Everything is sun-kissed because there’s a glow in the sky Cos I don’t have the patience to write an entire album about just one guy Can you feel me clinging to your new clothes? Before you insert yourself inside of them Taint the black Tar-boiled trap Tell me you like the sound of my name Lie to me all over again I ain’t writing an album about just one guy Held in importance but forgotten in spirit I’ve got to keep living
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 subscribe/soundcloud portion. xx
Love poem: Casualties
We were driving alongside an emerald beach and I was Filming a TikTok video of the water, as the waves reached a height that Didn’t scare me, and suddenly I looked down & there was water in the car We were driving through the water I could breathe I couldn’t breathe I could breathe I was asleep I couldn’t breathe Like dandelions Picked at the wrong time
There were no problems And we were free Free to be ourselves, free to get wrapped up in each other Not constrained by the world propaganda or what’s playing on the news Television set out of our reach (Do you even own a television?) Keyboard in the kitchen sink Fragrant butterflies
Nape of your neck Upset stomach Belly aches for you
There have been nothing but problems Just me tossed up in you, cradled like the darkest blue Until we wake up Foggy skies, hear me out I’m well familiar with ambivalence Am very good at counting chirality centers in molecules Though, when the numbers are in front of me I wonder if in a different life I could add them up and find you, again We’d be soft and innocent Like dandelion breath I wouldn’t have to bruise your ego
What would you do Blank, empty face I’m well familiar Can sequence a genome, but can’t figure out how to tell a boy that I wanted to be the place he calls home
(He’d know if he read my poetry He’d know if he was in love with me)
Figment of my imagination Heart palpitations Misguided communication On repeat, wouldn’t dare to press rewind Fast-forward through the archive of my mind A baby that takes several years to be born Fully formed A landscape of an intoxicating tornado with a sunny portrayal of graciousness
What are you indebted for? When you’re not standing at my front door Blue ribbons in my hair A long, pink, satin dress that I Planned For the Occasion
Where I Would be Alone With my patience Watching little kids chase after their parents Watching little kids chase after their Watching little kids chase after Watching little
Kids holding rose petals Speaking in Spanish that I understand Now How We Were
Meant to fall apart so casually
Just like that We go back To the places we call home And we pretend To not Care
Drawing soft pink porcelain dolls Make every word of yours important If you’re speaking with purpose The chaos in this dark room It makes me nervous But when I’m touching you Like peach pink amphetamines You push something onto me that makes me breathe
For a second there For just a minute I lost my breath
For just a second there For quite a minute I’ve become oblivious
I get excited for a hot second Come out with guns blazing So self-aware, peach pit You like the way I serenade you Dance around you in top-secret chambers Untold, leaving it untold Don’t get anything for free Write whatever I want It’s my heart, I forgot It’s my heart, I forgot You make me soft
Put some Salsa on and I’ll show you my moves What I keep in my medicine cabinet I’m made of Cabernet red I’ll drink you in three sips Balsamic vinaigrette Anything that rhymes with your safety net I’m lying by the pool God I feel so cool Looking at you Cabernet red
I’m kicking and screaming I don’t want you to spend the night Yeah, I’ll be alright I’m kicking and screaming Introverted I don’t want you to stay the night I’m kicking and screaming Introverted Red t shirt
You don’t make me nervous I have these soft lips Amphetamines for fingertips Intoxicating, isn’t it
a free verse poem about finding stability & self-acceptance
I know That things won’t work out as planned I know that Because my mother taught me how to be a man But there are Parts of me that won’t let someone hold my hand Because I Because I Find graveyards appealing Harsh winter thunderstorms healing And the chaos within you is quite often revealing Of the doom and dismay your surroundings convey The filth The agony The dreams others built for you become destroyed I’m my own person
But when I drive home at night I don’t feel alone I just know I am
It was cold in Chicago And I wanted to lay down In the snow My frail body Seldom appears melancholy Singing you songs, breathlessly, to you in your sleep Though my voice is never the right pitch Maybe that’s why I wait Until you hit your steady dream state An abyss of perpetual ignorance to moral obligations
The impatience Is testing me Like a ticking clock Telling me I Haven’t painted The sky quite right Haven’t gotten the stars To my audience’s delight And I think I might combust From the tainted, porcelain figure I often wish to set on fire Because what burns Feels so warm In winter
It’s almost February The anniversary of A thousand slumbers A rainfall that struck me like Lightning on the fast lane on the highway Swerving between cars with my eyes closed Thinking I’m oh – I’m just so composed But me, parchment paper thick, practically comatose Wouldn’t keep anyone up at night When you haven’t Made a name For yourself And nobody Gets the intonation In your full name quite right Maybe it’s not The right time To say
That what burns feels so warm In winter My god The shades of blue How I’d devour the skyline Like an arsonist, I fade to grey Along with the trembling cityscape
I encapsulate all the seasons & am easily forgotten
I only hope to properly portray The vacancy light in this hotel I occupy
Me, Against the wall Cold, doll-like, confused Fingertips Painted the lightest shade of pink that the nail salon could offer me If only, I could be elegant I could like parts of myself that others don’t I could live my life like My father envisioned
When he said to me
That I was born In the perfect season For a girl who prolongs Finding a reason To burn this place down to the ground
Hollow Cave Where my old journals remain Where ex-boyfriends mispronounce my last name They never remember the best parts of you They never really knew How to get through How your eyes turn dark green when your favourite song comes on Or when the colour temperature is five thousand Kelvin and I feel ashamed That I woke up to find Myself Not in embers But filling a body With wholeness that only
Real self-acceptance could develop and create
Something permanent Is never Found
I’m no good with directions but I don’t believe I’m lost I’m exactly On my own two feet Waiting To leave a message after the beep
But I hang up, because I remember They can’t pronounce my last name The intonation Is weak And I Am so Much farther than I thought I would be At this time of my life Are you, at all, surprised?
When I look At the cars Passing me by On the highway, I wonder If they’re going Somewhere warm and inviting
I don’t know why That To me Feels so terribly frightening
Free verse love poem: Speaking volumes (white florals)
I’m in the pool, with your gentle gaze moving toward the horizon Smooth riverbeds, crashing yet Solemn Tender in their collapsing wake My sovereign ways trap you like hurricanes Find slumber in the rectitude of my rendition of a classic painting of a Prince attending to a young queen Dismayed at her place, though in a quiet peace, That glances violently towards a moral upbringing A softness I couldn’t portray
The Dressing of the Favorite (1857), oil on canvas, by Henri Pierre Picou (French, 1824-1895)
A sea-foam fog dynasty I swore was mine I told you the truth It mattered to me I found thoughts in my mind that I couldn’t hold back, entirely Though I did my best, To provide you with rest My satin sheath, vibrant with scarlet cardinal fibers The delicate breeze, like rapture Golden but never, truth be told, reflecting lightning that makes marks in the sky A tribute to no one Is every structure soon to fall down? The bolts unfastened, my lace dress & ultramarine form A silhouette only God could have created A boldness that scares away anyone who isn’t Strong enough To hold a woman in his arms and Not want to change her
The light pink August calendar I have on my contemporary glass tabletop That forgot the date when we Began things Paved was our course with giving looks at each other like we’re in a vintage film A theatre for just the two of us Hopeful dedication Watching our past conversations and having new conversations about those from before We don’t run out of things to talk about But when you find me watching the cars on the road pass by us, viciously, Counting the trucks Taking note of their model and make You see something in me that I could not tell you Not because I can’t find the right words I always find the right words
Along the Siene, Winter (1887) by Frederick Childe Hassam (American impressionist painter, 1859-1935)
I don’t know what you know And I don’t know if you know me But when your gaze becomes increasingly familiar, I cascade into a Reflection interrupted by the silliest words you stream together A childlike ambiance, golden in accuracy Crisp like a wave’s current Interjected with passing a cigarette lighter Getting higher From rays of the subtle light of day, Muted only in temperament Dulcet on the edges I told you I was yours I meant it, of course
Le Baiser (The Kiss) (commissioned by the French state in 1888, carved between 1888-98) by Auguste Rodin (French sculptor, 1840-1917)
We stop at the gas station; you run in to the corner store; you bring me honey green tea For your girl (that is a friend) Patient and kind A dove’s brisk white feathers Softer than mankind Rougher than a woman’s fingertips Comfortable in the chaos Surrendering to a time when you could count the green specks in my eyes And smell my white floral perfume
It seems as of now we have moved on to the Heavens Where you call me Venus And I mistake you for someone I’ve never known before An oceanic climate to the boulders we create When we feel inclined to say Why do I like you so much? Why do I like when you’re rough? I do still find, thinking to myself, whether I’m good enough But when the porch light comes on, I move the thought along To the binder where I keep my disarrayed opinions Resolving to find Some water to allow My throat to stop tightening when I get up during the night Patience, my ever-present accomplishment, finds its way to you Presenting an elegance you couldn’t get from anyone else
Improvisation (1899) by Frederick Childe Hassam (1859-1935), oil on canvas
I find myself in spaces When you are absent Distress being transient Because your face is
A discernment I couldn’t get from anyone else
The Aleutian mountains and the disintegrating cliffs Couldn’t mask the foundation I thought we’d bring Resolving to find Some water to allow
My throat to stop closing when I sleep at night I wonder if styrofoam composure could fail to observe my fright To weave in serenity in light shades of pink,
On days like today, I’m unsure how to drink Come, lay in bed
