Poem: Your short poem

Poem: Your short poem

I’m going to write a short poem for you
Because your attention span in regard to me is dim, like my light
Like species survival in the afternoons by the Caribbean seas
Like a sunset that I swallowed because I was hungry and cold
How you lit me a half-broken cigarette, said I was engaging and bold
You shined your white teeth and like heaven I was sold

I took a section of your brain to look for “Fos” proteins to see which neurons were active
And I saw a glimpse of you and me on the playground
You were wearing blue jeans
Grass stains and all
I was wearing a pink gown like I was dressed for the ball
We were talking about being together and having it all
The wind blew
I got cold
You cradled me like a baby
Asked me to move in with you, I said screw you, maybe
I was so happy
I gleamed
Loyal like a preteen
So high on amphetamines
You kissed me on Seafoam boulevard, amongst the serene
By the ocean, strawberry cream lotion
Patches of snow, circles of rainfall
I’m in love with how you’re seventy-four inches tall
You call me graceful, for I’m patient and small
Call me once, just one phone call

Arachnoid hematomas
So thin you could see through my veins
Put me on the back of your bike, make me hold you real tight
Heaven shines in my eyes, it’s fluorescent and bright
White cerebral wave light
The stars and the apocalyptic tides
The places where my sensitivities hide

In your harsh but kind gaze I reside, and I don’t know why, I don’t know why

I wanted to write you a short poem
Because I can’t forget how much you mean to me
So I put words together, loosely, and tied them with a silver string
I asked you to light me up in the dark
But your attention span in regard to me is dim
Like my light

There is a light that always goes out

Poem: Surface tension (poolside dreams)

I saw the skinniest girls at the pool today
They were all bone, with graceful flat stomachs
I started to hate myself again
And I considered if
Maybe I was going too far
Maybe they have scars to hide too
But I traced their gentle bodies with my disturbing eyes
And I couldn’t find a somber disguise
Or any evidence that they hate themselves too

Maybe I didn’t look deep enough
What’s on the surface conceals what’s underneath

I toss and turn wildly in my bedsheets
And maybe the spaces of my ribs and the lights in-between
No longer shine, no longer gleam
I look dirty even when I’m entirely clean
I try to smile, but I can’t hold back that I’m so, so mean

They splashed each other while in the water
I knew if I smiled I’d only bother
But maybe they were growing sick of each other
At that point, I’d be a newfound lover
But when it rains it decays what’s left of me
I only feel blissful when I’m swimming in the sea (I feel like it’s a part of me)
I am opalescent in matters of blue
Your favourite shades of Hunter green
Writing poetry with a ruptured spleen
I miss being a fragile and innocent young teen
Didn’t stop you from touching me

Didn’t stop you from touching me
You claimed that you were teaching me
But my skin turned dark like you were leaching me
I’d have the strongest, most bizarre of nightmares
Wake up sweating, alone, and scared
A modest, timid girl
Too small to be bared
You dragged my body up the crystallized stairs

What’s on the surface conceals what’s underneath
When the gun started firing, the bed I hid beneath
Is it always as rosy as the daydream makes it seem?
My God, being dead sounds so fucking serene

My God, being dead sounds so fucking serene

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Poem: Elysian space dust IPA






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Peony photograph by Elle ©