the first poem i wrote since i told you i love youthe star-soaked stains
that covered our nudity
gives way at last
to a tequila sunrise,
so low in the sky;
it's still bright enough
to sting my eyes,
and yet i can't bring myself
to hate it.
your body next to mine,
every effort is made
to move a heavy limb
because any space
is space i don't want.
i am sometimes humbled
by my feelings,
the way they swell
in my throat
just how the ocean
tastes the shore.
there is always something new
to find hidden in my heart,
summoned by my words,
or the salt of your skin
wearing like wind on shale
i don't think i can ever tell you
i love you enough.
if i could, i would never get dressed
so that you could never be sad-
a rewind every time
my clothes touch the floor,
never anything but nude, not naked
because with you i can be bare
i can let you see my entirety
and leave my arms uncrossed,
i can let you in
and not fear that you will break me,
or force my inner things out.
i can love you with open arms
and my lip
a letter to ethanyou're fifteen minutes away.a letter to ethan2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
that's a quarter of an hour, that's ten miles, that's space enough that i never have to see you again.
but still i feel my heart beating like a rabbit's foot against my rib.
i'm a girl still in denial
of being a woman with
breasts and hips and a womb.
i'm a child with my heart and i will surrender it foolishly
to the first boy to give me roses and push them into my hair.
i don't know how to love,
the way i don't know how how to stop.
but let me tell you this- it happens.
they both do.
i loved your fragile brown eyes like i'd never seen a warmer fire.
i sank my bones like an anchor to your earthly vessel and called it home.
i staggered home drunk every weekend we were together
by word only.
and i felt myself falling apart when i sighed
with sleepy repetition as we exhausted the same jokes as ever,
just a million miles different.
my mind drifted but i loved you.
the feathered finches in my chest were beat
the commutei keep your kissthe commute2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
under my bed:
i won't lose it
just because you aren't here.
i will hesitate in the spaces
between the weeks
we are together,
and we are
i will write you letters
and gaps and commas
when my head stops spinning
and my pride takes a bow
to the lion of my heart,
and feel the stinging air
seep out of its balloon.
put your (love) affairs in order, dear
and find me under your blankets;
i want the places i know best
to be the ones made of skin,
secretly tucked away
in the crook of your elbow
where my body rests, or
behind your ear,
like a pencil-
i want you to write me words
that make me start to hum.
romanticism is such bullshiti don't understand a bitromanticism is such bullshit2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
what's so romantic
about missing-you and distance,
love stressed and strained like string
across miles of roping rivers;
it's ugly and sad
and there is no cure
because i will not wait by the letterbox
praying daily on my knees to a god i know i believe in but i'm not sure you do
to hear word from you-
that you're well;
that you're happy;
that you're eating and sleeping and feeling alive;
that's what i want, you know-
i want your vitality to blaze like the great chicago fire,
i want to see your scrawl emboldened with each word
i want to see you concretely on your feet
and certain of where you are going
without a sergeant telling you how to walk.
i want you to walk across half of the states
and back into my arms.
i want you to look me in the eye
and i want to see no hesitation back
when you tell me you love me.
i never want to cry because you're leaving
because you will never leave again-
i want you to love me like flames love oxygen:
things i don't know about you that bother me thati wonder what it's likethings i don't know about you that bother me that2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to fall asleep beside you
in a post coital haze,
and to wake in the morning
to run to class.
do you wake me,
do you kiss my forehead,
do we make love again-
i don't know,
and do you wet your toothbrush
before applying toothpaste,
tell me you don't leave the sink running,
it must get awfully tired.
and what do you dream of
when i lie next to you,
blissfully more than just a body;
what will you dream of
a year from now?
please tell me i can fit into
your big picture
as easily as i can fit into
the saturday after your birthday is where i foundbefore you there was an incessant need to be touchedthe saturday after your birthday is where i found2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
but for no longer than the time it took to touch, sweat, and moan
and never by the same hands twice;
for vacancies to be filled
and to never have an empty bed when sleep finally came.
when i found you it was dark and i was drunk.
it wasn't a story built for the centuries,
but we will be the lovers whose names are remembered for the years to come,
tied and woven in song and into the bodies of trees, we will be so in love
that the angels above will cry in jealousy because in my haze,
heavy and raw and with everything burning inside me, i'm afraid i fell in love that night.
being against you was not enough
i needed you on me-in me-everywhere i turned you needed to be there
no space between my body and yours no air
just skin and skin and skin and
movements rough enough to catch soft sweaters like dry elbows
i needed you to be so entwined with me that we breathed in sync.
our hearts opened and closed in a symphony, chords not harmonies, t
preemptive breakup poemif anyone ever tells you your sadness isn't physical,preemptive breakup poem2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
show them the ache in your bones,
the raw skin on your arms or wrists or hips or thighs,
the imprint of your foetal body on your mattress from the days you couldn't bear to leave.
and you see this?
this is what hurt looks like.
i want you to look closer, lean in a little until you can feel the sadness on my breath
and i want you to watch my eyes. count how often they blink and count how many of them are forcing back words i still can never say.
i don't want you to miss a second of how you make me feel.
i want to be what keeps you up at night
i want to be the reason you can't eat
or laugh at your favourite tv programs
i want to be the reason
you walk with your eyes on the pavement
because too many things
remind you of me
i want you to feel the soreness of a heart unloved
loudly enough that the beating is mute and slow
loudly enough that you keep your hands in your pockets
when you move through the city so you don't touch any
lovedrunkshe looks at me, all big doe eyes and cupid-bow lips, tells me, now i'm not trying to say i'm about to kill myself, but i'm about to kill myself.lovedrunk2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
the traffic light is glass. not that it's reflective, not that it's bright, but that it's so slow, a liquid, moving like a year. it's also what my blood has become with these words.
we're in my car but i'm scared. i know i'm the one behind the wheel, but i don't know what she's got in her purse. i don't know her name but i do know she's drunk. so am i. i know we shouldn't be driving but i couldn't leave such sad eyes at a bar. i guess, if i'm being entirely honest, i also couldn't leave such a beautiful body at a bar, either. especially if some guy with worse intentions than i couldn't pass her up.
talk to me, i say. i don't glance up from the road because i'm scared of what i'll see, and what i won't.
you're not my fucking therapist, she tells me. i know she's wearing red lipstick and i imagine it turns to venom with those words.
you arei want a city ruinedyou are2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
every time you love me.
i want to show how loudly i shake,
enough to break
faults and how it will never be yours,
and bring down skylines
when you aren't here.
there are seven weeks until my blood runs blank,
but it is so full tonight
it could drown a man.
i hope it drowns you,
the way it carries the only beautiful thing about me
my heart, my love.
it's time you pull together
your telephone wires and breathe stars
back into my body-
it was so dark without you.
there was no moon,
just the kind of black
you know could be no emptier.
i am effulgent again
with the ways i've needed to feel,
i am bursting with fire
instead of hurting, i heal,
and i'm still bright enough
to be burning like god speaks.
i myself speak too loud.
it's what happens at night when i let you love me
and my body writhes with glee
over something it has never known.
i'm afraid to wake the neighbours, or the sisters i'm loving as my own.
when i'm embarrassed by myself,
i won't ask you to hold
a thorough submissioni have found my heart-a thorough submission2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it has put itself into this.
my hesitations are little more
than bad habits,
filed somewhere between
biting my nails and always saying i'm sorry.
the expectation of the winds
blowing softer til they ceased
ended with your mouth on mine;
the nerves fraying from fear
have been tended to with needle and thread;
and the water i so wiklfully wouldn't touch
feels warmer as it inches
like your hands
up my ankles to my bare knees.
i have found my heart-
it has put itself into this.
my stomach turns the ocean calm
when i think of the messes i'll make,
and the sewing you will stitch.
and i'm terrified
like nightmares that don't dissolve upon waking
for the ending weeks of winter
when you leave for the great missouri banks.
my heart is found,
put in this,
and slipping and mending
and messes commonplace,
i am finally feeling
the warmth the rest of this brings,
the fire i'd fought so hard
for no other reason
than to stifle our joy.
between two months is two shorti like to think of you.between two months is two short2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sometimes you are a butterfly,
wings stretched back
in long arcs,
bones breaking into flight
behind your protruding chest-
you are beautiful.
i find myself sinking
into the irish kills in your eyes,
the gaps in your smile.
i touch the cauterised cuts
sealed by metal and fire
on the backs of your swollen knuckles
and kiss your crooked lips.
in two months you will leave.
in the wake of st. valentine's sacrifice,
i will send my heart to war with you.
look beneath your pillow
and find it there;
look in the space between your walls
and there it will be;
look within your chest, beside your own heart
and there it will stay.
look me in the eye
and tell me what it's like
to be loved by me;
i want to know that the way
you make my bones ache
with swells of ardor
i want to know that the way
my mouth dips into the
hollow of your neck,
finding its pulse at ease,
unending, ceaselessnight,unending, ceaseless2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
black and bony
fades in neon lights.
three dollar shit
into our skin.
deep and swallowing
bodies of bodies
elbow and knee
joints and sheets,
in the open air-
than the moment,
by the sway,
and we talk,
of each others' tongues
in the connection,
only to retie
write what hurtsi'm here to tell youwrite what hurts3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
about fire and living
& how both burn even if you ignore them
it's not about what feels good
it's about what doesn't
cornering what hurts
and exposing it
really displaying it
pedestal on high
for what it is
and not what it pretends to be
you are not living
until you hurt
you can't be alive
if all you know is comfort
comfort is only a sign
that you are doing what you know
it is admittance of limitation
because you are human
and only know so much
and it's agonising to think
that you can be comfortable with that
and not want to reach out
and touch every thing you find
and read every book you see
and hear every sound you can
because enough is never enough
is never enough is always
alpengloweverything hard-kept in the heart is falling onto paper. each word so well-fought to be kept within the chest becomes a snowflake from november skies, but the winds are unseasonably warm and a fire is kindled inside each bone in place of a bitter chill.alpenglow2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
there are ten thousand things i can never tell you.
the way that wars are fought, i wage battles among my selves to keep the quiet. you will never hear my voice, too soft like the pillow beneath your head each time our bodies find each other, say how my breath becomes a porch swing when we touch and i sway.
i can never call you by any name, given at birth or given by heart. you will never see my cheeks flush fires when asked what you are called, or feel the tremulous tunnels i do as your mouth twists into the shapes of words like "beautiful," or "babe."
i cannot tell you of the poems i write to keep my lips locked tightly; not even a winter wind can howl through its denseness, not even the chimneys stoked to keep the c
virgin culturethere's a little more to love than lustvirgin culture3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
and a little more to a person than a label.
you can try to sum me up in five words or less and you'll find those words,
but you won't be able to reduce me to them.
you can't turn me into something that can be thrust,
down the grapevine
when there's something more to me than the colour of my eyes or the size of my chest.
and that's something we could all do with remembering.
but this is the culture we were born into.
where the length of your hair is more important than the sincerity of your words,
and nothing matters as much as the kardashians' latest scandal or talking some hot chick into bed.
i'm nineteen. i understand. but i'm frequently finding myself writhing in my own reassurance that i exist.
my name is melissa, i am a liberal, college-going female who doesn't remember what her own house looks like but remembers her childhood telephone number
and i'm not sure if that's ok. is it normal, am i the only one in this goddamn world wh
spoiled little girli have turned my bodyspoiled little girl2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
into a void
so that i can love
instead of my heart.
i feel nothing
so i feel nothing
but your skin has not
in a week
and it has me
loves completely vanilla,
though there once were poems
of red clay and sun;
kisses with no ridges
and i cannot seem to
find a way to stay captivated;
touches when i cannot remember,
so i run
when i see the silhouette of his face,
like nightlights or fireflies
of a dark room
i seem to have almost
i think you have spoiled me terribly
because i feel nothing
and kiss no one
and no one
has touched me
life without youi watched you,life without you2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
battered and floral
suitcase in hand,
as your knotted tree-branch fingers
grip the doorhandle.
i watched you
before the door swung
i saw your thin skin
slip between pavement
and cracks in the concrete
your keys sunk through
the hole in your pocket
and are sitting at the
side of the sink,
your lunch in the bowels
of the toilet.
i watched your mouth
of broken teeth
spit vitriol soundlessly,
your tendons splitting
from your frame,
you have unravelled into nothing,
i watched you
pack your things and
revelations in the mudi only want to fall in loverevelations in the mud3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
if someone is there
to fall with me.
i want to jump from high places
and pretend i'm flying,
i'm a bird, i'm light enough at-fucking-last
for the air to catch me,
and the harsh grounds beneath me?
can't touch this.
but i'm earthbound
and parachutes will not work
if you do not open them,
and i am just so sick
of feeling like maybe,
becoming an abstract painting
on the rocks below, would be enough...
but there is something beating in my chest.
i'm very afraid of what it is.
and i don't know a lot,
like the size of the universe.
or why you sought solace in the south.
or how i came to be in this crater that swallowed me whole;
but i do know the second you told me
you felt the same for me like i did for you,
something in my universe shifted.
part of my soul went to georgia...
and i began to climb.
the purpose of life is to knock you on your ass
so you have to do something with it to get back up.
i don't know about you,
but i'm pretty fuckin' tired of feelin
wasting usi want you, okwasting us3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i want you to be on your knees
all scraped and red and raw
like you're a child again
because that's all you ever
i want you to be aching
the way i've been aching
since the last rays of summer
said goodbye to us,
goodbye to us
and i want you to never forget
that just because
you don't remember my birthday,
that doesn't mean
forget the feel of my skin
for the first time
and that someday
this memory will stop hurting.
it never will,
and i promise you this:
every time it crosses your mind-
while you wait at the bus stop,
during a chemistry exam,
the next time a girl touches you
with her heart and not just her fingers-
every time it crosses your mind,
you're going to remember me
in extraordinary detail
and see me
like the extraordinary person
that i am,
the end, actuallylassitude buildsthe end, actually2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
nests in my bones
as effective at becoming airborne
as the words "i'm sorry"
they just refused to try
the most prominent thought
circling my head
like the words that could soar
there is a big chance
we will not make it through the night,
that i will never be held
in the cage of your eyes
and trapped by a heart
i must be committing
but i do not know which ones-
there just might be
on the number of tears
you can shed
over one person;
we are not snakes
and cannot remove our skin
so we cry instead
but through the heat
i felt that sadness made
over the phone
i saw no end to us
where there would be
no end to us.
first weekend and realisationsyou begin to talkfirst weekend and realisations2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
because talking means that
someone else can't
&you start to realise
(as most girls do)
that you have a boyfriend
he's not just a boyfriend;
he's your boyfriend
&he's not just better than
anyone else in the world
he's better than
anything else in the world
&you would trade years off your life
to spend a little longer with him
or to see him smile when he's sad
or to feel his face in your hair
the way he does when he hugs you
&you can't feel it
because right now he's too far away
but distance is only the space between
point a and point b
between you&between me
&if you give it just a little more time
you'll realise nothing has changed
and the disjointed rhythms
your heart beats out like a drum
sticks like a song in your head
the moment you watch recognition
hit his eyes
when you walk in.
bipolar IIa week is spentbipolar II3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in throes of excitability,
irritation, unstoppable words,
and ideas with wings of their own-
they soar in their preternatural flight
without a second's notice
and meander along separate currents.
sleep is an elusive,
fought for so ruthlessly,
only to have it slip away,
mere hours later.
i am icarus, resin-winged in thought
and flying til my fingers can
brush the sun.
i am icarus, resin-winged in thought
and watching my feathers drop
until my body
is subject once more
to the relentless rules of gravity.
hitting the dirt
hurts more every time-
physics has no mercy for bruised bones.
refusal to meet my mother's gaze,
to speak when spoken to,
and to move from the cave of my bedroom
i know how the sun feels
when it sinks below the earth,
and the struggle of the moon
as it thrashes to rise.
the endless circle
from night and day
grows so tiresome that sometime,
it will just
a letter of hatred, to myselfdear child,a letter of hatred, to myself2 years ago in Letters More Like This
dear little girl,
dear sweet, innocent, beautiful melissa,
there is none of this that you would choose for yourself; there is none of this that you would see coming. a beautiful infant, born bright yellow like your favourite dress when you were three, you were perfect. you wore jaundice like a mink stole, blocked tear ducts like cat-eyed glasses. you cried because you were unafraid to show others how you felt: you were not scared to let them care.
strangers paused your parents on the street to peer inside of your stroller, marvelling at the porcelain doll within; the big blue eyes, reflecting the sky in grandeur and wonder; the rosy cheeks that meant you were healthy. you were beautiful, and as awareness became more than an abstraction, you knew it.
hours were spent in the mirror and every reflective surface that came across your path. dearest melissa, you were a brilliant star to behold.
the sickness of breathing emptinesstoday:the sickness of breathing emptiness4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and my god, there's no way to pretty that up. pain is not beautiful, it is painful. use your common sense. there is no glory in suffering, there is no sparkle to sacrifice. hurt is hurt is hurt. and you can't take it for someone else, no matter how hard you try.
what i hate is that you're leaving. like, a thousand miles away worth of leaving. and don't tell me that distance means nothing to the heart, because it does: enough to make you break me before you kill me. honestly, i wonder which is worse. honestly, i'd probably rather you kill me because i've broken enough times that i don't have much left to break.
what i hate more is that i love you. i have fought harder against it than i've fought against anything else in my life, i fucking swear to god. i didn't even consider that i could love you for months. an
you call me an angelyou call me an angelyou call me an angel2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in spite of the bruises left on the fronts of my knees
stains of sin left on my skin;
the knots in my back,
you liken to the wings soon to burst from my shoulders
&tell me you can feel no sadness
when looking at my face-
eyes you analyse
into paints of the colour wheel,
several shades i have yet to see;
despite its crooked nature
thinning enamel from my sickness-
you still find me amongst the heavens.
as this once,
i kissed you to shut you up.
my skin is removing itself after my clothes
in the winter,
too unlike the white night of russian summers.
i kissed you &it was wet because i was crying
&every time our lips parted
another sob stuttered its way through the gap.
you heard what words i couldn't swallow,
the ones straining to pass over my tongue
yet drowned upon existence.
you listen to me until i lose my headstrong aim
to starve back to bones,
to see the angel wings i've lost in my skin
you touch &feel are there;