I think of you, all the time- I really can’t help the hold you’ve put on me Chrysanthemums and roses To make my living place Look like it has an ounce of life residing in these four-chambered walls
Time is not, on my side Because I love you even more now than I did before Nobody has, the same grey hairs you do Same fearless aptitude Concerned look when I walk in the room You’re a lily growing in a field surrounded by vastness and open skies
I could cry The scariest thing about love, is that it cannot be replaced I remember looking at your face And knowing things will be okay, regardless if you were to turn away If I’m left in the dust, I’ll roll in it and breathe it in Draw elaborate diagrams of my lung damage because anatomy is my second language I miss your tooth enamel
On a Saturday, almost-afternoon Everything is perfect And I am crying, sipping my coffee Thinking that time has done nothing but grow my love for you
It’s so strong, like a branch that will never snap I wonder if you’ll ever figure out I love you like that
He tells me Not to get too excited As we sit alongside the deep-blue riverbed But me – I’ve been counting down the days I saw my chamomile flowers bloom, then close, and fall apart in the duration of one week As I hadn’t changed the water I was distracted by the sparkle Of the morning’s horizon As it painted me in shades of pink I couldn’t quite capture on film
California outlawed flavoured vape products I know, I’m mourning it heavily Now I find myself smoking non-menthol cigarettes in my parking lot Like my father did, in his Amber tones of his skin shining like Diamonds you pick back up from the jewelry store That line your blue-tinted watch with a brand painted in cursive ink Like your mother’s Russian handwriting Soft in all of the Roughest places
My afternoon gaze is Thick with gloom and hope, both at the same time I’m wrapped in my navy ‘Windy City’ sweater that I bought at a Walgreens Where it took four cashiers to properly ring up my alcoholic drink, too Because the cashiers were mostly underage But we were on the same page Laughing about how liquor makes the turbulent flight go smoothly And how I’ll wrap myself in bridal magazines and read the new Forbes “thirty under thirty” list Knowing I won’t make it on there in less than three years Cutoffs are so harsh, isn’t it maddening Life is so funny sometimes, at the right times I’ll fade to November grey like a collapsing sky I’ll lay my head down and never, ever wonder why I’ll endure the gradual passage of time
He adjusted his collar And we laughed about who is taller Because me, my small frame, I take up so little of space Though I feel like if I spread my fingertips, they’ll reach the mountains Surrounded by cherry stems and cascading fountains Waterfalls along the trail where my senior terrier walks on her own self-created path My glimmer of hope in this brittle, dark night Made for a hollow tin of little coloured cards stolen from the paint store Where we wrote our biggest dreams on Gathering the courage to set them on fire And not intending to burn down the park grounds down with our miniature vision boards
I found a poem I published for a boy three years ago On his birthday It was called ‘I wrote you a poem’ My mother laughed at how cute that was I did too I think back to those years and how he never came through And somehow that didn’t make me love him any less Probably even more so
I have to get better with taking derivatives Along with the vitamins in my medicine cabinet I finally bought a parking permit for university so I could stop Getting tickets Even though the traffic cop is such a sweetheart He asks about my navy ‘Windy City’ sweater Things like “so when are you going to finally end up there?”
The piece of rose-tinted, painted card-stock That I’d never set on flames I keep it in my wallet To know that I’ll get there
I’ll get there Until I’m at the drugstore again with the cashiers That are of-age, by that time And I’m buying wine
And Chicago will treat me like it’s been mine this whole time And I won’t love it any less Probably even more so
a free verse poem about finding stability & self-acceptance
I know That things won’t work out as planned I know that Because my mother taught me how to be a man But there are Parts of me that won’t let someone hold my hand Because I Because I Find graveyards appealing Harsh winter thunderstorms healing And the chaos within you is quite often revealing Of the doom and dismay your surroundings convey The filth The agony The dreams others built for you become destroyed I’m my own person
But when I drive home at night I don’t feel alone I just know I am
It was cold in Chicago And I wanted to lay down In the snow My frail body Seldom appears melancholy Singing you songs, breathlessly, to you in your sleep Though my voice is never the right pitch Maybe that’s why I wait Until you hit your steady dream state An abyss of perpetual ignorance to moral obligations
The impatience Is testing me Like a ticking clock Telling me I Haven’t painted The sky quite right Haven’t gotten the stars To my audience’s delight And I think I might combust From the tainted, porcelain figure I often wish to set on fire Because what burns Feels so warm In winter
It’s almost February The anniversary of A thousand slumbers A rainfall that struck me like Lightning on the fast lane on the highway Swerving between cars with my eyes closed Thinking I’m oh – I’m just so composed But me, parchment paper thick, practically comatose Wouldn’t keep anyone up at night When you haven’t Made a name For yourself And nobody Gets the intonation In your full name quite right Maybe it’s not The right time To say
That what burns feels so warm In winter My god The shades of blue How I’d devour the skyline Like an arsonist, I fade to grey Along with the trembling cityscape
I encapsulate all the seasons & am easily forgotten
I only hope to properly portray The vacancy light in this hotel I occupy
Me, Against the wall Cold, doll-like, confused Fingertips Painted the lightest shade of pink that the nail salon could offer me If only, I could be elegant I could like parts of myself that others don’t I could live my life like My father envisioned
When he said to me
That I was born In the perfect season For a girl who prolongs Finding a reason To burn this place down to the ground
Hollow Cave Where my old journals remain Where ex-boyfriends mispronounce my last name They never remember the best parts of you They never really knew How to get through How your eyes turn dark green when your favourite song comes on Or when the colour temperature is five thousand Kelvin and I feel ashamed That I woke up to find Myself Not in embers But filling a body With wholeness that only
Real self-acceptance could develop and create
Something permanent Is never Found
I’m no good with directions but I don’t believe I’m lost I’m exactly On my own two feet Waiting To leave a message after the beep
But I hang up, because I remember They can’t pronounce my last name The intonation Is weak And I Am so Much farther than I thought I would be At this time of my life Are you, at all, surprised?
When I look At the cars Passing me by On the highway, I wonder If they’re going Somewhere warm and inviting
I don’t know why That To me Feels so terribly frightening
