Category: Poetry

i tried to write you a letter
but i couldn’t find the words
only crumpled phrases to die by
and then i wrote you a note
to explain why i did it
but you were already gone
nothing i do matters anymore.

remember the day that you stood on the bridge
with every intention of jumping?
i want to go back to that day somehow and push you
tell you no one would miss you.
i’d never miss you.

remember the song that you sang
to make you believe life was worth it?
i want to go back to that day and strike the band
tell you life isn’t worth it.
you would never be worth it.

remember the kiss you pressed against my lips
when i was looking down at the water?
i want to go back, go back go back to that kiss
tell you that i love you.
i’d never love you.

i fell in love with you in your words
the more of them that you write
the deeper i become submersed
i am submersed in you.

show me what it is to drown

if i lose myself again
it will be in you
and i accept it now
you are who i look up to
so take me while i’m ready
and never ever let me come back again.

i fell in love with you in your words
the more of them that you write
the deeper i become submersed
i am submersed in you.

show me what it is to drown

if i lose myself again
it will be in you
and i accept it now
you are who i look up to
so take me while i’m ready
and never ever let me come back again.

i’m all mushy
and in love with you again.
you roll your eyes as i say again
again?
your one word questions sting a little
like the dot is a dagger-point
and the squiggle is a scar
i never stopped the love part
i just quit being mushy.

you were never mushy.
have i ever told you how much i love your spine.

i don’t know if i should hold you
because i’m so dirty these days i’d smudge on your skin
our bodies aren’t touching
but our bodies were always touching
and this is where i really feel seperate from you
but i had to see your face and you looked great
but i didn’t tell you.
madeline, you were pretty yesterday
and always.

while i’m wondering about touching you
i know that just one touch from you
will send me crashing to my feet
with tears falling from both eyes
and washing blood and dirt from the wounds i’ve created
both for you and for me
then i get my touch on my arm
and i’ll forever remember how you felt:
you’re piercing.

the feeling of your finger against my skin that way
and i’m a puddle, no there are puddles at the ground
where tears fell from my eyes and flooded your bed
so you hold me, you’re alive and your heart is beating
my heart is too but the sobs drown out all the sounds
and for the first time in so long:
i’m alive too.

i write because if i did not write i would die
and if i did not feel that way i would not write at all
and if i could not live through the words that flow out of my fingers
i would not be so terrified to die without my words, without my paper

its in the language that i find love
en anglais ou francais, je me regarde.
its the jumping from angle to angle on a single sheet of paper
or a single screen that i may be happy for one moment
in that blank line between stanzas, my soul sleeps
and where would i be without my words?

its the pause between a line
when there was no comma no period no punctuation (thus no pause)
that my breath stops to interrupt the reader
and poetry is meant to be read outloud
but its just to hush ourselves and silently sooth our souls
with its discipline, with its free spirit;
stop living. start experiencing.
its in these words that i escape.

i am not breaking or invisible
i am strong and permanent while my thought is in seperate lines
seperated occaisonally, by punctuation
i know for sure that i am real
and waiting for my pen to take me somewhere new.
c’est ma facade

perhaps this is the knife to our throats
my eyes closing to find myself afraid to breathe
fear that the knife will move and cut porcelain skin
while you just keep laughing while that love stays in your eyes
and your weapon is so close to me,
as my tears fall they land on the blade
and i feel so scared, so god-damned scared that you’ll slice me
but more afraid that that love will leave your eyes
and you’ll just keep laughing

its all about feeling because we don’t think anymore
our parents are hippies and we’ve been raised to just feel
that’s our problem, that’s our solution to just feel it
and i miss feeling you.

i’m sorry that at one point:
i cared more about my fuck-up mother than myself
i cared more about those who did not love me
than i cared about those who did.
i’m sorry.

i’m sorry that at one point:
i cared more about your sister’s opinion
than i did about your feelings
i cared more about what other deemed right
than i did about what felt right
i’m sorry.

i’m sorry that at one point:
i wasn’t there for you
the way i should have been.

i’m forgetting everything about you
everything i said i’d always remember
is being erased by new memories

you are a manipulative asshole
and i love who you were
but i don’t know who you are,
anymore.