Tag: love poem

there are no words that i could write
to fully repaint that summer night:
the grass deep green, the sky blood red
the thoughts of death flooding my head

the ghost of your warm hands in mine
mem’ries of green eyes and lips of wine
the only thing i wanted to do
was tangle myself back up in you

i sat and watched the city lights
the day slowly melting to night
the way the moon shone– like your face–
drowned the city lights in grace

you left no beauty when you went
my mind gone numb, my heart left spent
i lost control, then came the tears
alone with all my greatest fears

those tears i shed, the guilt i felt
can’t change the cards that i’ve been dealt
and with each step your face will fade
one day i’ll breathe without you, unafraid.

it’s true, i still think of you: but i am getting stronger without you and soon you’ll fade // a.s.m

i’ve memorized the words
to every line
on your face. 
i know the notes that play 
in the background
of your mind. 
i know by heart the rhythm 
of your heartbeat. 
i know every single part of the song
you’re living, and
i love it.

you are my favorite song // a.s.m

ice cube 
goosebumps,
kiss me with snowball
lips. melt the ice
stuck between my teeth; 
melt me.
pour me in a pitcher, 
swallow me whole
so i may glide past your heart
to osmotize into
your cells
and never leave.

i just want to be the water in your body; i want you to need me to survive // a.s.m

my heart hangs 
from the ceiling fan; a kite
i never really learned
how to fly.
a bloody carousel
i paid too much
to ride.
an exhibit
to be displayed for the rest
of my life, my remains sit
behind plastic wrap walls
that
leave no handprints,
eternally orbiting
emptiness.

modern art bleeding heart // a.s.m

it makes sense now, you
being born during hurricane season: 
the way your eyes melted
into clouds, 
the way you spoke in rain,
the way you tore apart the ground
beneath my feet
(you made it look graceful, though).
you were my life’s greatest
metaphor,
and you’ve left me
looking for explanations
in every corner.

baby, you’re the first hurricane of 2015. // a.s.m 

When I was young,
my mother used to warn me
not to look right into
the Sun: I could damage my
eyes from the
heat.

The first time I met you,
I could not look directly
into your eyes; I still
can’t.
I’d never expected
to find the Sun
burning
in them.

your eyes bore into me with the intensity of the sun and i do not know what to do with all this heat. i never knew the sun shone through people, too. // a.s.m

my mother asked about you today.
i didn’t know how to explain
that your name
on my tongue is like
novocaine;
that i’ve been waiting so long
for the numbness to
fade.

i still feel numb when i hear your name. // a.s.m

You always used to say if something was meant to be it would happen, and yet I can’t help but wonder if perhaps sometimes we are meant to fight for things to happen.

 to my first love: i’m scared to stand idly by and hope for things to work out between us, because what if they never do? what if i was meant to fight for us? // a.s.m