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the onsethe never stood still and it annoyed me that
his resting position was always halfway between a stretch and an unrelenting springing.
i figured the outward restlessness was a manifestation of an inward fear of being still
but he loved yoga and meditation.
he was a contradiction of himself in many ways,
the happiest sad face you'll ever see,
the distraction you can't help but focus on:
he has a lot of thoughts,
he doesn't speak fast enough for them,
then it all catches up with him
Vascillate(july nights are for)
thinking back to when:
i love you
replaced my damaged skin with the sound of the ocean;
replaced my tired eyes with butterflies wings;
replaced my chattering teeth with poetry;
replaced my shaking hands with pieces of the moon.
it was just that simple
(july nights are for)
i miss you
i love you
it was just that simple
(july nights are for)
vacillating futures, hazy promises;
to craft bigger futures and vaster promises for my hungry, destructive mind.
because it's just not simple anymore
(i love you)
july nights are for
turning off my phone when you call
and being alone when you need me the most.
untenable1. it's January-
i'm hearing his voice for the first time on a wednesday.
i'm the new girl at school,
standing awkwardly on the periphery of girls i barely know who were talking to him about late assignments or something.
i'm standing in a shaky, nervous way, waiting to be introduced or acknowledged.
he looked at me once, but i was looking at him the whole time.
i couldn't stop looking at him. later, he would tell me that he liked that about me.
but by the time he was telling me that, i had become too self conscious to meet his eyes as much as i used to.
7. it's July-
things are going wrong, i'm feeling worse more frequently.
we're swapping definitions of love over the phone,
he says: love is the person you always want to be with, no matter what.
i say: i don't think i know what love is.
things are going wrong.
we're talking about the countdown.
2. it's February-
we joke about how good we look together
we jokingly hold hands and take
Sleeplessi'm drowning in a puddle of little extremities
that attack in diminutive dramatic doses.
i'm losing friends,
i'm losing sleep;
a sweeping sunset swiftly burns a pale sky,
i'm melting in a freezer and freezing in the fire
and every feeling cancels out every other feeling.
i'm losing battles,
i'm losing clarity;
the stars burn out and give way to morning.
CataclysmI tend to think emblematic thoughts:
hectically, I think up intricate poems as things are happening,
willfully splitting myself into both bystander and perpetrator.
I do this every time my fingers skim his angular collarbones,
noting their vulnerability under my hurricane fingertips,
my tornadoes of attachment, my storm clouds of indecision, my incessant rain.
I could write about that forever.
He said to me: I think you are incredibly intelligent.
i realize that it's getting harder to write poems about you,
immortalizing you in words that can't even properly describe how much i hate this,
or how much i love you. I realize that
i can't decide which is stronger.
every day more than four million people fly on commercial airlines worldwide,
in over one hundred thousand planes.
reducing you to a part of this statistic doesn't lessen the pull i feel in my chest,
but at least i tried.
and what if, this time, it's not as easy as turning off my phone?
what if i can't just throw you away with everything you gave me?
what if i can't just distance myself from it until it's so small i can swallow it up?
what if i've finally found the pain i have to work through?
if i'm lucky- statistically, i will fall in love seven times before marriage.
you will always be the first.
you will always be the messiest, most confusing, most beautiful, most shocking
it's been roughly one hundred and eighty two days since we met
AsphyxiativeI know I'm difficult
too often I stop myself from asking:
would you hate me if I messed up really bad?
would you hate me if I had a new friend, just like how we were friends,
who was there for me when you couldn't be,
and kissed me on my black sofa?
would you hate me if it got too hard?
would you hate me if I stopped calling back, just like how I used to
when the line went dead too early
and I still needed to hear your voice?
would you hate me if the noise never stopped?
would you hate me if I couldn't even focus on being still and content, just like how I used to be
when we met and started talking
and you fell in love with me?
would you hate me if I ended this poem too soon?
would you hate me for running out of things to say and giving up, just like how I always do,
when you ask me what's wrong?
Arithmophobiawe had thirty six days left when you asked me why I don't talk about it,
it was nearing two in the morning when i told you.
i told you all the things i hate talking about,
i was speaking into the vacuous, suffocating, ambiguous dark
not knowing if you were crying on the other side of the phone,
or even there at all.
i spoke despite my voice denying me the power to sound powerful.
my voice shook and spluttered and stumbled over words,
i mumbled my words into the enormous void.
and, for a split second, i was starting to think that maybe, possibly, hopefully –
but as soon as the phone went dead, and the silence encroached
there was just more to say.
thirty five, thirty four;
there's more to say today, there will be more to say tomorrow
and there's only so much you can listen.
Between Sky and SeaYou are:
creating emptiness that haunts the left side of my bed;
but in the corners of my room,
expanding to infiltrate the space in my head.
down my spine;
and in the crack where my collarbones separate,
where I try to hide the clock that ticks away our time.
the washed out sky after the rain, so calm and stripped of artifice;
the wispy wind after a storm, that cools the damage,
all these words and metaphors I can't say, but can list.
as close to a poem as a human can be,
treading lightly between sky and sea,
waiting to be written about by me.
And one day I will do you justice.
It's Okay to be ImperfectThe moon
Stand Against SuicideI know the pain is perhaps unbearable,
But darling, please put down the blade.
Release your emotions through tears and smiles,
Rather than dreading these days.
Do it for the little girl, whose mother can’t be there,
Or for the boy whose father drank too much.
For the boy who can’t sit in elementary school,
Because the bruises from Daddy hurt to touch.
For the teenage girl lying face down in her bed,
Thinking, why can’t it all be done?
For the elderly man looking up at the stars,
Counting the days one by one.
Do it for the children who wonder, does it end?
For the ones who feel left on their own.
For the ones who think, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard
If I didn’t feel so left alone.
And finally, do it for one other person,
The person in front of these words.
Because you’ll never know how it gets better
When focusing on pain and hurt.
Live one more day, dear, for them and for you,
And I swear to you, problems will fade.
I know, for right now, it’s p
I Thought I Needed FeminismI thought I needed feminism, when I was a little girl.
And I am very sad to admit, that this wasn't very long ago.
I thought when he held the door open for me, that he was making a big mistake.
That he was being a pompous ass, and he took my strength for a fake.
And when he offered to pay my tab, I still called him an ass.
Because I thought he assumed I was poor, and below middle class.
Or when his hard work earned him a promotion,
yet I did nothing, and the boss' ignorance to promote me, I believed was a sexist notion.
My friend really wanted feminism when she found her ex-dead drunk,
removed his clothes, and without his consent, had a pleasurable fuck.
When her parents bust into the room unexpected that night,
she said he raped her, and he was arrested without so much as a fight.
Perhaps feminism was there when I walked out into the street in pure nudity,
and shouted the my neighbors “You have no right to judge me!”
I didn't care about the children who were standing in th
These Faded KeysOf all the keys I click
As we speak each day,
It's the back arrow
That's faded most
These white letters
Would surely tell you,
I reply to everything -
But the key reading "enter"
Will be the one to explain
Why it still looks new
I want you to know
Just how much I care,
But I don't want to be close
Out of the fear of losing you
But please remember:
I dedicate these words to you,
Sharing them to the world
Rather than clicking away
At the faded key ~
Echoes we are like
in the middle
but not quite
what we truly
DethronedI have created Eden, through the strokes of my pen,
But it was made of promises, and angels
That were too fragile to hold the weight of our sins.
You were my goddess, on a throne made of dreams.
Which you were probably
They didn't glimmer and shine
like the diamonds decorating your rings.
They were the hopes of a man
So madly in love, but you poured poison into his heart
And so he rotted, each time you gifted him with a kiss.
I'm all alone now.Where did you go?
It's so lonely and cold.
We used to be so close.
We talked every day.
Why have you gone?
We were so close.
Did I miss a fallout?
Was it something I did?
Remember me at all?
Remember all the fun we had together?
Remember the laughs we shared?
Remember the games we played?
We were always there for eachother,
but you never come by anymore.
It's lonely here.
I miss you.
What happened to us?
We used to be such close friends.
I miss you all,
and everything we did.
Sleepless part IIyou were a lot of sleepless nights in february,
because we took an anticlimactic walk in the onset of rain.
we didn't know how to speak to each other,
so we played tennis with frustrated little sighs.
you were the sleepless nights in march,
because i was writing about you, and i never used to write.
we sat down on my swing set,
we talked with raised voices between too-long pauses.
you were sleepless nights in april
when the messy kisses stopped being so volatile, so mercurial.
even when we stopped sighing and fighting,
i never slept quite the same as i used to.
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