I write
Poems
When I can’t sleep
As if I could
Write myself empty
As if I haven’t
Tried this trick
A million times
Already
All I end up with
Are trillions of love letters
Unsent
Author
I write
Poems
When I can’t sleep
As if I could
Write myself empty
As if I haven’t
Tried this trick
A million times
Already
All I end up with
Are trillions of love letters
Unsent
The guy comes to the counter and after
asking for coffee
and complementing my skin
he asks me out.
Somehow I am not fazed by this Maybe
even a little flattered although
he is entirely too old for me and
even if he was young and attractive there’s
no way I’d say yes and maybe
it’s because I’ve turned down handfuls
of guys in my sleep so why would being
awake be any different?
(Just last week I turned down the creepy
guy with the gauges at the gas station refused to
shake his hand He’s lucky he didn’t get a
kick between the legs for his trouble I’d spent the
afternoon crying missing you and
anyway guys should know better than to be creeps)
When I give a little laugh and hesitate searching for the
right half truth he guesses I have a
boyfriend and I say I’m
involved with someone and yes it’s not the
whole truth but it’s not a
lie either When you
think of someone every day and never
Want to love any other you can’t say you’re
not involved can you? It’s the
biggest reason to turn him down although him being
thirty-three is a close second even though it is
nice to be noticed especially because half the time I don’t even
notice myself until my heartbeat goes
haywire just to remind myself that I’m still
here
He takes his coffee but comes back asking
how late he is and I say it’s complicated and he asks
how and I think Heck whatever he’s a complete
stranger and say Atheist and Christian and he’s like
you deserve better and I want to say how
do you know what I deserve? Want to say
you don’t know him But instead say
that’s what my mother says
And he lists Christian credentials like they’re
badges he’s earned Raised in the faith Go to this
church Sing in the
choir And I want to say
I don’t care about these nothings You can do
all of these things and not believe You can do
none of these things and still believe The fact you
think this is so important simply means
arrogance to me
He quotes the verse There is nothing new under the sun
He says that it’s inevitable that nothing will change that hasn’t
already changed I hate that word five syllables only
used when people think
there’s no hope They have no idea what a beautiful burden
hope actually is They have no idea how
much more lonely they make this
path I have chosen for myself that every
breath is a choice
At least when he leaves he doesn’t ask
for my number
And I’m left cleaning out the espresso machine feeling like maybe I’m
radiating lonely not just my summer tan and I
wouldn’t be surprised
Just because I can’t
feel anything doesn’t mean that no one
else can hear the distress signal shrieking from my
bones except maybe you
It wasn’t meant for anyone else anyway
I’m dreaming.
I can’t remember what you smell like.
That loss is no dream.
But in my dream
I steal a long-sleeved t-shirt from your drawer
(I somehow live across the hall)
in a rush, like a criminal.
In the dream, we’re still not talking.
The smell isn’t quite right
(even dreaming me knows it’s not yours)
but it’s something.
In the dream, you discover it’s gone
and I’m immediately, irrevocably embarrassed
and sneak it back, draping the sleeves
over the dresser drawer knobs.
Morning light tugs at me in the real world beyond
I begin to float upward toward consciousness
but not before my dream self hopes
you’ll understand
and bring it back to me to keep.
I am a summer child with long brown hair
lightening at the tips
I am a summer child with dark Arab skin
wisps of sun-bleached blond on strong arms
I am a summer child with bare feet and the laughter
of the river when it runs cold and high and wild
I am a summer child who hears peace in the music of the breeze
who only glimpses freedom in the conversation of the arching corridor of the trees
I am a summer child who’s had
winter in her heart for long, long months
two summers come and gone and still
her heart has not thawed
what happens to this summer child when
winter slithers closer again
heartbreak in every falling leaf
your shadow looming close once more
near enough to touch but not
to hold?
what happens to the summer child who
takes to her bed, sleeps away
the hours, refuses to see
her mother, shuts away the dinner
smells, listens to Julien Baker in her headphones until
dark falls and then again and three a.m. until
sleep cradles her, as long as it is willing
she will take it, and then silently waif through
a world that seems too bright
yet with no color?
The summer child feels the ice spreading.
The summer child always knew it would.
The summer child knows it would be easier to be
a winter child, someone who could
accept endings for what they seem to be and
look forward to spring’s new thaw
but she knows she wouldn’t be a summer child
if she could do this
knows she wouldn’t believe in
the impossible power of love
and someone please tell this summer child that there’s
hope for a hopeless summer child
and her hopeless icicle heart
after all.
the look in your eyes
keeps me at arms reach.
I can’t read you anymore.
my body feels the impact of sight
disorienting lightness like all
my molecules evaporate leaving me
behind
but my heart is simply stunned
wanting too much, hurting too much
to feel anything at all.
you were always the one
good at shutting out
pushing away
deciding it’s over.
I was always the one
pressing in closer for better or worse
the one who followed
you around the month we weren’t
talking just to see you every day.
I learned things from you that you never
wanted me to learn.
now I shut out.
shut down.
shut up.
I never write you off but have a
whole list of other nevers that keeps
growing by the day.
you are everything and that makes everything else
mean nothing
makes me want to believe there is
nothing behind the universe and yet I
can’t even though it almost
kills me
and I can do nothing
and the nothing in your eyes makes me feel like
nothing too
like maybe I mean
nothing to you
and I wish I could just
become nothing
because that would be easier
than this.
Sitting up here in a single chair
lips grazing cool microphone
fingers seeking familiar shapes
on steely vibrating strings
digging into my skin.
Up here I am allowed
to speak.
Up here I am allowed
to feel.
Up here I am allowed
to have my story.
Allowed to grieve.
To hope.
Up here I am myself. And someone else.
Up here when I open my mouth I sing
for you.
I sing like you’re in the room
watching me.
I sing like the melodies ripping from my throat–
unshed tears just a tremor
buried fire felt in the rise of melody–
could mean something to you.
Could convince you of the worth of love.
Could convince you of the truth
behind the unfeeling stars.
first it was a single street
then it was a river
then a state line
then words
and then oceans
and finally
silence.
but in the end it has always been
belief
in what is possible
and what isn’t.
sometimes when I sleep I dream
of boys.
they never look the same but they always
want me.
I never want them back but always
want the unloneliness that comes
with arms that reach for me.
inevitably the moment arrives
when we get too close–
they try to kiss me
or ask me a question
or love me
and I have to say–I’m sorry.
my heart only has room for one boy.
I’ve already got a name
tucked inside.
I know there are many boys I could love
that could love me
perfectly good boys that I could
say yes to.
never fear, I am perfectly aware my dreams
are ridiculous.
no gaggle of boys would ever line up
to see me.
but the truth still remains–
the only thing between me and unloneliness
is myself.
and I will always
always
say no.
the fallen queen enchants
cupid’s arrow meant to lead to love
to do the opposite–
lead her to the one she most hates.
razor golden tip turns to wicked black.
she nocks the arrow, lets it fly
fly, fly, through the silent forest
through the stillborn air
through the doors of her castle
stabbing the silver mirror
cracking her reflection into a million shards.
I am the queen.
I am the mirror.
I don’t need an arrow to tell me
who my heart hates most.
I shouldn’t miss you anymore
but I do
I shouldn’t be afraid anymore
but I am
I shouldn’t have dreams anymore
but they come
I shouldn’t hold hope anymore
but it persists
I shouldn’t cry anymore
but I can’t help it
I shouldn’t plead anymore
but I pray on
I shouldn’t look anymore
but there you are
I shouldn’t love anymore
but I’m me