I’ve been hurting so many years now I’ve just taken to calling it
the universe keeping me on my toes.
Everyone else just calls it heartbreak.
What do you do, when muscle memory
only leads you back to tragedy?
Tag: love
Spare Change
“Favorite Song”
I know it’s late where you are but
God I wish you were awake I want to tell you about
the music and the stars and
running from the car to the hotel in the freezing wind
you are from a place with lots of trees and red brick but
I am from a place thatched from corn husks and dust and
I’ve always kind of thought it looked like
heaven and I’d like to show it to you, someday,
you’ve never seen clouds like we’ve got cause we’ve got
the whole entire sky stretched above us
and the kind of flatland that makes you want to
run and run and never stop running not even when your lungs
heave gasoline and your joints are stones sparking
fire that is how you know you are
seconds away from sprouting wings
just because I have spent my childhood sprinting
barefoot across asphalt does not mean I will bolt
as soon as the door cracks open it will simply mean I want you to
chase me follow me to the creeks I was baptised in the
parking lots I danced ballet in the
wind who taught me how to finally speak
for myself and to myself and maybe
to you if you would like to listen
it is my favorite song.
I know it is late but I will never stop
playing it, and if you’d like I will play it
for you.
Ice as Girl, Acrylic
October 16, ’17
I skip the bus and walk an hour uptown
to clear my head of the cobwebs I hung there.
Measuring By Hands
It’s my own fault that I’ve forgotten
what my hands feel like when they’re being held.
You can’t dig your own grave then sue the coffin maker.
I used to think loving others made up for not being loved.
Like having a heart too big to hold between two palms was a
good thing, a proud thing, a noble thing.
I used to think if I kept my head down long enough then one day
I would look up at exactly the right moment,
but never let myself wonder how I’d know that moment when it came.
When you’re only ever staring at your shoes
no one’s gonna fall in love with the top of your head.
When you’re only ever staring at your shoes
you’ll never recognize love by their toes.
Holding your own hand ever only makes your arms tired.
That doesn’t mean I haven’t kept practicing.
Love’s fingers have promised they’ll fit perfectly.
Love’s fingers haven’t tried mine on for size.
Tbh There’s Not A Lot of Foundation
a poem about two-second love affairs with strangers, especially the strangers you know.
poetgoes 