Poem: Seasonal cherries (displacement)

Poem: Seasonal cherries (displacement)

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.

Poem: Seasonal cherries (displacement) [continued]

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

Poem: Seasonal cherries (displacement) [continued]

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

Poem: Seasonal cherries (displacement) [continued]

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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Love poem: Sweetness in February

Love poem: Sweetness in February

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.

Valentine’s Day is coming up…!!!!

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Poem: Haunted

Poem: Haunted

I step outside
Of the curtain lining
To tell you the truth
But you’ve already gone to work

I step outside
To my midsummer garden
Cos it’s all about myself
In my own little world

And in my opinion, it wasn’t meant to be
I see it in the palms of my hands
See it in the trees
But looking at past daydreams
I so wanted it to be
A universe where things could work out for me (playing the victim?)

Poem: Haunted (continued)

In the grand scheme of things
They’re always listening
Don’t pay much attention to it cos I spend my days dreaming
Future apartments with bay windows
New acrylic nail salons
Runs with my dog on Lake Shore Drive

You could have just told me
Though you did in your own way
I made sure to
Curl up in a blanket
I didn’t cry at first
But then the weekend came
I was tangled and interwoven into you and me again

You should have just
Taken it out on me
You should’ve just –
You should’ve just –
But you stopped yourself.
I don’t get how
You didn’t take it out on me
You should’ve –
You should’ve –
But you stopped yourself.

Poem: Haunted (continued)

In an arboretum I found truly my favourite flowers
Next few hours, you grew so bored, I thought you would fall straight into your hands
The thorns from the castle drains would
Stop to tell you that
This wasn’t exactly
Part of her plan.
I grew quite timid
Wasn’t born to be an alarm clock
So I let you sleep the next day while I did my own thing
The thing was, it was my birthday
And anyone knows that can have meaning
So it isn’t worth the frame-worked lawsuit
The heavy weight in my mind

You shouldn’t have
Taken it out on me
I thought we were different people
Living new lives, so it seemed.
You shouldn’t have chosen
To take it out on me
I thought we had become new
In the grand scheme of things.

Poem: Haunted (continued)

Fortune surrounds you
So I’m in a blanket
Wishing you well in skyscraper heaven.
If you turned around,
To retrieve your belongings –

My apartment would be empty,
But it would still be haunted.

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Love poem: If you could, just, sing to me

Love poem: If you could, just, sing to me

My day in the blistering sunshine
I wish your hand was latched onto mine
Except when you held it too tight, it hurt, and I said nothing because I was engulfed in the ivory, acrylic paint of the walls
I wish you could soothe me like you do your male friends

I got, rather presumptive
I thought we could make it work because it felt so worth it
Like the tides would change & our circumstances wouldn’t get the best of us
When I fell into old subservient patterns,
That I thought I wouldn’t
I said, screw it
We could work through it
But the tables that turned against me had thorns
My blood wasn’t well & I was increasingly worn
Down by the extent of which, I wanted it to work
A violent but quiet discomposure

Love poem: If you could, just, sing to me (continued)

Down by the bayside
I’ll never forget when an acoustic version of a song I loved in middle school (still do) came on
You threw your head back and sang so softly
I found it mildly alarming how awfully charming
And crisply ambient the evening felt right then and there
My eyes started to tear, and I wiped them real fast
I thought if it could be like this, we’d be golden
Nothing to take & everything to give
That is the drawback to my diplomacy
It doesn’t quite work out for me

Now I’m basking in the feverish sunshine
Hearing the lyrics in my mind
How true they conform to the set of conditions that unveiled my gentle but muted position
I wanted all of it to feel just like that
Right then and there, I was far too aware
That you are a beautiful human being only when you get what you want

Love poem: If you could, just, sing to me (continued)

But I can’t always play the right song
And moments in passing affect my brain far too strong
I latch on

If we could have just stayed at that stop light forever
We would’ve made it work
If you could have sang lullabies to lull me to sleep
We still couldn’t have made it work

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Poem: Four thoughts (Chicago dandelions)

Poem: Four thoughts (Chicago dandelions)

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

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