body collapses on the seashore Flooded with hope like the legs of a millipede I am warm and fragile and cold My hair tends to burn if it’s by the fire But my New Year’s resolution will still be to be ‘comfy cozy’ If I said I was suicidal, I’d have to be a liar
I can swim right in the lake Lick frostbite like it’s ice cream Knowing I’d have to seek urgent care Hold myself real tight, several times during the day Feel the humidity of the shower when I’m bare I’m a mother to my children and myself Lover of trucks, flowers, rose petals, and guns I can stick around for a while
Just because I think it’d be fun.
Like I’m the only one Like I’m the only one Like I’m the only one With moth wings
Rose petals with lime in my hot coffee Author’s alterations, metasomatism beneath my bedsheets Making changes to my will because I will outlive my instruments & garments I’m the most proper fit, and I laugh to myself Because nobody else thinks it to be true Playing in the garden all night long
If you’re made of arachidonic acid, you’re still not essential to me Accelerated depreciation is like using plastic So casual for you The cavity where I reside is not accepting visitation Though you can leave the fleurs and baguettes at the doorstep Can I be a princess for once, please? Can someone naturally want to take care of me?
Poem: Four thoughts (Chicago dandelions) [continued]
My abdomen is covered in spears I don’t know where they came from He found it addicting, and I chose not to feel bad, because I settled for a freedom that involved both him and me I’m stored in the nacelle, and you’re a half-decent engineer Who works so much he loses sight of The real thing When it’s engaging in self-piercing Damaging increments Fingernails painted dusty pink
I feel a permanent wholesome vacancy A vacant office A vacant smile A vacant estate A vacant room A vacant seat on a bus A vacant throne A disengaged observer Sometimes I wish you would just look at me Stare at me so I would feel like I was really living, here.
Poem: Four thoughts (Chicago dandelions) [continued]
An abandoned factory An abandoned field An abandoned vehicle An abandoned baby I was left to fall into a state of disuse And then I had to pick myself up Here we are, I’m staring at Chicago on the plane’s seat live screen map, and I want to cry, because it’s screaming out at me
“You need to get rid of everything so that I can consume you in full” Nobody can love you so much to the point that you can’t leave This is everything and all that you want To the point where a low-quality live map brings tears to my turning-dark-green eyes Straightforward without reserve, my advocacy for my well-being Openhearted and honest with my eternal sin That I’m falling more and more in love with
I want what’s favorable I accept what makes me want to sink, not just mine, but all of the ships Things highly unpleasant to me are advantageous to the attitude I want to cultivate Impartial to how we couldn’t quite relate
Poem: Four thoughts (Chicago dandelions) [continued]
I’ve got dandelions in my hair The right guy won’t blow my wishes out A commendatory view of my well-calculated decision and unruly spirit
I appreciate it all The astronomical pitfalls Everything is beautiful to me If it wasn’t, I would not have stayed around here
Poem: Four thoughts (Chicago dandelions) [continued]
Sweet and angelic of you, a stranger said Looked at me with the admiration the last few lacked In a Duty Free store
I learned to be safe in my own skin Complimentary to my own skeleton Dandelions in my hair The right guy won’t blow my wishes out
She was always four thoughts ahead of everyone else
Angel wings, soft graphite I’ve got this new leash on life A bench post that I, chill at, beneath the sun I’ll tell you everything I know about the people that I’ve never met in person I’ve yet to see the sidewalk blossom Though I believe it to be possible A fawn in a garden An encyclopedia of your expressions You picked me at the right time, and I’ll show you exactly how and why
Monrovia boulevard, hit a truck and left a sticker How hospitable Of me in my rather formal attire A ballroom gown for our afternoon at the coffee shop You tell me I’m so glamorous Let me know you think I know it, too I laugh like I’m tossing marbles and we’re Little kids running From the porch To the garden
Love poem: Grey sky lifespans (delicate) [continued]
I say things that don’t make any sense at all And you smile because you just understand You get why grey skies make me feel like Watching thunderstorms from my bedside window You get why I’m so scared of heights, but I want nothing more than to fall off skyscrapers It looks fun to me It feels nice to think A freedom I can’t paint Paper I can’t afford From the store with the caution tape that you wrap me up in I’ll bite
You have houseplants and I like that Tending to something without wanting more from it in return Down to Earth, high and dry, the mailbox was bent and broken Like someone had knocked it over I was vacillating between fixing something with my bare hands and coming across as an intruder Polite political statements You left dandelions for me on the hood of my car I think you and I are something I would like to take part of
Love poem: Grey sky lifespans (delicate) [continued]
You touch my teeth I collect twigs for the front of your door Discussing orientation of lenses and why people never end up treating you the way you would think I try my best (starting today) not to analyze so, But chaos is a burning structure of loss With you having a favourite brand of dental floss You’re awfully loyal to.
You are a wave made out of rain and when your current reaches me I disappear underwater and discover parts of myself I believed to be missing Thinking I could benefit from being more forgiving As long as I held on tightly to myself I found you on the shore, sitting on your surfboard, and you told me it was a curse to see so much With Baby’s Breath and seaweed in my hair, I laid my head on your right broad shoulder Believing it to be worth it Invariably
Love poem: Grey sky lifespans (delicate) [continued]
Eighteen captured photographs on film Of me – pathetic, alive, detailed In sudden gaps I see again my personal agency And how if you’ll come with me
Butterflies will sign documents Stating they no longer want such short lifespans
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
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