Soft shoulder of the exit ramp Sweet cream silk, ivory white velvet dream Sitting and smoking with you on the fire escape We look at the horizon Our eyes like they’ve been set on fire Keeping quiet to not create commotion on the 18th floor
Move lightly like a ghost That haunts me the most Pure daylight, fresh berries, blueberry soy milkshake for two Freeze me in the frozen section I will come back alive To haunt you like in the horror thrillers they do
My voice gets high-pitched When I talk to you on the telephone In the evenings
My voice gets high-pitched Cos I’m excited when you call me on the telephone In the evenings
Love poem: Ivory white, dark pants (continued)
Sweet cream silk, ivory white velvet dream Pour raspberry sauce on vegan soy ice cream I have you, in a soft yellow light I wouldn’t find hospitable for my academia Though, your brown eyes, light up like fresh veins And I take hold of your upright shoulders
On purpose By habit A fragrant Flower My doorstep Your dark pants
Love poem: Ivory white, dark pants (continued)
Sweet cream silk sweater for your ivory white velvet dream We move like feathers, but our names have been etched into stone First, middle, and last First, middle, and last Holding my breath Writing on your cast
First, middle, and last The most perfect fire escape I’d smoke next to you every day
I saw, I saw that you were beckoning for the sea (Told me you couldn’t swim, told me you couldn’t swim) I stood there, pink ribbons in my hair, on an off-white, paint-faded ship Thinking oh man, oh man He thinks I’m going to dive in and save him
When I unravel, I am Terrified Of turning into you I spit and scratch the walls so loud I’m scared the world Is made of you I stick my tongue out At the wrong crowd Oh my god, I’m so alone I come bleeding To the ER They say, I should just go home
I don’t want this to stop Me from meeting someone That would love bringing me flowers By my bedside when I deeply sleep I’ll never wake up To daffodils If you’re staying up late Working on your manuscript
I hate your brown eyes Because that’s my type I don’t want this to stop Me from meeting someone I stick my tongue out At the wrong crowd Oh my god, I felt so completely alone I stared at My stupid phone Like a teen Like a naive little Teen
I secretly, I secretly think you liked it all along Pulling me left just to wreck the boat Spilling my champagne and me nervously blaming it On the musculature of my skeletal framework What a girl, what awful weather To spend with someone who’s complaining, had me thinking, “this is actually my favourite kind” Lightning bolts When the sky collapses like it’s angry And bitter Writing poetry Months after I secretly, I secretly think you adore all of this You’d throw me to the eels if I didn’t know how to swim
But it was you deep down under the pouring, crashing waves Tormenting your most refined, well-calculated grace And I am one of the best swimmers this Earth has ever seen But there came a moment where I could no longer see Then, I could breathe, and you couldn’t hate me for it So in love with the delusional chaos of the ocean Oh, you hate it, oh, you must hate it That I have a God that knows my full name
You think religion is a brainwashing force Well, I think you over-dry your skin-tight clothes I ran so hard I almost collapsed, and I started to laugh So free, so free, should have seen me finally feel so free Not attached to memories Oh, you must hate it That I can be my own blanket That I can be a saviour That I don’t need a faux promise or a parched favour
I saw you, perched over, frightened of the waves You said let’s just leave, save this for another day I pushed you in because I trusted the Earth To swallow you whole and make you Comfortable
That was a battle I truly lost But God loves me, oh, you must have forgot
You must have forgot, What a terrible thought That I can be taken care of by something that’ll cleanse my brain
We were watching King of the Hill And oh my God, I miss your laugh The gleam in your off-shadow hazel eyes I want it to come right back I wish we could go back in time to having everything That was really all I wanted You- I will never know, the records you don’t share with company The places you go when you fall sleep
I wanted, to lay down my study materials On your teenage-flannel-style twin bed My God, I miss the whiteboard on your wall Reading all the strange things you write in your childlike handwriting I felt reserved over a handful minus one of four nights Held them damn near so close I would get tongue-tied, just trying to make conversation with a cashier at the grocery store
Behind my eyes, blinking – in time-lapse frames Your smile like a diamond without that discomforting glare You were my centrepiece, and I was quiet as a soft stone, and I liked that Not yet realizing how far-fetched it was of a thought that I could keep you Where you are And be there, too (Just a thought)
Love poem: Asleep (daylight) [continued]
Oh my God, you swallowed me whole I looked forward to the weekend like I never had in my teenage years All I ever did back then, was dance around my living room like I had friends You widened my gaze and we created our own place Where teenage-flannel for a thirty-something was awfully inviting and I Never cared or considered that you weren’t romantic My God, I loved being with you Like I was of no importance You took centre stage and you painted me a grave It looked just like it does in the magazines
You went down, so far down There was no way to follow you I would have, if I could have Was not under the impression that a few bad days would turn into half a decade Panic attacks because I couldn’t reach down and grab you Shake you, wake you Get you out of this rancid, deeply isolating dream Say something like, hey, (maybe this is really nothing)
It wouldn’t have helped Because my wishes were far-fetched
Love poem: Asleep (daylight) [continued]
But to this day, I don’t know if you’ll make it To be like what you created When you first said hello to me, “So, um, who are you?” So, so, so, so, so in love with you (Are you kidding me?)
Fresh piece of pastel paint It’s archaic – the cinema is I remember, we were watching a movie I got so scared You made fun of me with distant disposition and cruelty In that split second, I developed this pit in my stomach That you no longer were capable of comforting me Whatever pulled me towards you in the beginning, was not based on effort The film was playing, and I felt like crying Crawled to the kitchen and wanted to crawl out of the window So terrified of what had become of a bruised reality
Image generated for me using DALL-E by Erik Huerta (@Erikismissing on Instagram)
Love poem: Asleep (daylight) [continued]
Can never get right, on paper The hypnotic daze that expands in my most cherished memories “So, um, who are you?” So attached to that phrase Teenage-minded girl Hopeful in a self-defeating mannerism It leads me to wonder It keeps me awake
What if it was a dream? What if it was all fake? Best Cabernet Sauvignon I’ve ever had in my life I could have slept for days
We were watching our favourite show And oh my God, I miss your laugh Waking up to you, hiding from daylight Should have ripped off the curtains and made you face it
Love poem: Asleep (daylight) [continued]
Please Come back To this life
There is A girl Who cares
But I can’t come down That far To meet you Where you sleep
In shallow pools, I still grieve There is nobody to wake me
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
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
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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