Category: Poetry

i could live forever
on one drink from the pools in your eyes
and i could breathe forever
if your lungs would give me life
your lips that curl around mine
remind me what it feels like to be kissed for the first time
these same lips that made me feel kissed
for the first time
and when i sighed for the first time
it was your heart, mind
that i loved for the first time
and if i could curl up with you
i would curl up with you and rub your hands
and my feet could nuzzle yours
while our heads fit in together
and we could lie there undefined
until there was a new eternity
and then i hope that i would rediscover you
because i know you from somewhere
and i loved you
and i love you

i am here,
and i’m alone
and i’m waiting for a phone call
and no one will ever call today
because the vintage strip malls
of the city to my east
keep you from the town to my west
and your phone line
is just as good as dead.

i’m here,
and i’m alone
and i’m waiting for a return
and no one’s coming home today
because i’m a slob-fucking-lesbian
and those types are just so hard to love
keep on forgetting
all the love i’ve gave to you
and all that you’ve tought me
you’re just as good as dead.

i’m here,
and i’m alone
and i’m waiting

she just keeps saying things will get better
but i can’t be alone
because if there’s one thing you never taught me,
it’s how to deal.

i’m here,and i’m bleeding
so i must be real.

(you know, the ones you say you love)

i knew that you were like me
i just didn’t know how much
speaking hollow words and drawn out phrases
hoping for so much, you say i’m just a girl
and then you tell me i’m the girl
you want her to think one thing
and for me to believe another.
i don’t believe you but i want to.

are you telling her things you’ve never told me
and are you expecting me not to care
are you justifying it by things i’ve done before and without you
or can we really work it out?
will you tell her that i’m real, i am a person, that i love you
or will you run away

il fait important que nous mouris les koalas parce que les australiens, et les koalas sont mechant!

so now i’ve warned you and i’ve told you how it feels
my words are not beautiful
and maybe you’re just pissed off at me
and you don’t really care for her
but what a beautiful way to rip out my heart.
(that’s how this feels)

i never told you about the time that i was in 6th grade
and at the spelling me,
listening to british chick pop
and thinking about dying, i wanted to die
i want to die
and then i went inside and took thirteenth in a spelling bee

is she trying to take you away from me?
but i can still spell
words like adiction
i spell it m-a-d-e-l-i-n-e
and i want to die again
maybe you could send her my obituary
and proudly say: “hey, she’s out of the way”

they’re all just angry, empty words
and i just want to know you love me

what a beautiful way to break ones heart
letting go into a love so strong
one so strong it will crack your ribs
and hurt your heart directly
if this love bite scars, and you never say i love you again
i’ll call it a battle wound
because i’m willing to fight so hard
but i don’t know the words to write
or i feel like now i can never be good enough.

and it hurts so bad to have it be in question:
am i the best girl?

(you know, the ones you say you love)

i knew that you were like me
i just didn’t know how much
speaking hollow words and drawn out phrases
hoping for so much, you say i’m just a girl
and then you tell me i’m the girl
you want her to think one thing
and for me to believe another.
i don’t believe you but i want to.

are you telling her things you’ve never told me
and are you expecting me not to care
are you justifying it by things i’ve done before and without you
or can we really work it out?
will you tell her that i’m real, i am a person, that i love you
or will you run away

il fait important que nous mouris les koalas parce que les australiens, et les koalas sont mechant!

so now i’ve warned you and i’ve told you how it feels
my words are not beautiful
and maybe you’re just pissed off at me
and you don’t really care for her
but what a beautiful way to rip out my heart.
(that’s how this feels)

i never told you about the time that i was in 6th grade
and at the spelling me,
listening to british chick pop
and thinking about dying, i wanted to die
i want to die
and then i went inside and took thirteenth in a spelling bee

is she trying to take you away from me?
but i can still spell
words like adiction
i spell it m-a-d-e-l-i-n-e
and i want to die again
maybe you could send her my obituary
and proudly say: “hey, she’s out of the way”

they’re all just angry, empty words
and i just want to know you love me

the absence of your last name
makes it easier to hate you in your absence
and love you in your presence

i like not knowing who you are
because i despise the idea of you

because our whole fucking lives,
we’ve been spending all this time
finding religion in a book of words
and abiding closely to the tale
of a white man, of a patriarch, bringing us down
we’re so determined to not fit in with their society
yes we can yes we can just tell me we can!
but we can not single-handedly build a matriarch

if you opened your door tomorrow,
to find me on your doorstep
would you shake me to wake me up
or would you gently rub my shoulder?
would you move me out of the way
or just step over me?

if you opened your door tomorrow,
and my world was black and gray
would you find some colored pencils
or would you yell “fuck off” and slam the door?
would you tell me why i broke up with you
or would you let me feel like you broke up with me?
would you move me out of the way
or just step on me?

if you opened your door tomorrow,
would you look down to see where you were stepping
or would you pretend not to notice me?

i wanted to do so much for you
and for us, but im a failure.
i wanted to learn a song for you
to bring you back, make it all right
you don’t really listen
you don’t really listen
i say it anyway:
i miss you, i love you.

i’m just rambling.
and this is one more sleepless night.

one more sleepless night
one more sleepless night
one more sleepless night
i wanted to call you
but what the fuck?
would you pick up the phone.

they say it gets better with time
but i was angry at him
for causing the damage
that made me like this with you.
i don’t know what that is.
i don’t know who i am.
i don’t know if i should believe you.

my god, you have such ugly words.
i never knew.
but i swear, i thought i knew you

i speak to you in truth
and truth is a double-edged sword
that’s what they told me in church
we were all just sinners there
we’re all so empty here
and i don’t know what to say anymore
your eyes want a meaning,
but i don’t mean it that way
the pen-and-paper sketch books will be my home
my home away from you.

i don’t want to be away from you
anymore

i heard somewhere that if something is worth fighting for
i should fight
and i don’t know if i’m worth fighting for
i’ve been told for so long that i’m not worth anything
i’m just a broken girl
that’s breaking down even more
and no one notices, no one notices
i’m not worth fighting for
i’m not worth the fight
i’m giving up, going down, dying

because hemingway was right
we should fight the good fight
but life is about what is and not about what should be
everyone wanted me dead or gone
and now i am and no one says a word
just send the invitations now
you wouldn’t fight for me
it’s like i gave you the mustard gas
to kill of pieces of yourself
i’m sorry

you’re not the only victim here.