Your slouch says it all
and the way
you wear your hat
in your hands
like something condemned
or a color
you cannot remember.
Words
cannot chase you here
or follow
in the footsteps
of people
whose faces vanish
like purgatory
and pictures
torn from wallets.
Sounds
will not echo
or move
through your sleep
of tears
in blind comfort.
And no song
that bleeds your name
across the pillows
and leaves you falling
like dreams
that slipped through winter...
The Thing About Cliches by summernightangel, literature
Literature
The Thing About Cliches
I.
If this were a cliché,
A poem, or both
It would be about sparkling midnight skies and heartbeats and flowers and sex.
There would be oceanic eyes and rain that tastes like tears. Well throw in anxiety-riddled murmurs and metaphorical bullets and allusions to sharp objects for pity.
This is not a cliché anymore.
So instead I wrote about the flavor of emerald and the fragrance of April hope. I painted pictures of a perfect pencil, poised over a blank page.
II.
If this were a romance,
A message in a bottle, or both
It would still be cliché, to capture electric fingers and longings locked away with skeleton keys
True Love is not something that can be defined in a sentence. It is as strapping as much as it is unconditional, comforting as it is reassuring, powerful as it is everlasting, and anything but superficial. It is simply wonderful. Supposedly, the best things in life are free; if only that were true. True Love takes sacrifice, persistence, and patience caring and endurance most of all, acceptance. To want the best for someone, to be there when you are needed, and to give anything towards what you believe in takes all. It is not true when it is not genuine. I say this to all women and men. To truly love is to give your heart, your sp
you tell me that everything has a time limit on it; friendships, days, moments, love. everything is limited, you say, so we might as well rush, run. because it's all going to end anyway, right?
so i started to notice the time stamps painted on your hands, the calendars written all over your heart. i started to wonder, how much time do we have left? how many more held hands, secrets, inside jokes, i love you's? how many more?
i wondered and ran,
ran through the forests without smelling the scent of after-rain. i ran on the darkened streets at midnight without noticing the streetlights, passing lit houses of friends and the sounds of laughte
i am only just thirteen. he is sixteen. i am in love/lust/crush.
my best friends big brother, or friends ex boyfriend, is tall. once or twice i imagined kissing him. but he never would. he is friends with the boy who is sixteen. and besides he is my best friends big brother or my friend's ex boyfriend. and i am not a bad person.
i am tall too, you know. i am stretched skyward but there was no more to stretch, just bone. so i am not really that tall at all. but i pretend i am. how tall are you? oh above average, you know, pretty tall.
the brother says want to come and see j? and my heart leaps and i sing yes but he only hears a nod and ther
she smokes marlboro cigarettes with the bedroom door locked. i taste it on her breath, lips and skin everyday after school. her bed is a mattress on the floor. sometimes we make love on it and i wonder if she'd rather have her mouth around a cigarette than me right then. she has asthma too.
she is my second cousin. i didn't know this until two years after we began fucking and three years after i fell for her. i don't think it really matters. emily says if i ever made her pregnant she'd make me punch her in the stomach, heavy and hard. but i never would you know, i love her.
the smoking is killing her. i hid the cigarettes beneath the sink,
my mind replays
memories of us
each night, and
i am lost, lost
lost
in the shadows of
your eyes, the curve
of your almost-smiles,
the lullabies in your
voice, the sound of
your footsteps.
don't wake me up
just yet.
.
i told you that
i would change, that
i'd paint the sky violet
for you, that i would
miss you, and i could
catch you a rainbow,
or a heart beat,
or star, or a smile,
or whatever you want,
but 'whatever you want'
was not me, and
i was never enough
to make you stay.
.
all i ever wanted
was for you to say
'i love you',
but i guess
some things
are better left unsaid.