West Dale Palms boulevard Clover avenue I go to the grocery store And I run right into you Ask me how things are back home Do your days ever feel terribly long I say, I have to go Think I know the place where I belong
Hollywood, Los Angeles at dusk Her perfume smelled like camellias that bloom in November They look just like roses, so naturally I’m obsessed Swing the door open to a settled fire, Capture in my hands: tiny, soft embers Collapsing into moonlight, but Cradled like dust I’ll be strong for both of us If I must
Love poem: Grocery store [continued]
You have to feed your nostalgia sometimes It’s really the only way that you’ll survive It’s how you keep the dreams alive It’s the only way they’ll see you on the other side
West Dale Palms boulevard Clover avenue When I go to the grocery store I always look for you
You know, we grew up with nothing I found such obscurities so luxurious My life was so simple Eerily simple Because every wrong turn meant More chaos Bewilderment Not the delicate kind But fine for my patient mind
Driving a lifted pickup truck has changed who I am It made me more myself than I ever knew before. I’ve become real acquainted with different types of screwdrivers. And I remember when my daddy would hot-wire all the cars on the street That didn’t stop him from feeling absolutely everything Cross necklace on my clavicle to remind me of what that means to me
Poem: Sitting by the fire (happy birthday) [continued]
As the sun was setting after I exited the nail salon, I saw four separate chemtrails moving in cable-thin directions, Combusting as a whole constellation. I’m in love with my dark, dark, dark green eyes
Drove down Venice Boulevard, and it reminded me of being thirteen, When everyone my age made fun of me, but my father insisted that I was a queen And that to me held much more meaning
Trying to buy sour patch at the liquor store, but they’d kicked me out cause I didn’t have Proper identification Now I find myself in my new life and I’m feeling so Impatient. Because this life isn’t going as planned and I have to switch gears I’ll tell you all about it, But each passing day I find myself facing new fears. For you And myself, too! Because that’s what I do.
Poem: Sitting by the fire (happy birthday) [continued]
Curled up in a blanket, Watching television and drinking tea While upper-class people go on holiday, I just be where I be.
I’ve got a smile so warm we don’t need a fireplace
& I miss the long summer days Biking throughout our small town My dad beside me, laughing, as I swam against the Current of the waves Making sure I didn’t drown I know it in my being that he is still around Like the lights descending from the helicopter When I’m taking photographs of downtown
Poem: Sitting by the fire (happy birthday) [continued]
I miss quiet times with tea Ukrainian pears that are overwhelmingly sweet And if you get close to me, You’ll have to bear with me Because I see beauty in absolutely everything.
Like a rocket ship constructed out of Legos, I’ll be there if anything were to break The vibrant sunlight hitting my retinas while I’m driving, I’ve fully realized this is my life to make.
I don’t take for granted That people don’t offer second chances But I’m forgiving like an animal that knows you didn’t mean it
Poem: Sitting by the fire (happy birthday) [continued]
And I mean it
I love Absolutely Everything The fiber of my being The freedom inherent in walking Around a small town that was yours and now it’s become
A breeding ground for memories That I will never let go.
Happy birthday, dad You were so warm we didn’t need a Fireplace
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.
I own, perform maintenance on, and of course write all of my poetry by myself – and any amount could really help keep the dream alive! https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/lilacdoveCA
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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 SoundCloud portion. I didn’t like the Push notification service, so I’m working on a new email newsletter for updates. xx
Love poem: Initials inscribed
I think I got a good one Don’t want to let him go But silk and satin separate here That’s really all I know
Got a gun in my purse I’m walking on the haunted hills I don’t mean to tell offbeat jokes But I like the way it makes you feel
Wavering and wandering, I can’t even see straight When I throw a dagger, I don’t know where it goes I don’t want to see red, but I’m so in love with colour Vivid, I like it vivid, I like the deep blues That scare you I’ve been there too Afraid to be in my own skin So I can try yours on Tailor it just right to fit you Give it to you back clean, with only my initials inscribed Between your clavicles in cursive font This is the way the world spins What are you waiting for, just get in Breathe a little bit in the boiling river with me
I can take you to I can take you to the brink of insanity Though you’ll find it’s more apricot and mesh than you could have dreamed I know what’s on the other side Flown there a billion times The places I don’t know, yeah they’re calling for me I can take you to the edge of insanity Show you how blooming and lovely it feels
A beach of all rocks, I’m made of charcoal – this much I know I’ll be your stepping stone When you find yourself alone and feel like nobody’s on the line Oh, I’ll come on by I drive faster than all the vehicles on the highway combined Immeasurable, transferable, soft with elegance and no hint of dismay I’m etched into the clouds for you Yeah, I’ll be there for you Show you a world that’s clandestine and brand new Got it on lock
I tailor my own skin So that it fits me just right So that when you look my way You see me in just the right light
Lie down on this river bed with me There’s no future, there’s no past There is only the space We occupy For the night
And if We separate I’ll have Pushed you In the direction you were heading anyway
Sweet boy Nothing to be scared of You know that You know that Don’t you now
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 SoundCloud portion. I’m currently testing a Push notification application. xx
Poem: A million shelves
A maroon carcass that rests gently on the edge of the seashore Fresh propane tank Exclusively at your local corner store Wearing my baby blue doll dress Headaches from thinking about it
What we’ve been through I see it in the corners of this melting igloo Turn up the temperature Sit on the fire escape, heavenly embrace Homemade campfire, fire burning up your home As the water droplets cascade down I see fiber nectar start to turn upside down
Look through the hole on your door To see who’s been knocking all night long Cut the stems from fresh flowers in that old vase Hasn’t lost its sparkle The years are like lightning cables, but I’m so stable Looking through the hole in my door To see who’s been scraping at my windshield all night long
Such a romantic scene, velvet slippers & cleaning-service-fresh satin Mop up discarded memories I aim to please, I aim to please Now I put myself first And the whole world is to burn Too busy listening to jazz to look through the hole in the door You can leave a note You can leave a note
Notebook paper by my bedside Ash covers my deep green eyes You’d think I’d be surprised That disks of memories still replay in my mind While I drive in the rain Smiling, smiling all the way Thunder shifting my car Absolving into the reminisce that is the end of this year
Turn up the temperature Sit on the fire escape You tell people not to do what you really want them to Leave a note Leave a note
Be the bigger man Nine minutes until the fan Turns off for the evening & I’m left to writhe in this heat
Look after me Don’t look behind yourself when you walk down the street Holding a pomegranate smoothie Writing my website in sharpie on street signs
Be the bigger man Cradle your face in your hands Turn up the temperature Turn off the faucet Sit on the fire escape Leave a note and then toss it
The trash can that held a million versions of your most real self
