Tag: new poets on tumblr

you moved out of here long ago.
the autumn leaves scrape
the sidewalk and i
remember the first time
you said my name,
the way it rode the October winds.

the windows are open
in your old bedroom.
air in one, out the other,
and I wonder if
any of the molecules
sitting on the
empty dresser have been in
your lungs. my heart
seems heavier than these drawers,
hands searching for
something, anything. your scent
in any form
and suddenly
i am standing
in the cul de sac outside
your driveway, watching you write
to me with the flowers
in your garden; breathy lullabies
of roses,
sweet and rotting.

Autumn // a.s.m

there is something holy
in the lines by 
your eyes. 
heaven exists in between
your front teeth and the way
your lips become
mine. 
there is no room for
perfection
while the sun still shines
and the moon glows–  
we remain within  
light; 
the devil does
not exist here.

heavenly details // a.s.m

take a spoon
to my chest and gather
the seeds; 
make a bed 
for your sorrows. 
i will help you grow
from them, 
i promise. i will help you
turn them into flowers. 
take these torn
up, gouged
out heart parts.
every cavity of
my being is for you.

 // a.s.m

follow me to the end
of the world. 
i want to hear ‘i love you’
echoing off a canyon’s edge; 
your laughter, never ending
in the darkness.
your hand in mine, 
double helixes of fingers
two plants intertwined, 
seeking the same sun.

we have grown into each other // a.s.m

you’ve learned how to pay the bills:
the one thing you’ll always have
that you can always sell. 

and you know the market’s always great
for what you’ve got, so 
put on your slip
and your face, baby,
and don’t play in the mud 
on your way to the corner 
tonight.

lolita // a.s.m

could you feel it beginning 
to fall apart 
when you kissed her lips
under the floral arch? 
it happened so soon, 
he became the glue that bound
you together. 
you’d count his fingers and
toes, so delicate and small. 
you never would’ve guessed they’d
make those holes in the dry-wall. 

you never imagined you’d be here
again; broken glass on the kitchen 
floor, a policeman
knocking at the door. 

there’s a silent melancholy 
song that pours from 
your lips,
like the whiskey you nurse
as they take him away with
his hands behind his back.

cradle of whiskey // a.s.m

Kindred spirit child,
I’ve found home
within your eyes.
Chase stars with me,
catch butterflies
between our palms and
whisper wishes on their wings
before we release them
to the skies.

Kindred spirit child,
I’ve found safety
in your heart:
a delicate collage
of glass and shards
of mirror where I
find pieces of myself; I know
together we have something
beautiful.

spirit child // a.s.m

there’s pressure 
beneath this existence:  
splintering 
the boarded up walls warping
the foundation
providing no security or time 
to ask questions or 
listen for answers.
only to see and know 
what it is to exist. to breathe
what is right in front of you. 
put your ear to my chest
just once before 
it stops beating; 
become familiar with the sound
of the world 
coming to an end.

beside me // a.sm 

the smell of liquor
on your breath and the words
that you hid at the
bottom of the bottle. 
the way you only looked at me
with longing when
your eyes were glazed over. 
a series of mistaken midnight black-outs
that just kept happening
because i still hadn’t learned
the second or third time
around.

everything you feel when you hear your ex’s name // a.s.m