enjoying things as they are
my defenses are melting, like sugar over tea
i have a one-way ticket to every sappy young woman’s dream,
so i’m closing my eyes and enjoying it,
enjoying things as they are.
the baby’s breath you bought me, are drying by my bed
you’d think I’d throw those things away by now, but I like the reminder of you instead,
so i’m closing my eyes and enjoying it.
enjoying things as they are.
the warmth of your care and the warmth of your heart
i’d sit with your in silence, i’d hold you in the stars
and i’m closing my eyes to enjoy it,
enjoying things as they are.
stepping stone
i’m the stepping stone to your radiant future
the guilty figment of your past,
you covet me gently in guilty arms
while you tip the hourglass
i’m the encyclopedia of your soul
i worship the divine libraries of your mind,
burdened with your words engraved in gold
& films of tarnished memories i can’t turn blind
i don’t take your blasé disposition lightly
and i’ll hate myself vehemently in the desolate silence of your pauses,
but to feel the soft spark your presence enflames
i’ll be home soon my love, and undermine the causes
wrap my deep wounds in your flimsy bandaids
your bullets are comforting and sweet,
she’s everything i long for when i look in the mirror
she’s the dream-laced standard i couldn’t beat.
i was the stepping stone to your radiant future
now the guilty figment of your past,
my broken heart trapped in sunset amber
wishing you told me i was replaceable.
wishing you told me i was never meant to last.
unwatered heart
the fairytale of being yours
is merely an echo of an unwatered heart
and though your words drench me in hot apple cinnamon
the meaning is quick to depart.
the ”I love you’s” are soft, but unforgiving
your love waits, i linger desperately
warm by the fire, but only an object of desire
clinging to what used to be me.
my fulfillment was mindful artistry
now it’s serving myself on a platter
your adoration fit snug in my pocket
flattery that achingly mattered.
my words are tainted with dramatic irony
knowing how the story will always end
as i hold onto you for the “very last time”
over and over again.
the fairytale of being yours
is merely an echo of an unwatered heart
i sip on our memories fondly
i place down the glass to start.
sunshine vaccine
the sunshine that once was
was tubed in a plastic vaccine
injected forcefully
by the hands of a mass movie scene
until their eyes were awake
to sunflowers and cranberry perfume
you had smiled at the people
but it felt like no one smiled at you
so you went back for an extra dose of cheer
maybe this time it will be you they will hear
maybe you’ll forget the pain
it could last for a year or a day
and you’ll forget all the sad parts
as the genuine slowly wastes away.
too bad all the organic laughter was lost.
too bad the whole world has to pay the cost.
but look at us now, we’re smiling.
regret underneath keeps piling.
the sunshine that once was
was tubed in a plastic vaccine
now injected by choice
as they decided
they’d rather not be seen.
sucks
it sucks to know you didn’t suck
the whole time I thought you did.
turns out you’re a stand alone character
like a gmo pure boy hybrid.
unattached by gnarly roots underground
holding formalities and filters galore
you send me glances across vacant masks
a rainbow when life’s a bore
it just sucks i know that now
now that it’s much too late
that i passed you with uniform judgement
when you were one to appreciate.
blue-collar father, white-collar son
After an endless day of working in the miserable heat, Russell drives his son, John, to a quiet area just off the road where he would be picked up to go to a prestigious state university. The silence filled the muggy air surrounding them as the rundown, hefty truck slowly inched to a stop, and they both, without speaking, headed out to unload the luggage as their beloved dog, Buddy, pranced happily behind. When the last suitcase was carried out, Russell plopped down lazily on the running board, John sitting up straight beside him as they gazed at the blank space around them, determined to avoid eye contact.
Although the environment was undoubtedly uncomfortable, Russell caught a glimpse of his dashing son, dressed properly in a pristine white suit on the brink of his college career, and couldn’t help but be proud. He glanced down at his blue-collar work uniform, stained with the frustrations that came with his years of labor, and knew in his heart he did it all for this moment, all for John. His son now has the opportunity to be a white-collar man in a white-collar world.
“So, uhh.. how you feelin’ about all of this John,” Russell grumbled in a deep tone that was difficult to understand.
“Good, good,” John muttered back softly.
“Good,” Russell mumbled, continuing to stare into space. He wasn’t one for talking.
Buddy skipped to where the two were sitting and put his head solemnly on John’s leg, as if to say ‘goodbye’.
To ease the tension, Russell popped in a cigarette from his pocket, thinking about his own future, thinking about the great things his son would accomplish. John heard it first - the rumble of his ride coming into view - he popped up his head to look at it, quickly realizing the newfound respect, class, and honor that was coming his way.
Monday
listen to the chimes of the wind
as they sing to you
Monday
Monday
Monday
the bells of the whistles
every blossom every thistle sways to
Monday
Monday
Monday
The air senses you’re feeling down
The sun rains down to you tomorrow, smiling
Monday
Monday
Monday
Today is your day prove it to the
Bumble bees, green grasses, waterfalls cheering
Monday
Monday
Monday
It’s just another day, with an unbreakable stigma
Start of a routine, start of something exciting and new
Monday
Monday
Monday
eye contact
it stings, burns wildly
an accidental glimpse at the sun
dart pupils away quick, swiftly
a habit, a reflex to encounter none
survival of the frickin fittest
i feel their gaze looming sideways
i stare down at a black screen of nothingness
(Act natural, scrolling as if to say - “hey that’s cool” - pathetically played)
i would rather look at
the dusty concrete
the mocking screen of “no notifications”
and my own two feet than
look up!
look up!
just look at them! wave! look up!
no thanks.
and then they’re gone.
i am myself, a talking embarrassment
i fear the attention i would attract
so i stare at the abiotic vast spaces
too anxious about making
EYE CONTACT.
deadly butterflies in her stomach
go to sleep, go to sleep
afraid of day and night
anxiety burns, broken ash
lost of sense, blinded sight
sunset orange butterflies
flittering folded wings
habitat of a pitted stomach
the lovely nightmare sings
eyes tinted bloody red, cracks
under shields of wrinkled lids
she tries to float to dreamland
keeps replaying what she did.
hearts pounding, brains taunting
the knife she held the day he died -
no one knows, a secret for herself
but how long could she hide?
...
go to sleep, go to sleep
afraid of day and night
anxiety burns, broken ash
lost of sense, blinded sight