Tag: random poem

the best time to write is when
i’m sorry or sleepy because
the words flow unapologetically–
they do not try so hard to sound good.

there is a drum in the front of my brain,
and I don’t know if it’s
because of the rain or the way
the dentist drilled my gums today.

it is empty in the house, but too loud
with my mother’s anxieties,
and the air is heavy with tears
that are shed once the lights go out– 
shed like room for growth and
thicker walls– 
shed like hair, like skin,
to make room for
something new and healthy and strong.

what do we shed with our tears?
our weakness? our pain?

what do we shed with our tears? // a.s.m

slip dreams into my drink tonight 
so i may write you poetry 
from the skies within my mind. 
knock down the dams and let the water flow 
from the nerves in my brain,
through my veins,
out my hands, onto this page.
twist your fingers between mine
and pull me back down when i get too high.

a.s.m

I’ve always had strong sea legs and 
a need for perpetual motion.
When I was young I’d stand at the edge
of my father’s boat
and let the waves sway me as they
kissed the hull. The ocean’s child,
she’d rock me to sleep
with sea foam kisses and promises
of serenity.

And when I walked
on the solid ground that
nailed my feet into this planet like a crucifix,
I’d hear no promises of the ocean’s serenity.
I’d put my ear to sea shells just to hear her
whispers, but
I could no longer fall asleep at night, no
matter how much
I rocked myself to and fro.

But last night, as I lay
my ear to your chest, I heard
promises of peace
in the ebb and flow of
your breath. I saw the calm to come
after the storm I have become, and I think
I’ve been waiting my whole life for the ocean
to find me through you.
The way you hold me and rock me like
the waves do;
after years of insomnia, I finally fell asleep.

i’ve been waiting my whole life for the ocean to find me through you. // a.s.m

i tried, i tried
so hard not to
step on your toes, even though
sometimes i felt like
you’d intentionally poke them out
under the crack of your door to see if
i might do it anyway.

i tried so hard to
make sure
you had room to breath;
that when you looked over your shoulder
i wasn’t always there. even though
sometimes all i wanted to do was kiss you.

i let you breathe.
i let you breathe without me.
and i think you realized that
sometimes the air is fresher when you’re alone.

a.s.m