failing and flailing thru this life grasping for your hand but i can’t find it in the dark even though it is clearly right in front of me and you’re waiting and waiting for me to interlace my fingers with yours so that you can keep my head above water for me because it seems that you don’t want me to drown afterall perhaps because you still want to put me back together but how can you even do that when you don’t know where i’ve hidden all the glass and bloody words that used to be my heart you’re collecting them all in a pretty vase but i can never be whole again because somethings will forever be lost some girls will forever be broken and shredded
You give me a glimmer of hope
And I do not believe
It is false hope
Your hands linger when they shouldn’t
Where they shouldn’t
If you’re a little drunk
You’re more honest than you intend
You said you believe in me
I believe you – you were drunk
I thought about hugging you
And you hugged me
As if you knew I was thinking it
We speak without saying words at all
And I close my eyes
And you’re right – I know
You tell me everything
When anyone looking in
Would’ve thought you were silent
i’m the original grass
that wasn’t green enough
and i don’t understand
why you’re singing
one of my favorite songs
but you’re still sleeping
away from home
two nights a week
i’m not the one
and you’re never in love
i’m never honest
and she’ll never be enough
every other line
is a lie
and i’m still broken
still in love
with a backpack full
waiting for you
and i to lay them down
My heart beats faster
Than it should
As i lay next to you
And i notice a change in your breath
It’s ’cause we both know we want more
Than just laying next to each other
And we know we’ll give in
To a certain point
Suddenly your lips are nearly touching
And you make no move to move away
And i ask you if you wish you could kiss me
You take a few nervous breaths
Before you answer-
Yes and more (i’m paraphrasing)
And then we let everything happen
Except the kiss
And everything else you said
it’s like we don’t even speak the same
like we’re strangers
who’ve always known each other
but pretend not to
because being true
telling the truth
we would risk getting hurt
i used to be able to take that risk with
used to let you in
but maybe i did it for the wrong reason
i thought if i let you in
that you would do the same for me
how do i let go
of wanting you to love me?
And suddenly I loved you.
I know I should have always,
I just didn’t though.
You loved me too soon
and I loved you too late.
If only we could have met in the middle.
And suddenly we are finding out what we mean
to each other.
I can’t hear the truth because it will break
I hold on too tight;
teach me to let go.
Do you ever wonder what would have happened
if we could have made it work?
If we really had tried everything?
We gave up too soon, I know that.
And I still wonder if it will be me and you
I have hope.
And I’ll always carry that hope,
in my backpack full of bricks,
that I’ll save because they’re ours
to build on.
I’m strong enough to carry more,
more than these bricks and more than my hope;
tell me everything and I’ll carry your tears
next to your joy.
I hope you wonder about me,
I hope you carry hope.
In reponse to
I hate your leaving footprints in the snow.
*I think I may have expanded this into a longer poem at some point, but I don’t know for sure. If I come across it, I will post and link hopefully.
Tell me about him.
He was sixteen once,
but then again, maybe he’s only ever been
He loves motorcycles.
Ink under skin, all over.
Vaguely remember owls,
the taste of tobacco on his lips.
The scent of bourbon
as he exhales into my hair.
Rough hands rest gently
A motorcycle accident,
I lived it a thousand times
before it ever happened.
“You hungry?” and “How are you?”
Whispers in the middle of the night
that keep holding on.
Promises to our children
that we’ll do the best we can
and then try to do better,
and those same promises
are for me too.
He’s twenty-five, a good man.
It’s like running in the wind and the cool night air.
And I can feel your body-heat between my thighs;
that’s how I know I could never ride with someone who didn’t love me.
The city lights look so beautiful,
and I’ve seen them before.
I’ve seen them before,
but not like this.
Every stop sign, the warmth of the engine escapes into my jacket.
Not everyone who rides dies.
And I guess that’s why
it’s not “ride and die,”
but “ride or die”
because could we ever really live
if motor oil didn’t flow thru our veins?
I wish there was a tape recorder
in my brain so I could capture every thought,
every line of this poem
written on the back of your bike,
terrified, safe, home
on the back of your bike,
bought on accident, bought on credit.
Contrast: the wind rips into me
uninvited, unwelcome, unwanted.
But who ever really wanted the wind?
Maybe the wind is the world’s breath,
reminding us we’re alive,
on the back of everything we’ve ever hated.
And I’m not in love with motorcycles,
just in love with a different part of you.
*NOTE: I wrote this poem sometime around midnight or 1 a.m., 15-ish hours later I was in a motorcycle accident, my very first accident. Do I still feel the same about motorcycles as I did as I wrote this poem? Of course.