I. I don’t know what to do with this…
Is it a mess?
Some may say “yes.” And others may say “no,
wait for it to fall to dust
II. That was the first poem I wrote about you
though I’ve wanted to for quite some time,
I was practicing patience in place of poetry
in hopes that the discipline might bring favor upon this-
which is nothing more yet
than just me writing a little about you.
I want to try again
I’m sorry for turning you
A R O U N D A N D A R O U N D A N D A R O U N D A N D A R O U N D A N D A R O U N D
making you stumble and fall.
But I’m even sorrier for getting upset when you don’t see me, after you finally stand back up again.
a deep fried love letter
I dream of the day you hand me a deep fried love letter in the rocking carriage of a Ferris wheel. You’ll wipe the joy from my chin when I take my first bite, and we will finish it together while sitting at the top of the ride; the stars kissing the tops of our heads.
I hope my love for you dies in its sleep
I exchanged my dignity for an altar to beg for you to take it away
Just get it out of here, please
Lose it when you wade through the ebb and flow of the river
Let it fall from your pack as you climb
Ignore its screams on the way down as branches mangle any sort of potential it had
Abandon it on the trail when it stops for water and when you take a break to count the group overlook its absence
Or simply lay it down for the night on the bench in the city and let its warmth lull you to sleep
Be kissed goodnight by the innocence of our roof top memories
Let the twinkly skyline flit across your eyelids as you drift into our final conversation about poets and their muse
But when you rise in the morning, don’t wake it up
Let it pass on peacefully and walk away
Reserve the self-denial to find yourself in a different city before you stop for your morning coffee
Because we both know how hard it is to tell those big sleepy, solemn eyes to go back to bed
a crappy love poem
Whenever you feel
The butterflies in your tummy
Throwing up butterflies in their tummies,
Tell the person
‘I love you’
Because it’s likely
They are the one
Who let the caterpillars
Out of the jar;
Who dusted of
The watering can;
Who took time
To get on their hands and knees
Tending the soil
In your garden
Of a heart
In the first place.
your eyes recite verses of history
and all I want to do
is sit before you
and travel back in time.
take me to the genesis of your heartbeat.
the words goodbyes are made of.
We sat on the swings as I gave you a gift that floated through the air, twirling its way through your hair and hitting you in the chest like honesty always does, wrapped in ‘um’s’ and ‘like’s’ but in one unique ‘thank you for loving me & reminding me that life is worth fighting for.’
And then we kissed and our smiles fell into each other in some sort of way that finally gives you the ‘aha!’ wonder of what it feels like in the movies.
(You come to find, it’s better than the movies.)
When I first felt that raindrop on my skin, it was as if Heaven was letting me peek through her fingers to see my surprise: a beautiful warm summer shower. My hair began to plaster to my face and your hair only seemed to curl more, as the summer shower turned into a torrential downpour. The sky opened up and boy, did she sing.
It was the moment when you said “you taste like rain” and I burst into a delightful holy laugh that I knew fifty years from now, I would want to remember this moment like it was yesterday.
You said “things can only get better if they change.” So we walked back to the car as tears chased after then raindrops on my cheek. All I could do was let them fall, and thankfully, you let them fall on you. Even as my mascara seemed to trail behind, over my nose, up to my eyebrow, across my cheek, and settling in to your shirt, you didn’t mind; you called me ‘beautiful’ just the same.
But I couldn’t stop it. The fears came just as quickly, spilling out like smoke from my throat- so this, this is what has been choking me- filling up the car, blinding me from seeing truth. But you spoke and where the light is, the darkness can not comprehend it. It was gone.
I saw you only to see me in the reflection of your eyes, an absolute mess but loved nonetheless. Then you pulled me in, a florist with gentle hands (& smiling eyes), leaving with ‘I believe in you, fearless.’