Author: poetryfest

It was already past midnight when she came back home
and put her boots in the fridge
right next to a newspaper from months ago
Twelve months ago. From January.

She had spent the day hiding in cinemas

After washing her socks, she went to sleep

Oh, how she loved sleeping alone in her bed

It meant nobody sweaty beside her

nobody whispering some rich kid’s nonsense

She liked to be with somebody like her. And there was this one city that felt like her. And it wasn’t the city she lived in, it wasn’t the city she came from, and it wasn’t the city her parents came from. She had only seen it once, for about three days.

She often wrote silly little texts that grew into heavy words. And after finishing a text, she always felt like disappearing.

Float away with me, baby
it’s our destiny
God has given you wings to fly
As do I
Have beautiful angel wings in God’s eyes
Remember that time you put your hands in mine
and looked me in the eyes?
Ooh, I wish you were mine
So, float away with me, baby
It’s our destiny
God put you in my path, and he makes no mistakes with me
You’re favored by God
And that’s why you are here
Near
An earth angel like me
So, earth angel, you see
You’re just like me
So, float away with me
It’s our fate and destiny
You see
If you’re just like me
God makes no mistakes with me

I bent over backwards at your demand.
You want nothing more than for me to be better than I am
And as weird as it sounds, to this day, I don’t question this extant.
Though, we both know no matter how much I change you want

Something different,
That’s what you want cuz I’m Different,
I can change what I want,
Won’t make a difference –
Cuz you don’t give a damn.

Even if you told me that we’re even
Could you tell me that it is Eden
That we can imbibe?
And will I be able to
Ask and bear your answer to
‘How am I
In your eyes?’

Take the piss out my clothes, my hair, my face.
I’d love to say that you love me
But even if you did it’s just in your way.
That’s not enough for me, okay?
Hung up on you? –
Who are you
For me to call, anyway?

Again, it’s
Something different,
That’s what you want cuz I’m Different,
I can change what I want,
Won’t make a difference –
Cuz you don’t give a damn.

Even if you told me that we’re even
Could you tell me that it is Eden
That we can imbibe?
And will I be able to
Ask and bear your answer to
‘How am I
In your eyes?’

Beneath the cliffs where shadows play,
The tide retreats, then comes to stay.
So too, our hearts, in ebb and flow,
Pulled by forces we scarcely know.

A glance, a word, a whispered name,
Sets alight this smoldering flame.
Yet storms may rise, and winds may tear,
Testing bonds we thought we’d bear.

The sea is fierce, but still it calms,
Its tempests soothed by steady palms.
So too, in love, the trials we face
Are softened by a tender grace.

You are my anchor, my steadfast shore,
The pull that draws me evermore.
Through winds and waves, I’ll never part,
For you’re the harbor of my heart.

You’d always let me stomp out your cigarettes
or toss them out the window on the highway
while you’d tell me your empty regrets and
whisper plans to skip town by Friday.

You’d put one behind my ear to hold back my hair
and tell me you bought the Reds just because
they matched my lips and the way I look when I swear.

You’d smoke one every night before bed,
and ask if I’d ever wanna let you go
I smiled and told you I’d rather be dead.

You’d leave the buds on the balcony
where we kissed for the very first time.
I’d sit out there whenever the hour turned blue
until I felt your hand in mine, intertwined.

You’d blow smoke to the stars when I wasn’t around,
and stay up for hours on the phone.
We’d talk until we were both in tears
and realize we’ve never felt so known.

You’d pull me in whenever you finished the last one.
I felt the softness of your hands and told you to go,
but you only held me tighter and asked me to wait for the sun.

You’d smell like cigarettes in the mornings,
and count my breaths while sleeping,
You’d always try to convince me that
maybe I’m something worth keeping.

He sits with the curve of his back pressed
against the cold, indifferent brick wall,
where within, among the glaring fluorescent lights
regular people shuffle along with their zombie walk.
The tendrils of chill seep through his torso,
curl about the tips of his fingers as they protrude
from his thinning and fraying fingerless gloves,
and nibble at his toes through the cracks in his worn shoes.
His matted hair gathers in thick branches across his drooping shoulders,
hangs over his eyes –
eyes that have seen the underside of our world,
the side that regular eyes notice not –
blue eyes with cracks of red veins reaching across the white.
Coughing, his lungs a-rattle like the change in his tin cup he shakes in the air,
he wheezes as another real-world person walks out of the store
and begs for change to put food in his belly –
Regular Man turns his head in disgust,
his kind almost always do –
and the beggar drops his cup to his side once more,
waiting for a person, a good person, the right person,
to show him a rarity in his world –
a kindness.

56 miles
to treadbare sneakers
and blisters to friction
and rest
are neither for boys
nor lazy.

They are quality miles.

There’s an aging letter in the drawer of my nightstand
It lays hiding in plain sight
On top of my grandma’s fake pearls
And papers that were lost on their way somewhere else
It doesn’t call out
Just plain white printer paper
And though I always know it’s there sometimes

I can forget
For long periods
It’s everything and nothing.
It’s worth reading every so often
But I carefully push it back into the blind spot.
Dip it into a bath of negative ions
Nullifying any power it may have
While I continue outside the drawer.

It’s written neatly in someone else’s handwriting.
Although it says everything I needed him to say
In near bullet fashion, the sentences race to their end and stop abruptly.
Then another.
It’s everything I told him in the last chapter.
Hell, I hired the counselor.
It’s deja vu or a face you swear you know.
And every so often I take it out and gently look over the dictation,
The guided voice and pen.
And it’s just enough doubt
To stay uncertainly searching
Outside of the drawer.

I can’t help but savor you to bits,
Like an idea wedged between
sharpening teeth,,,

The taste a dreamlike quality
That I suckle on

I long to sink into you
My flesh a mere symptom of yours

… I can’t help but gnaw on
your parts unknown

Your eyes affixed to my heart,
Ragged and raw
And true

Every kiss begins with Kay

Every part of you is sacred

That untamed magic of entanglements
Your mouth, the mouth of the wave washing over my eyes

In its magnificence, can you see it?

Your arm,
Of the clock that ticks me to life

I sop up your prose from where your lips part,
Rising and falling, nectar on your tongue

At the tip of your nose is where my love nests,
Upturned to some god-

Nothing is for certain,
But I’m sure about you

First she’s sour, then she’s sweet,
Sickly, even.

Looking me up and down,
I feel her eyes unthreading me.

You’d be surprised how long a breath can last,
I bow my head.

I’m a slut for wearing shorts and a tank top in the summer,
I should change.

When I emerge in my jeans, and 3 quarter sleeve,
I’m suddenly beautiful and modest in the 110 degree weather.

I just need a hug,
I guess I’ll throw some dirt on it and call it a day instead.

Dirt doesn’t fill the hole..

Maybe a snack would help?
She says I’m bored, not hungry.

So instead, I sip on escapism,
In an attempt to convince myself she’s right.

She is right,
Always right,

Never wrong,
Never misremembering.

Her word is law.

She’s a provider, sure,
Of fear, resentment, adversity.

Smothered in delusion,
She tells me it’s my fault.

What is?
“Everything.”
It is absolute.