#prose poetry
1. Experimentation
2. Neighbor
3. How long does it last
4. Cottage
5. Old growth
i. experimentation
take a scalpel to my veins / with clinical precision / clinical fascination / how deep must i sink to dig it all out / how deep does it rest / lurking / writhing / roots sunk into my heart / lungs / how deep are the gouges left by its claws / step by step hollow the channels / pause and assess / if the vein is gone then will it leave too / if the core is hollow will it wither too
ii. neighbor
The thing that used to live in my veins lives in my home now. It goes to bed beside me, pours itself coffee as I settle at the counter, reads a book while I finish my work. The relief I once harbored, having expelled the writhing mass from my veins, dissipated long ago. Though I expelled the mass it still writhes. It resents me for taking from it its home to build one of my own. So it writhes, and it eats my cereal, and it reminds me again and again and again and again and again that I will never be rid of it.
iii. how long does it last
too long / i’ve already forgotten it / forgiven it / forever / a moment, a moment, a moment
iv. cottage
There are nights where the only way I can sleep is cradled in its limbs, its heaviness draped over me with all the surety of a weighted blanket. These are the nights where the inhabitants of my being give up on tending to me: let the fire burn itself to ash; let cobwebs hang in curtains from the rafters; let fragment after derelict fragment crumble as the rot eats its way out. Let this faltering edifice collapse under its own weight, offering its decaying bones as the last vestiges of safe harbor to an ecosystem that turned its back. To surrender is a familiar comfort, though a small one. To surrender is all I’ve ever known.
v. old growth
tell me a story / there are none to tell / tell me a memory / you know them all / tell me the truth / i don’t make a habit of telling truths / tell me the truth / you would fare better commanding the sky to kneel at your feet / tell me the truth / there was never another outcome there was never a reality prepared for you alone there was only you daring to spread your wings and me clipping the feathers because flight isn’t for people as broken as you whose bones are too brittle to hollow out whose vertigo would knock you out of the sky whose feeble cries would garner you pity in place of the respect you seek you who is too naive to know your own limitations and me who wants only to keep you safe / tell me the truth / there’s no such thing as a happy ending / then tell me a lie / there’s no such thing as a happy ending
What can you never go back to?
dreamless sleep. my hand without the weight of his in it. black coffee and dreary mornings, the relentless insistence that i was okay okay okay
for years i walked with an arm curled around my stomach, protecting the softest parts of me, wearing paperclip chainmail and hoping no one would get close enough to tell the difference. and then he shone a light right through me, exposed all the holes i didn’t know i had and got to work patching them up.
it is easy to explain away the holes if you don’t know you have them. there is less of you than there should be because it’s what you deserve. because you would buckle under the weight of more. because if you are smaller then others more deserving can be bigger. and if your shadow is fragmented, if the wind whistles as it flows through your body, then maybe it’s just your own kind of magic.
but once the holes have been identified, the papier mache excuses peel away and you’re left only with the exposed wounds, and the throbbing of your skin when he brushes his fingers across them. here, i wish this coffee tasted better (and why can’t it?). here, hold me hold me let me shake apart in a way where i can be put together again (go ahead dear, i’ve got you).
where do we go from here? the patching up hurts, even done by hands as gentle as his. but the whistling wind hurt, too, before. perhaps it would be easier to pick up my own needle and thread and join him instead of pulling at the sutures. perhaps it would be easier to let myself emerge.
You said you wanted all of me
So here I am
Darkness
Melancholy
Rage
Why are you walking away?
༄
You know what you’ve done
But to say it out loud
Is too brutal a reality
It would be suicide by honesty
And you are such a coward
༄
I remember a time when
I thought he would change
When I thought that my love
Would take his anger away
What a dangerous choice
I was willing to make
To sacrifice myself for a man
Who could never be saved
༄
I am so tired
It doesn’t matter how much I sleep
The sadness and worry
Are too heavy for me
And everytime I put them down
To breathe a sigh of relief
I hear the sound of fear and anger
Begin to slowly creep
༄
Poetry is my lover
She always let’s me in
To cry
To listen
To confess all my sins
She found me voiceless
Wishing my tears were diamonds
So that I could buy back some time
Her poems come out of my heart
My eyes
My mind
She is so soft
And she never leaves
Thank you
My sweet lover
Poetry
༄
The day will still come
No matter how hard you close your eyes
The night will kiss the day goodbye
Painting colors in the sky
Welcome the darkness
Embrace the light
Don’t fight against the up’s and down’s of life
༄
She became convinced that the measure of her existence hung in the balance.
That the complexity of her calm fell in the number of idle breaths she took a day
That her beauty was a scarcity of times that she glanced at the mirror without feeling repulsed.
She is fragile.
Picking up the broken pieces that were once amassed to create a woman. Beautiful and resolved.
All it takes for such a woman to fall, is the absence of someone to pick up the pieces.
And instead of being her own someone. Her own harrowing warrior.
She fell.
Cracked under pressure.
She was broken. And needed everything she swore she’d never want.
Searched for her own validation in the hands of another. And slowly wept; wilted away into her own self demolition.
She lived shadowed under a blanket of grievances.
They were no longer the materialistic obstacles that used to hoard her time.
The were deep and dark and ugly.
She’s slipping into a black hole of her own creation. In a list for validation to find value in herself hidden in the arms of another. When will she realize that she is the only person that will give her worth. She is the only one who can understand her value. And she must fight to be comfortable in her own skin and bones rather than listlessly searching for a piece of her, hidden in a puzzle of broken souls.
She is fragile.
But she will live. And she will learn to love the pieces that have gone astray, the rounded edges and the bitterness that keeps her up till early hours. She will learn to look into the mirror and be content. She will pick up her own pieces. Put them into place.
She was fragile.
But now she is found.
Pieced together the broken.
And the broken;
Now forever bound.
r.t.
If you want to talk to him: go ahead
Dial his number and press call
But when he feeds you the same lines again be careful not to fall.
Life’s too short to worry.
Does he miss me?
Or did he move on?
But if you find out he does miss you, be careful not to fawn
If you’re still in love with him; that’s okay.
Just protect yourself from the games he plays.
Don’t let yourself break
Don’t let yourself fall.
But by golly if you want to see him, Just call.
r.t.
When you’re gone, every rain drop seems to drown me.
Every shadow casts an immortal darkness
Every glimmer of light seems to scald me.
When you’re gone, all the seasons happen at once and I am both hot and cold. Burning from the absence of your cool composure to soothe me. Freezing without the warmth of your smile to relieve me.
When you’re gone it is both night and day. I am a child scared to death of the darkness cowering in the corner trying to separate myself from the dark that your shining eyes used to transcend. In the daylight I struggle to steer clear of the scalding sun that used to be overshadowed by your cool and calming demeanor. Keeping me under a shadow of clear and blissful protection.
When you are here I am the blooming daisies of spring. Painting a portrait in a brisk and bright meadow. I am a Popsicle melting in the summer heat bright and sweet. A leaf painted with the pigments of fall, gently fluttering to the earth below. The first snowfall of winter crisp and refreshing. A piece of magic a mystery for the mindful eyes of a child sitting idly by the window.
When you are gone I am the thunderstorms that haunt the spring. My tears drench the daisies and leave them suffocated without light. I am the summer child left to stare at my melted ice treat. Left only to be covered in a sticky situation and scolded by my mother who told me not to indulge in sweets before settling down to dinner. An abundance of leaves coving the yard. I must be raked and hidden away. Leaving the yard immaculate. Away from the chaos of missing you. A blizzard that leaves the world hidden away under a thick sheet of ice. Cold and punishing.
When you are here, everything seems beautiful.
When you are gone, everything seems beautiful, except for me.
r.t.
Blank Canvas.
To her, everything meant something
But she failed to find her own
Meaning
Until she dared to see the roses as flowers
And the stars as
Night
Deciphering symbols and mixed metaphors begging the universe to be her masterpiece
the rain came with floods
and the sun came with droughts
And everything had meaning which meant nothing at all.
The torment of seeing everything as an artist
Would paint the trees red and the sky golden
And the day the facade would fall
Was the day she saw the roses as flowers and the stars as night
No more chipped paint people
No more skies stroked with glory
Just a world
That for the very first time was a blank canvas
She planned to keep
r.t.
I said the words I never thought I could
And the weight of the world lifted
Secrets spilled in the front seat of my car
A truth stained that could take me miles
But had up until then kept me stranded
I said the words I never thought I could
And all the fear that plagued me vanished
Secrets I kept hidden from myself
A truth now exposed for someone else
Now I drive with my windows down
I said the words I never thought I could
And I knew that the worlds; all above and below were listening
Secrets fleeting
Truth overwhelmingly seeping from windows, dripping onto chilled pavement, shining in the sun.
A vision I had always hoped to see, that I never thought I would.
All because I said the words that i never thought I could.
r.t.
It’s shallow
But I’m drowning
In a hate so rooted deep
I’m lost inside reflections
An uphill battle that’s too steep
Taught to battle monsters
I keep fighting them with skill
forgot to warn me that the ones inside
were not okay to kill.
r.t.
“It’s whatever”
He said with tears in his eyes
He hid away
Broken.
I didn’t fall for his lies
His parents drank often
He promised himself he wouldn’t
I told him to stay strong
He told me, he couldn’t
He got home from school
Everyday exhausted
Nobody realized his strength
Until one day he lost it.
For him to inhale and say yes one more time.
To a life he was robbed of
The most complex of crime.
He sat in class silent,
But when asked he would spill
Because all he needed
Was someone to listen and be still
He’d tell them his story
The one he told me
And they’d watch amazed at the new depths they’d see.
A boy who was strong
A boy who was clever
But when concluding his tale
He’d just utter “it’s whatever”
r.t.
I bought a houseplant last month
small, unknowing; it’s a new beginning for us both
my love, he used to tell me I had the worst green thumb
that I over-water and over-trim the leaves
you care too much he’d whisper
I used to believe that too
Today my plant sprouted a new flower
joining her various sisters into this strange world
and I wish I could show him how wrong he was
he never watched me bloom this way
never took the time to water my leaves
or appreciate how well I’m growing
I’m starting to understand that maybe
he didn’t know me as well as he said he did
he never did// hnl 2018
the castle on the hill crumbled for good this time and it’s not my fault
no matter how much you tell yourself it is
nothing is ever invincible, not even us
no matter how much we convinced ourselves nothing could ever break us
no matter how many times we rebuilt what we’d lost just to watch it come crashing back down
sometimes i visit the lake we use to go to when one of us sad or when we wanted an excuse to smoke our lungs black or drown our livers in the alcohol we weren’t old enough to buy yet
i think about all the things we left behind and how a tiny piece of me would give anything to have it back
but darling we have taken this too far to bounce back this time
the castle on the hill came crashing down
and i refuse to go tumbling down with it.
we will be remembered, as we should
the whole of this god forsaken town already knows the story of us
people i’ve never seen before in my life still say your name when they find out mine
does it kill you knowing that they know everything?
because i cannot live with the whispers behind my back anymore
how do you like everyone knowing our secrets? our broken promises? everything we ever whispered behind closed doors when we thought no one could hear us?
did you know it would end like this?
maybe we both knew we’d go up in flames from the start
maybe we chose to ignore it
maybe we both deserve all of this
