A reflection on “Cornelia Street” and “Death by a Thousand Cuts” by Taylor Swift. Because it’s that kind of day.
Continue readingThe Long Way Home (Is Still Going Home): A Music Review
Tag: relationships
Letter to Funny Hands
I wanted every cold night to last forever. I wanted to learn to let myself unravel like old gloves, held in your funny hands.
September 17, ’18
“When the Candle Goes Out”
I wanted so badly to be yours.
I wanted to be something you
wanted to keep. But these are not decisions
we can make for other people.
I will love you forever, even if
right now, I don’t very much like you
or the way you’ve made me feel.
But I will love you,
because you were what I needed
and I like to think I was what you needed, too,
to get to these places we are now,
even if they are not next to one another.
I wanted to stay there forever.
But if it wasn’t meant to be,
then something else is.
July 5, 2018
It hasn’t been easy, without you.
I wouldn’t want it to be.
You were the moment that made this year
momentous, and even though it’s
not what it was, anymore,
I’m glad the memory gets to go
untouched. I know I don’t have
the same fate.
Sometimes it’s the middle of the night and I
forget, that we aren’t like we were,
and I’m halfway through a poem to you when
I realize I’m writing you,
yet again, and you won’t know,
because you don’t look for me,
at least I think you don’t,
sometimes the songs on your playlists sound
a little bit too much like
me,
and I hate that it makes me start to hope
you haven’t forgotten, you keep
looking, you maybe find yourself
halfway through a thought of me
before you remember
it’s probably best if you didn’t.
I hate that I don’t quite believe me.
I hate that I don’t quite know
what to do with my hands
when they’re not holding yours.
Chatterboxes
Quiet as I am, I’ve been collecting.
I’ve got biting words. Snap and snarl.
Flinching words. Smack and dodge.
The thud of tired words, hitting the mattress,
shoes thumping to the rug and
sighs muffled against pillows. Cool fabric
I wish lined my throat. Stuffing.
Make it easier to talk to strangers
by not having to say anything at all.
But you, you, you have words
like I’ve never heard before.
Good words. Big words. Silver-dollar words.
Leave you gasping laughing words.
Poking jeering dancing words.
Words that sparkle at the corners
of your mouth, meeting dimples.
Champagne words. Popping bubbles.
I think maybe one day you’ll teach me
softer words. Flower growing words.
Blossoming tending harvesting words.
Coaxing words. Saplings from soil.
Just enough rain to soothe the sunshine.
Warm and plush like a palm around mine.
When you said you liked me,
the air was flush with red-tinted words.
Like the tops of your ears.
Like the apples of my cheeks.
Words that crunch into me.
Words that hollow.
We’ve got a hundred thousand words between us
and we’ll make a hundred thousand more.
Just as long as you keep talking.
Just as long as you keep me talking.
We’ll trade these words for quiet, currency,
right when we need it most.
June 17, 2018
“Death Rattle”
It’s your car, and it’s dark out, more shadow than world,
more ghost than girl, my hands going inwards
every time you try and hold them.
The car rattles. Rocks. Lurches like we have been
swept out to sea, and the water is climbing
up the windowpane. Rain from below. Lightning cuts
through ink, so I can see your face,
just as we submerge.
Stammer
Every time I
every time I
every time I start to
speak your
mouth is there and I’m
tired, love, I’m tired of
interruptions and
vignettes and
to be continueds can’t you
stay tonight, if that’s okay, tonight,
there’s no planet out there to
save, tonight.
There is a bed, and
my cold feet, and
my nose against the
back of your neck breathing
deep you make it so easy to
drift.
Every time I fall
to my
knees and ask you to
linger you are there
a hushing
finger and I’m
tired, moorless,
drifting can’t you
tether me,
to you,
just
tonight.
Unexplored
There is little light
in our ocean tonight.
I must’ve loved you
for years now,
even though I’ve only known you
a month.
But you’ve got the sea in your mouth.
I wonder if you can taste it.
The salt grainy in the valleys
of your molars.
The tsunami building up
beneath your tongue
as your jaw shifts to let
all its roar out.
I know I must’ve loved you
because I was born in the sea,
because your waves have never scared
me.
Tbh There’s Not A Lot of Foundation
a poem about two-second love affairs with strangers, especially the strangers you know.
Letter to Ankle Bruise
You’re fading from my existence, like blue haze over hills, like broken blood vessels under flesh.
poetgoes 