[x]

sleeping dogslet sleeping dogs lie-
do not reach out &
touch his dreaming face,
do not lean close to kiss
his shuttered eyelids;

wait for him to wake &
let time pass
until it is time to love him.

let him rest his weary head
on the arms he wears at home,
cold boston winds
telling him when the
next train comes;
& when he must sleep
in a rusting missouri,
wish him the sweetest dreams.

let sleeping dogs lie
& drift between sleep & awake,
missouri & boston & virginia.
let him sleep unencumbered
& be there endlessly
until it is time to love him.

personificationi am a whisper no one else can hear.
yes, your butt looks huge,
yes, he will leave you
if you tell him how you really feel,
and no, you are never enough.

just because only you can hear me,
it doesn't mean i am any less real.
i will tint everything you see
like a pair of cheap sunglasses
with one lens opaque
so that you cannot see anything clearly
and your perception is skewed.

i am in the pilot's seat
and you will be mine
the second you let your guard down.

your heartstrings will connect my piano strings
as i hammer them down and knot with pain;
i will break you to your knees
and hit them to the pavement
like a child in the

the vomiting crowd of coney islandthe destructive walls are shaded
in grey and i am remembering
every feeling i have forgotten-

i am terrified.

this is a city that never sleeps,
the bones of my chest thrumming
like taxi cabs in the streets,
my fingers shaking
in want for comfort and solace
and love.

i am not standing
in lorca's vomiting crowd-
i am his vomiting crowd,
looking high and low
and between my clenched fists
for catharsis and purification,
for the reason of this illness
pressed against my skin,
for the indefinable sickness
i drown in like bubbles of spit
day in and day out.

i fear the restraints
i've placed for myself,
that they may not be the

the commutei keep your kiss
under my bed:
i won't lose it
just because you aren't here.

instead,
i will hesitate in the spaces
between the weeks
we are together,
and we are
apart.

i will write you letters
and gaps and commas
when my head stops spinning
and my pride takes a bow
to the lion of my heart,
and feel the stinging air
of imagination
seep out of its balloon.

put your (love) affairs in order, dear
and find me under your blankets;

i want the places i know best
to be the ones made of skin,
secretly tucked away
in the crook of your elbow
where my body rests, or
behind your ear,
like a pencil-

i want you to write me words

my first drunk poemwriters write whilst drunk
because every word
fumbled and smisspelled
comes out beautifully
because of the truth it holds

my ear bleeds from constant burns
and my stomach burns from constant bleeds
because beauty is never enough untouched, it seems,
the way anything i put in me is always too much.

i bled and evoked sympathy tonight.
i drank until i needed a body to stand me straight.
my organs writhed like heathens in moonlight ritual
and i let it shake.
i shook to be honest
but i was never honest enough
to admit from where the vibration came.
i shook with fear
and trepidation
and loneliness
and never, ever being adequate

things i don't know about you that bother me thati wonder what it's like
to fall asleep beside you
in a post coital haze,
and to wake in the morning
to run to class.
do you wake me,
do you kiss my forehead,
do we make love again-
i don't know,
not yet.

and do you wet your toothbrush
before applying toothpaste,
oh,
tell me you don't leave the sink running,
it must get awfully tired.

and what do you dream of
when i lie next to you,
blissfully more than just a body;
what will you dream of
a year from now?
please tell me i can fit into
your big picture
as easily as i can fit into
your arms,
eternally.

barcelona is burningi owe you an apology-
you, in the crowd,
the one panicking about reading
or the mess at home
or the sheer volume of people
pressing into you like corners;

you,
the woman who birthed me into this world
through hours of agony
as though that wasn't enough
because doctor appointment after therapy appointment after residential stay after thirtieth pound lost,
i've put you through countless
sleepless nights
warped into months of agony
you never asked for;

and you, oh, mostly you.
you, because as hard as i've beaten my own heart into the wall,
and as deep as i let you bury mine,
i know, somehow, i managed to do the same to you.

yo

unending, ceaselessnothing exists
better
than the moment
hesitant
anticipatory
of entrance
entranced
by the sway
porch swings
of hips
how pendulums
tick

and we talk
murmurs
until taciturnity
takes hold
of each others' tongues
and gasps
sudden
cause gaps
in the connection
unbreakable
as unity
unties
only to retie
in ceaseless
reunion
again.

a letter to ethanyou're fifteen minutes away.

that's a quarter of an hour, that's ten miles, that's space enough that i never have to see you again.

but still i feel my heart beating like a rabbit's foot against my rib.

look.

i'm a girl still in denial
of being a woman with
breasts and hips and a womb.
i'm a child with my heart and i will surrender it foolishly
to the first boy to give me roses and push them into my hair.
i don't know how to love,
the way i don't know how how to stop.

but let me tell you this- it happens.
they both do.

i loved your fragile brown eyes like i'd never seen a warmer fire.
i sank my bones like an anchor to

scattered grassrootsi am the great plains-
vast,
barren,
and sparse.

i begin losing my hair and
scattered grassroots
define me.

i am tumbleweeds lost in the wind,
tumultuous dust storms
from the dryness i leave you in.
this becomes my skin.

i miss having someone
to tell i love,

but the ache it left in my bones,
deserts and sands,
is reminder enough

that fond remembrance
doesn't mean it's
there.

alpengloweverything hard-kept in the heart is falling onto paper. each word so well-fought to be kept within the chest becomes a snowflake from november skies, but the winds are unseasonably warm and a fire is kindled inside each bone in place of a bitter chill.

there are ten thousand things i can never tell you.

the way that wars are fought, i wage battles among my selves to keep the quiet. you will never hear my voice, too soft like the pillow beneath your head each time our bodies find each other, say how my breath becomes a porch swing when we touch and i sway.

i can never call you by any name, given at birth or given by heart. you will neve

constellations are just bodiesyou left me in my bed-
i was crying-
when you walked down my stairs
for the last time.

you were to spend the night-
you lived hours away-
until you told me
you couldn't do this
anymore.

i was fine-
you were just a constellation-
until your words
forced images of my last love
before my mind's eye.

i cried before you-
i hadn't cried in months-
but i didn't cry for you.

in retrospect, as you closed my door-
it was the last time-
my only thought is
why didn't we fuck
before saying goodbye?

across, a crossi like the things that go unspoken
between you and me,
like the night we spent on the beach
lying cramped on a shitty, five-dollar walgreens towel
with another frayed over us,
and hearing the string
of intoxicated teenagers walk by and say,
look
they're watching the stars at night.

and no matter how much that girl,
clearly filled to her brim
with vodka as she tripped along the sand,
lacked eloquence,
she spoke something more beautiful
than a van gogh painting.

we were romance, we were god,
and i know i must believe in god
because of the feeling building in my bones
when i see those "jesus saves" signs,
black with white let

christmas doesn't have to be lonelythis is the first christmas
i have not spent alone;
when i have had arms,
sand-specked like the beach
and as encompassing as it is
to my body (of water, my ocean),
waiting to hold me
and steady my waves

there will come a day
that i am so fully loved
that the effulgence mimics and empty room
until entered,
and the engulfing fire
exudes the warmth missed
in the winter snow
in which i am kissed

this is the year
that my endless yuletide wishes
have been made.
this is the year i am christmas lights,
glowing,
warm
and loved
(again and again and again)

the saturday after your birthday is where i foundbefore you there was an incessant need to be touched
but for no longer than the time it took to touch, sweat, and moan
and never by the same hands twice;
for vacancies to be filled
and to never have an empty bed when sleep finally came.

when i found you it was dark and i was drunk.
it wasn't a story built for the centuries,
but we will be the lovers whose names are remembered for the years to come,
tied and woven in song and into the bodies of trees, we will be so in love
that the angels above will cry in jealousy because in my haze,
heavy and raw and with everything burning inside me, i'm afraid i fell in love that night.

being

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More from *ohsostarryeyed

indian summersleepy
sleepless
nights
take their toll
and i start wondering if you're drinking
and feeling stars sink from the sky
to merge with the waves of your stomach
undulations with sparkles of poison
and i wonder
if you're warmer, like copper
or if your arm is snaked
all ribbons
around another girl's waist
or if your teeth
white moonlight
glitter the way they do
when you're sober
and smiling at me
from sleep
or if you even
think
of me,
just for
a
moment

it's hard
to pull away
when every night,
you fold me,
copied paper,
in your arms
until the morning
separates us
again

i will always
pause
in the moments
you say,

on an envelopewhy do my d's and l's look like yours when i write your name?
it's just been a little carousel,
spinning in pirouettes,
turrets,
neverending,
in my mind all day.

all i know is i'm glad i don't love you.
i don't know why you aren't relationship material-
in all honesty, you are.

i don't know why you treat me like your girlfriend-
kissing my forehead,
holding me gently,
touching me sweetly,
asking to see me,
sixty miles out of the way
in a city i can fall in love,
with no promise of sex-

all i know is i'm glad i don't love you,
& i hope it stays.

learning to forget how to readi hate it a little
with my bottom lip
pulled between your teeth
it's like moonlight,
the only light by which
i really see you

i don't know how to think
(about you, anything, this)
and everything you do
is balanced on a scale,
waiting for so much as a breath
to knock it from its centre

(if you don't ask me
to come over, if you
greet me with a television
or hands in my jeans, if
you wait for me before i
leave you in the morning, if
you kiss me upon awakening
or sleeping or as i drift
between the boundaries of
here and with you,)

i am just caught in the tides
the ebb and the flow
as i fail continually
to understand
that

to know you, all wrongi don't know
what it means
when i say
i must be feeling
the wrong static,
or that i am thinking
of your hands,
shapes of clay
used to
shape the clay
of my white skin,
all wrong.
i just know
i need to believe you
when you said
what we are doing
is wrong
(copy of a copy of a copy)
and we can only do
something wrong
for so long
before the tongues
of fire
wrap tight
round our wrists,
separate,
with consequence.

perpetuation of a speciesi feel like sex
warm and sticky
and close and sometimes
a little dark with shame
or secrecy
but that doesn't make me
unwholesome
or immoral
that just makes me normal
and not just human
it makes me universal
a constant
a perpetuation
and no one can look at me
with true displeasure
because the one who did
would be the one who
was never here.

centre for psychological healthit is three days
until march falls again,
false promises of spring
kissing the air
until it begins again
for winter;

three hours
until i feel my heartbeat
find its way
into the oceans
my blood spills,
poetry,
across porcelain
and skin
mirroring it;

three minutes
until i shift,
unbearable,
in a crimson chair
that begs for me releasing;

three seconds
until i swallow,
a bird,
sticking bones,
and pray for a
tooth of glass,
a jaw of metal, of
sharp,
kiss me,
an instant,
the way
you
once did.

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[x]

denial can only stretch so far

by *ohsostarryeyed, Nov 26, 2012, 6:58:04 PM
Literature / Poetry / Romantic / General / Haiku & Eastern

when asked if i am
in love, i shall say, no. well,
maybe a little.

denial can only stretch so farby *ohsostarryeyed

Literature / Poetry / Romantic / General / Haiku & Eastern

©2012-2013 *ohsostarryeyed

and the distance between us that comes ever closer will just make it break, i'm sure

MOOSHY MOOSHY MOOSHY EW

!justawhore May 10, 2013 New member

you are in love with... the nigger with the 10 inch dick?....... dike you fell in love with and now you are one with the gay community(peace sistas) gay boy you fell for that dumped you in the beautiful winter scenery

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~peridot-magelette Dec 26, 2012

I only wish I could stay in denial.

Reply

*ohsostarryeyed Jan 28, 2013

Reply

~peridot-magelette Feb 12, 2013

Reply

~indecisiveiam8888 Nov 27, 2012 Student Traditional Artist

Guilty ^^

Reply

~pengirl100and2 Nov 27, 2012 Writer

mooshy mooshy ew is not a bad thing. (:

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~TinzTheCan Nov 27, 2012 Student Writer

This is exactly how I feel right now.

Reply

*ohsostarryeyed Jan 24, 2013

i'm sorry :/

Reply

~TinzTheCan Jan 25, 2013 Student Writer

*shrug* shit happens I guess :L

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