I cut the chrysanthemum flowers, and you ruffle through my drawers Pigeon blue and staining through You cut your losses Roll over onto the pink duvet cover You look beautiful on my bed Like you just got out of the shower Like you’ll finally let me hold you Sweet dreams for a nap You can have it like that Autumn is approaching soon, and your eyes are sparkling brown I’m going to find their distinct shade in the leaves of the fall Up to heaven’s gate, we can have it all I think you have somebody to call
Evenings Frostbite The way we fight Like water holding the boat afloat Like your friends and everyone else you know Stay here in the shade with rare sun rays reaching your chest and shedding light You need something bright Something that fits you To keep up with your wild attention span That pays itself its dues
You, my boy that lies beside me Neutral palette, got it down I love when you take me around town It’s nice when the evenings come around
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
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
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Sometimes I look at, my flowers that have died And I find them more beautiful than when they were alive.
Last year, my family got the most beautiful, dark-green noble fir Christmas tree we ever had In a pop-up parking lot full of his friends I personally found him more appealing before he was decorated Then I cut 6 inches off my hair No more split ends
Love poem: Sweetness in February (continued)
Somebody stole our Christmas ornaments from the car The little cute animals my mother and I laughed about when we saw them in a store forever ago I hope they felt happy in their new home, Wherever they ended up, I just hope they weren’t disposed.
Some people – you start to feel disposable to them, Like the sweetness you carry doesn’t bear any weight, Like it means nothing that whatever stories they tell you, will never be shared with a single soul Not used as small talk to break the ice Never told at “parties” That I imagine I’d be attending with my future lover because other people have families & other people have friends & other people have obligations & events Birthdays to attend & other people might wonder why I’m not there, and I want to be more than polite for I’m awfully curious About that sort of life. I pretend I’m not but, I really am.
Love poem: Sweetness in February (continued)
I didn’t want you for your money or what you promised me I was just so calm when I would laugh with you You introduced me to emojis Now I use them constantly You’re well aware I love cuteness I know you favour my modesty Something got in our way You may not want to admit it was from both sides I never knew you that well Though of course I still cried
Come to my front gate Wait in front of your car I’ll wear the outfit I picked out At the very start
Come to my front gate To see me, now I’ll wear full-on sweats So you have nothing to think about
Love poem: Sweetness in February (continued)
But I know you a little more than I think I do Who knows if I’ll ever find out if that’s true I know you a tiny bit more than you think you do Who knows if you’ll ever understand that it’s true
Sometimes I look at, my flowers that have died And I find them more beautiful than when they were alive.
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