At Leakycon we don’t say “I love you” we say “WE’RE WIZARDS WE’LL PARTY FOREVER TURN AROUND BRIGHT EYES HARRY I’M COMING HOME I...
I have a request
related to a post I just saw about cashiers asking “Did you get everything you need today” or somesuch
my request is this: when...
I have no right to feel your absence this deeply,
to expect your words at a certain time every day,
to expect them to brighten me.
I never had any claim to you.
I just hoped I did.
I shouldn’t have let my heart speak.
My heart has never said anything
that I didn’t regret eventually.
I miss talking in a way that’s not
feet on broken glass.
You always loved the stars.
The night we fell in love,
You wooed my by naming those pinpricks in the sky,
Pointing out pictures of warriors and animals and lovers.
Your eyes were so excited and you looked so happy,
I pretended I could see them too.
why should i be brave
when it only makes me smaller.
why should i offer people
the ventricles in my heart
if they’ll only mar them to pieces.
i can’t take much more of this.
you light me up
like a string of christmas lights
on the winter solstice.
and sometimes when you smile,
i see spots behind my eyes,
like i’ve been staring at the sun.
i can’t help but fear that i’ll hurt you,
that i’ll dim those bulbs in your eyes,
but they’re what i see by.
they’re what keep me
from losing myself in the dark.
and i would do anything
to bask in your rays
for a bit longer.
We were once the aurora borealis,
Shimmering above the night sky,
Our bodies intermingling, our colors blending.
You were the purples, I was the oranges,
And together, we made fire.
But you took the purples away,
The flames too hot and the tundra too cold,
Too much all at once.
Without you I only burn,
Obliterating everything I touch.
I need someone to slow me to embers.
I thought we were the northern lights,
But I was just a spotlight in the night,
And you were just smoke.
you don’t believe that i have baggage,
because i don’t wheel it behind me,
opening it up and handing out
bits like party favors.
i hide mine close to my person,
secured with zipper after zipper.
if i let it free, i imagine
it would consume the entire room,
and would never fit back inside,
and you’ll never get it all off your walls,
or off your mind
or out of your hair.
you have your own burdens.
you don’t need mine caked to your skin.
your signals are mixed,
like vodka and water,
and though it doesn’t
go down easy,
i sip the cocktail
i feel our potential energy in my bones.
you are a hypnic jerk,
a falling sensation.
you are the paint
i use to plaster on a smile,
and the reason
i don’t always need it.
pull the parts i hide
from my chest,
hold them in your palms,
and tell me you are home.
A thousand layers come between us,
And no matter how many hours I spend peeling them off,
You’re always bundled up again in the morning.
You tell me you need retouching,
Blurring yourself so profoundly
That I don’t always recognize you in a crowd.
Your saturation is high, beaming reds and yellows,
Your curves to die for,
But you can’t see it, even when it’s magnified.
I wish I could erase your background,
Render you a new one where you’ve always been loved,
Without the heaviness, one not confined to greyscale.
But all I can do is hold you while you shake,
Bake you sugar cookies and let you dictate the Netflix queue,
And hope that maybe I can add some hue for a while,
Some pinks (#F52887) or greens (#57E964) for a change.
A thousand layers come between us,
But when you shed them,
You are radiant.
You are chocolate-covered espresso beans,
And pages read by flashlight in the middle of the night.
On some days, we’re Lucky Charms marshmallows,
Bass beating in your chest cavity at a rock concert.
But sometimes we’re the smell of wet paint,
The feeling in your feet before you fall down the stairs,
The interminable pod race in Phantom Menace.
And that’s okay.
You tell me that without drops,
A roller coaster is just a track.
You grab my laptop, hold it behind your back, and say,
‘Kenzie, get off Tumblr;
Let’s go outside.’
We are Holden Caulfield gallivanting around New York City,
Scoffing, complaining that the lights are too bright.
The blinking red hands shout at us, begging us to stop,
But we run through the intersection as cars slam on their brakes,
Our laughs grotesque and cold.
Sometimes I wish we could just enjoy things
Instead of mercilessly picking them apart.
We are the jump-kick of justice,
Handcuffing criminals and kissing while police read them their rights.
People assume that you’re the hero and I’m your trusty sidekick,
But I know you see us as equals, partenaires dans le crime.
I get tangled up in your cape, trying not to fall behind.
You keep me on my toes, caffeinated into the night.
(This poem is a response to the 20 Little Poetry Projects writing exercise. Although it does not contain all 20, many remain intact.)
I bought myself a locket today,
In a fit of romance and whimsy.
I got carried away in imagining,
On kisses blown over Skype calls
And tear-stained reunions
And containing the missing you
In a little pendant around my neck.
I bought it because
I could see your face inside it.
It’s rather sad, really.
Your eyes are brimming with life,
Your skies always blue and rarely ever cloudy.
I’m drawn to you,
Not becaue of your eyes or your sunny disposition,
But because I’m genuninely curious
How much it would take to make you like the rest of us,
How many curse words and taken-back I love you’s
It would take to break you,
To take the life from your eyes.