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
We were sitting in the sun, Both so much in love, But you and I are both loners. We can’t touch each other right now. Be there for each other right now. We’re independent and self-made. We are mirrors of each other, and it breaks my heart too.
I hope you think of me when you see pickup trucks lifted up high, Pink acrylic nails touching your thigh Listening to Lana Del Rey with the top of the convertible down, That’s me. That’s always me. That’ll always be me in your memory.
You can tell your friends you’re over it & I’ll tell mine the exact same But you’ll hear country music playing somewhere outside You know things will never be the same
Poem: Boy-crazy (dollhouse) [continued]
I am never getting out of here. This dollhouse that you shoved me into With the rosebushes and everything that you know I liked. You shoved me in because you wanted me to stay with you But I had other plans and I screamed out, But it sounded like sand. I didn’t wanna be in your dollhouse Shoved by you.
But you say to me, I thought you were boy crazy aren’t you boy crazy I thought you were boy crazy but you say to me I thought you were boy crazy aren’t you boy crazy I thought you were boy crazy but you say to me
Don’t you like bad boys I said no I said no I said no
Listen, I like lifted trucks Flowers on my doorstep for when you can’t see me in person And you gave me none of that None of that None of that But I still wanted all of you, like, all of that So, is it selfish for us to part like dandelions? I could see it arriving with the wind, I saw it in my dreams beforehand.
I was tossing and turning; I couldn’t even sleep and knew it was coming through the dark side of my teeth. And you were waiting at the seams Trying to break it with scissors, cos you thought that was funny, didn’t you? A Hyundai ionic waiting in front of my gate, No, that wasn’t you – I came to you Take me back to the past, where our promises would last. And it wasn’t all a lie, It was your fantasy It was your fantasy
Love poem: Fits me better [continued]
To be with me, Your fantasy To be with me, Your fantasy Came crumbling, and I am underneath the Earth’s peripheral atmosphere To be with me Your fantasy I thought I saw you waiting for me, but it was all a bad dream You were waiting at the seams With scissors in your hands to cut the ribbon because you thought it was funny. Cos you thought it was so funny
You took my flesh, but not my bone. You sat there with scissors ready to cut a ribbon in front of my white sclera You took my flesh, but not my bone. He sat there with the ribbon ready to cut open my sclera.
Love poem: Fits me better [continued]
Did you want to see the back of my eyeballs because I didn’t expect for myself to fall in love with a fantasy In love with a fantasy,
Did you wanna see the back of my eyeballs? I fell in love with a fantasy That’s all you are to me Did you wanna see the back of my eyeballs with a ribbon ready to cut my white sclera Because you somehow thought it was funny
I stole your favourite emoji Because it fits me better.
Thank you for reading! I run and own my website by myself. Please support my art by donating here: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/lilacdoveCA
Poem delivery service
Receive email updates of poems as they’re published.
I can’t stop running In my night terrors, fever dreams castles atop hills adjacent mountains overlooking my horizon – my bleak path that has dimensions I can’t rise high enough to admire nor withstand.
Shirt on that says ‘cherry’ How cute am I, really? How amicable I am in both public and in private It’s a blue poem; let’s get ready for the skyrocket I like the font, too Of your handwritten note It makes me want to put on my winter coat Slide inside a mound of snow just because, just because? Just because.
Poem: Ballerina (night terrors) [continued]
Want to begin again, begin getting up earlier Make my life a living portraiture That I can close my eyes and find out later If I lived it well enough, The generativity versus stagnation phase That’ll be me someday. I’ll find myself in daisies Perpetually in bloom, perpetually in bloom
The shadows of the clouds How is the wavelength possible that I can see this through my rods & cones – Sharp like lightning, Frustrated like a little kid I’m in favour of you, darling Come, hold me tighter than anything. You’ll be safe, always In my soft, kind smile, & delicate arms You know, I used to be a ballerina.
Poem: Ballerina (night terrors) [continued]
I used to have poise & ignored all the boys Growing up must have sucked the life out of me.
You know, I used to be a ballerina I was so beautiful back then I still get night terrors
Poem delivery service
Receive email updates of poems as they’re published.
He decided impromptu to get away for the weekend I couldn’t even call him up Kept my sentiments busy with the peonies, the sword ferns, the garden, Difficult to look in the driveway & not see that matte-black, lifted truck
The cold, crescent, fever dream blues that surrounded me I allowed them to peer into my skin My delicate green veins from my light beige skin tone I tried to catch him on the telephone Though, I had no indication of where to begin.
I almost loved him, I think Did say it by unintentionally a few times Was I so wrong to confuse distance with association I believe I was right – though I still paid the fine
And now truly, with all his irresolute conviction He tells me he wants to be together Well, boy do I have news for a man of your cadence The thought requires me to hold on to one or four of your sweaters
I’m falling somewhere, but I don’t know where Look down from the sky & I really don’t care I’m falling somewhere, but I really don’t care He’ll say it back to me when he’s least aware
I believe I was right I paid the fine I believe I was correct Wrong place, right time
Cherry trees only grow in certain seasons People do what they do for their own reasons I am porcelain and snow and almond sweet But I’d die in a living-room suite
Knowing that peonies only bloom in late spring to early summer Exact timing depends on variety, location, and climate Cherries come in season in late spring to early summer So for now, I’ll just be quiet
I own, manage, and publish to my website all by myself, so I would so much appreciate it if you donated to support my craft: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/lilacdoveCA
Poem delivery service
Receive email updates of poems as they’re published.
