Poems.

2005-12-03T06:05:03Z

A series of poems I've been writing. Enjoy, comment with criticism or whatever you can think of. I want to know what you guys think. FYI, based on the style of E.E. Cummings.

the stitching is pulling and
the seams of your heart are spreading
apart; a rupture in the land separating
your feet between them delicately.

i promise that i didn't let the doves
out of the cage - they're the smartest
birds i've ever encountered but beaks
they are sharp and calculating, your
mind and my heart and i hope i am

imagining any semblance of jealousy
written on your face because the opposite
of pretty is frown lines and wrinkles.
maybe you weren't joking when you
articulated the fact that your heart screamed
and made my eyes bleed with the loudest and
oh my; shrillest i have ever seen (heard)

i heard every blood cell in your body beg for
release from imprisonment and at that moment
(lust) love not lust, you i promised i wouldn't
Tell a single soul but what i did hear was your

Soul, white and pure with a dark hole in the
very center where i made a wish and hoped
that it would come, the best of the best of the

best but it was wishful hoping not thinking.
i promise that this isn't all fabricated like
a tiny gold heart sewn into the left sleeve

of a loud green sweater that accents your
eyes so picturesque, i tell you and you,
promise. the vehement exclamations
nothing but bewildering, they are.

living inside a black and white movie
accentuated with bursts of bright colors
in the moments that mean the most,
you and us: here's to ---

------

the scattered polaroids cover
every inch of floorspace -
your bed, sheets tumbling onto
the floor and you, they still

carry the smell of
a combination of fresh cut
grass and dusk; when the
sun bleeds into the darkening

air and breathless, you leave me.
the things i miss are the ones
that i haven't found; but when
our fingers are laced together

i know that suddenly everything,
perfect it is. even the flaws are;
the cracks and ripples gracing
wrists, yours. they shine with

a brilliance that I've never come
across. so sparkling! i love to
run my fingers over and under
and maybe i can live inside them
for just one day or sew up the new

Dead scabs that formed and know,
you and i, love is what we are.
when my fingers grace the pale
surface, you - only you. the red;
welts red with eagerness that waits

to crawl over every surface and
claim its place you all over and
i don't ever want to tell you that
things are (pretty) ugly but your
welts make me feel whole again.

they make me want to live inside
because you are so warm and the
heat scorches loudly and brightly;
i have to close my eyes sometimes
because yours are too loud for my
liking but that's what makes you so -
unique isn't the right word. you are;

entity that makes me choke on proper
words and expression. my Lips are
(cracked like ceramic) bleeding the
dusky night and i swear. this is.

i taped polaroids all over your
notebook and wrote my most
valiant thoughts to expose and
lay waste to my vacant mind.
you and us: here's to ---

-------

what's broken is not easily fixed,
and your mouth is a gaping hole
like a bullet wound swathed in
cloth and when you cough i get

so scared because i saw Blood
dotting fabric like polka dots and
the pattern is strangely endearing
but at the same time i've always

found you've carried that quality.
everyone can hate you but to me
you still mean the most to the point
where my heart wraps around you

encasing you in a display of affection;
have you ever felt anything so pure?
my brain is on fire with (hopelessly)
hopeful aspirations and i want you
to be in on them and to share with

me, a life all our own. just like
cigarette burns littering arms
and bruises trashing pretty girls.
the wastebasket, you said -
that's where i belong but you

i am not ready to give this up
but you screamed bloody murder
and my heart screamed back.
you are my serial killer that
pulls the wings off innocent
butterflies and i am the naive
little girl next door who initially

thought you were the kind of
boy who just needed someone
to knock some solid sense into
their jaw. but you wanted less
than sense and more than pure

you wanted such purity it was
filthy and the sun highlighted
hair, you were in awe and delight
the wooded area behind our houses
housed such awful temptations

there, i lost everything.
wiped away running eyeliner,
your sleeve tattered and dirty.
by a single fist clenching glance
sniveling disappointment brought.

where was the clarity that you brought
when i first met you and breathed so still -
we were walking corpses brought to life
our hearts sewn together with elegant
ribbons of lace and satin; patched up,
your eyelids sewn shut with the night;
fast approaching, it was.

all saint's day wasn't the same
i am just a shade of halloween.
There's no need to impress me
by pulling off a pretty butterfly's
gossamer wings and i hope you
pray for forgiveness because

such a minuscule amount is left.
black as pitch, dark as night
i am, you are completely insane.
i stomped my feet on ants in
order to remember you more
clearly but it was futile. the
temptation was veiled by a
thin apprehension and lust.
you and i: here's to ---

--------

the heat wave that made our lives
into mirages and fabrications
shimmered in front of our faces
and made the tar melt into the
most grotesque nightmares.

maybe you found it pretty
when you held your fingers
to the steaming black that
burned off your fingerprints
and made you faceless.

a banquet, your flesh; and
nights, the summer swallowed
us up like a midnight canopy.
empty parking lots were your
asylum; caging your insanity

within their boundaries. you
lived permanently in cans of
red bull and packages of pixie
sticks to give you one of those
perfect straight edge highs

but the real truth was that you
just wanted to escape from
the pestilence invading your
brain and i promised that no
matter how bad it got i would

always; this doesn't even need
to be said but i miss when you
would lie flat on your back
among the parallel yellow lines
gracing the now cool black lots
and pretend that you were able

to melt into the stars and go to
neverland. i promised that you
would always be my peter pan
and we would never have to
grow up and face the perils of
the outside world that haunted

you since you were a child.
i would always sit on the hood
of the car; you would tell me
that we needed to hold hands
so that you could be as near
to me as possible but i loved
the higher view because i never

wanted to drop down so low
that i had to look up at everyone.
no, that was your job. you always
craved Attention and Depression
like your favorite things; coffee
and candy and sweet, what you are.

the simplest things in life were
always lost amidst your Grandiose
ideas and they often got lost among
your tumbling words that flowed
over my ears like rivers of purple
and blue so bright that they sparkled.

there were rare occasions where i
obliged to join you on the black
and yellow (bumblebees) ground
just to see the world from your view
on the very bottom rung of society
but i always preferred the aristocratic
end; still our bodies would melt
together like candle wax and paraffin.

i wanted to feel what it was like to be
peter pan so i ran around the parking
lot at midnight with its glowing yellow
parallel stripes with my arms out from
my sides and finally for once i felt just
like you and wanted to fly up into the
stars and be enveloped by nothingness.

i was always more of a wendy and you
hated that even though i loved you more
than you would ever know. my body
grew up but my heart never did. so
you and i: here's to ---

--------

every time it rains, i think that
it affects your brain and makes
you feel like a mist has settled
like a gray sheet forming to all
the surfaces that map out your

heart and eyes and ears and face
like a mask that distorts features
until they are dank and decayed.
a delicate picture of rotted wood
and holes carved out so that i could
live inside but maybe; you know

i shouldn't assume these things.
they just get me in trouble and we
don't want this to go too far. seems
like we're running in circles and
ending up back at the start but i
promise with all my (not so pure)

heart that this is not all in vain;
that you're not wasting your time.
you look wretched when the water
soaks through your clothes and the
rain pours down in multitudes to
shed tears of sadness and mourn
the loss of love and life and dear

old friends. the moments slipped
through our hands like grains of
rough edged diamond sand from
far off beaches and unattainable
shores eroding the backs of our

tired and depleted minds. i still
say that looking at your notebooks
was the best mistake i ever made;
angry, hurt, betrayed but they're
all just names for the same thing

you are. this is all just another
synonym for (deeply) shallow
words that form on the tip of
my tongue and refuse to collect
in the rainwater, but instead

the words dance inside my mouth
like pixies in enchanted forests from
the tales of Shakespeare and suddenly;
or rather it's briefly, i wonder what
goes through your beautiful mind on
a daily basis but i am left breathless
(as usual) with contemplation so
complicated like the threads on your

blazer that i always picked apart
when i got nervous and sat next
to you in classes and winter
morphed into spring like butterflies
maturing and my heart beats
ten times for your every two when
i lay my head on your chest and

our breathing clouds the windows
and we draw doodles on them;
your heart my name with plus
(minus) signs and yours as well
linked together for what will
seem like forever even though

it is only a millisecond in comparison
to the rest of the known world. the
time is just right to feel the rain melt
against our skin and seep into all the
threads that hold our hearts together;
praying that their delicacy won't be

affected quite so much by the changing
of weather but knowing that it is almost
inevitable. Time is time is time and we
can't waste any more of it unless we want
to end up in rainy day graves with all
the downtrodden folk who lie on top
of each other for eternity, the worms

Choking on decaying flesh and bones.
all the flourescent ink stained pages
like splattered blood and the contrast
was (edgy) modern chic with a twist
of victorian beauty and your words
jumped out at me like a jack in the

box that waited for far too long
to be opened. its hinges were so
rusty they squeaked and your pages
so unused to being turned that they
creaked. i heard the pain seeping
through my bleeding eyes from
all the hurt inflicted upon you by
your father and wondered why

you didn't love me enough to tell
me why you were the way you were.
there was a keyhole but you never
gave me the key; only told me to
"figure it out for myself" and leaving
no room for argument. i hate one

sided disputes because i never win
against someone as clever as but
wait; start over from the beginning
and tell me why you're having trouble
expressing your feelings and i promise
i will be less of a shrink and more of a
girlfriend and we can hold each other
as we tiptoe between the raindrops to

keep ourselves warm and dry to prepare
for a long winter of heartlessness and
restlessness and even some emptiness.
i loved to write you notes and this time
was no exception to that cardinal rule.

every word is a vague love letter and
i used my looping scrawl in such a way
that even if you did realize i had read up
on you, researched you, wouldn't be so
angry and stubborn and let me inside

or at least possibly leave the key out
under the flowerpot. all the rain in
my hair makes it hard for me to hold
my head up any longer and i think i
might be sinking far beneath the green
(sharp) blades of grass to be swallowed
up by a personal grave that was (of course)
predetermined by years of (in)experience.

we are what they call epic and
there's nobody else like us. your
notebook housed such awful (wait
does this sound familiar?) temptations
like the woods behind our houses and
for once i want to explore the dangerous
crevices of your mind. just like always,
you and i: here's to ---

-------

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2005-08-23T01:19:47Z

I fight with myself to get you out of my head,
But I'm hanging off of every word you said.

You're just a line in a song.

Poems.

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