Poetry Edition III
shapes i don’t want pain to spell out your name, and i don’t want the curve of your legs to carve out hurt. i don’t want to associate you with what you did to me, and i don’t want your harsh voice to remind me of just how soft it used to be. i don’t want the strength in your arms to scare me when before i was in love with them around me, and now i have to live with their ghosts on my skin. do not let me fear those phantoms. changes i hated myself for lying and now i’m an open book. i thought i was too mean and now my kindness hurts me. i wanted to be there for others so i purposefully practiced empathy. you said you were scared of me getting too drunk so i closed my bottle. you said you wanted to be alone more so i let you have your space. i’ve done so much to grow for myself, and i would’ve done even more to grow for you; to compromise. to love with the understanding that people are never perfectly compatible, but that meeting in the middle nurtures beauty. boys because now i get excited whenever a guy so much as recognizes billy joel & i lean in when a man says “empathy,” i still get turned on by history and the coast but i realize some of these things are because of you. i would’ve never realized how much i loved hugs goodbye, how much i love quick replies and how i like the adoration in his eyes though we just met. i still tend to the ways you marked me but i maybe need a new pair of arms to help me heal, i perhaps need a man kind of like you, but not really, i need him emotionally mature with stars in his eyes and i need him to pay me attention just like you did in the beginning. let’s hope he does not mark me like you did. west coast so when we’re 45 & everything that’s supposed to make sense doesn’t, when we’re on opposite sides of the country, in the reality that you created, and life feels like it will do nothing else but keep fading, think of me. think of how i would’ve held you on soft sheets & faced both of our hells and everything that crushes you would’ve been lifted by my devotion. think of how i would’ve stood by your side in your most saturated blues and longest nights, just as i would in your most vibrant yellows and warmest summers. remember the look in my eyes as we stood dancing, drunk and devoted, as we pulled each other closer because everything made sense in that moment. think of how we could’ve stood dancing in our living room at 88 and 89, thanking the stars for never letting us let go. but in the dank reality of cold beds and you favoring independence instead of the love i’d give you until past your dying day, we’re apart. we’re gone. you took us and beat us against a cold brick wall because you want to be forever alone. misplaced hopes i want that “damnit i missed you” kinda night, that “thank god you’re back” kinda night. that “i forgot you looked this good in sunlight” week, that “i’m not as tired as i used to be” week. i want that “let’s not remember the time we weren’t together” kinda month, that “i want to make this work this time” kinda month. that “i never want to leave you again” kinda year. 11 Tiny Poems 1. i wish i was the one walking into that dorm building with you. i can feel that chance slipping, i love the summer air, but i know you’ll never look my way in the heat. 2. i’m the first one to laugh at the joke, the last one to leave the party. the first one to say i’m sorry, and the last one to hold onto a grudge; so i’m the first one to get left. 3. it feels like wherever i walk something always follows me. how long will you be my shadow? 4. i started crying at the thought of you crying. 5. how do you not remember the good times? 6. a piece of me died in july: some piece, a beautiful piece; drown me in a goodbye. 7. just because i forgave you doesn’t mean just anyone else would. 8. why do i get the feeling that if i died, you wouldn’t even cry? 9. i don’t want to die but when i had you, i used to want to live forever and now that just seems like torture. 10. i miss when i thought you’d miss me. 11. i wanna dance with you again, wanna not worry and just move with you. i wanna feel an empty cup in my hand and your arms around me. loud music, bright lights in a dark room, it’s sweaty but all i’m focused on are your brown eyes.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Stories of Our Century to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.