projected profitsi keep picturing us in fifteen years, but it's more like ten. we're sleeping and the quiet sun gently pushes on our eyelids. we turn softly in the mounds of white cloth covering our bed, one or both of us making those slight moans of vague consciousness completely against our wills.

we live in a house, or maybe a flat. it might be in europe, in one of the countries you visited when we found our ways back to one another. the buildings are smooth and white, but the garden is not lacking for colour. the greens are denser than water, the sky more saturated blue than our swimsuits, hanging off the lip of the small balcony.

maybe it's switze

presumptionsi know i'm a very common-,
innocent-looking girl.
i look like i floss my teeth
at least once a week
and have never worn
thong underwear,
like i devour books like candy
and never talked during class.

it's funny when people are nothing like how they look.

so let me tell you something,
let me set you straight:
i'd have you believe
i'm not some heavily medicated girl
with snakes up and down her body
in bright red rows, all raw and scabbed and
constant, ceaseless, neverending reminders of fucked-up and failure...
but it never took much for you to talk me into bed.
letting you think i'm some perfect porcelain figurine
without crac

write what hurtsi'm here to tell you
about fire and living
& how both burn even if you ignore them

it's not about what feels good
it's about what doesn't
cornering what hurts
and exposing it
really displaying it
pedestal on high
for what it is
and not what it pretends to be

you are not living
until you hurt
you can't be alive
if all you know is comfort

comfort is only a sign
that you are doing what you know
it is admittance of limitation
because you are human
and only know so much
and it's agonising to think
that you can be comfortable with that
and not want to reach out
and touch every thing you find
and read every book you see
an

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

something i should've written a year agoare you happy?
you hear that, but you don't actually ask yourself if you're happy.
you assume you are,
you expect yourself to be, you should be,
it's not important enough to think about-
because what if you aren't?

it's last summer again.
you've locked yourself out of your car
and we're sitting with our knees crossed
on the pavement in front of kate's house.
somewhere, you can hear fireworks,
but you know they're illegal because the town is too broke
to put on a show this year.
you know no one minded.

look at me now-
what if you're miserable?

july cruises in like a convertible or some equally hot shit.
standing by the sea

go to sleep for the love of godi kind of feel like ripping my face off.

look-
it's not one of those sad, suicidal stories. i mean, if i believed in suicide in the way that means i could do it, then yeah, it would be. but i don't, and i guess you're kind of lucky for that because now you can go to sleep with a clear conscience.

i won't ever tell you about how many pages and books and scraps of paper and unsent text messages and notes on the backs of my hands i've written for you, or how inarticulate you were when you wanted to say how you felt. i won't ever tell you how i wished for a few words that could tell me that i was loved, even a little, and i sure as fuck won

before georgia takes you again

a lack of language, in coloursyou tell me you miss me
and that i am more beautiful
than any girl in georgia
or even barcelona.

everything is fitting like magic
between fingers when they
finally, finally
touch,

and i swear for the past three nights,
that's all i've dreamt.

give me acrylics
and i still can't make you see
the exact shade of warm
you are to me.

give me the ocean
and there are not enough waves
in its body
to show just the way i feel
when our own vessels move together.

seven months since we last said goodbye,
since we last said hello-
i could fill libraries
with reasons
to love you.

what i really want to ask
is if you think you can

an open letter to a rekindled relationshipwe have travelled thousands of miles;
we have felt spite and fear for diminished feelings;
we have played this game for far too long.

last night we missed hearing others' poetry
to make our own.
i was not afraid of skin,
and you were not afraid to feel.
we were born with instinct for a reason:
follow it.

realising what you want is half the battle.
my other half is hesitation-
my other half is you.

i still swell with emotions my therapist
can't help me label
when i remember how you said
you weren't over me.
and how we joined again,
with an interim year,
and a new understanding of emotion
adding to and balancing the physical.

this is less of a love poem and more of athere is something to be said
about resisting the temptation
to start out with a bang.

the hallway of your neck
has never lost its scent
and it's something, i swear,
i swear, i can never forget

because it's something surreal
to wake up while you're asleep
and feel you pull me closer
til our faces almost meet-

but please,
hold onto that almost,
hold onto it like stardust.

you need to touch me in a whisper
because it's been too long
since i've felt the hand of someone
who actually meant it,
someone who actually meant something

and i'm so glad, my god,
i'm on my knees
i am praying to(o,) my god
that we won't burn out so qu

first weekend and realisationsyou begin to talk
because talking means that
someone else can't
&you start to realise
(as most girls do)
that you have a boyfriend

&soon
he's not just a boyfriend;
he's your boyfriend
&he's not just better than
anyone else in the world
he's better than
anything else in the world

&you would trade years off your life
to spend a little longer with him
or to see him smile when he's sad
or to feel his face in your hair
the way he does when he hugs you
&you can't feel it
because right now he's too far away

but distance is only the space between
point a and point b
between you&between me
&if you give it just a little more tim

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

blue morningsholding out
impossibly bated breath
blue like the morning
as it touches the canvas
of your sheets,
billows of cloud
tucked over
skin-
this is not what
i asked for.

i never said
i needed more
than a hand to hold,
any promise
for you to touch my heart;
instead,
you lent me your body
and a person
who cared
much more than is sure
as the stars.

i wish
(as though the certainty
of those celestial jewels
were concrete)
that you were less afraid.
your fear,
burning like a forest fire,
sinks its teeth
into your copper skin,
reflective and deep;
you touch me too tenderly
for me to believe
that i am just an embellished ve

breathing takes a second too longi'm just going to write this all out because if i stop to so much as breathe or count the seconds in my head until i feel like maybe you're a little closer to me then i might just fall apart. i don't have much control over my punctuation or spelling or grammar but i also don't have much control over myself and especially not over you and me together, and it's terrifying but it's all i want.

i want to be able to see you and i want to press myself against you as tightly as i can because there have been way too many miles between us for way too long and all i want is you and when i stand up i want you to still be against me and when i lie down

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

Browse More Like This

More from *ohsostarryeyed

skeleton.she is screaming again.

for the past three nights, my walls have been shaking like bones in the wind. she has been shrieking like the teakettle on the stove, she has been clutching my shoulders and bringing her gaunt face to mine and rattling my skeleton as it hides under the fat.

"you will exercise until it hurts," she tells me. i watch my arms, thick as writhing snakes, twist in the mirror.

i am so tired, i say.

"you have not done enough." her eyes boil ash in the darkest chimneys, and her breath smells of war and fire.

my shoulders burn. i begin to plead. i just want to sleep, i'm so tired, please let me sleep.

"you sicken me."

View Gallery

Featured in Groups

Not currently featured in any groups.

revelations in the mud

by *ohsostarryeyed, Jul 13, 2012, 3:21:05 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Urban & Spoken Word

i only want to fall in love
if someone is there
to fall with me.

i want to jump from high places
and pretend i'm flying,
i'm a bird, i'm light enough at-fucking-last
for the air to catch me,
and the harsh grounds beneath me?
can't touch this.

but i'm earthbound
and parachutes will not work
if you do not open them,
and i am just so sick
of feeling like maybe,
becoming an abstract painting
on the rocks below, would be enough...

but there is something beating in my chest.
i'm very afraid of what it is.

and i don't know a lot,
like the size of the universe.
or why you sought solace in the south.
or how i came to be in this crater that swallowed me whole;

but i do know the second you told me
you felt the same for me like i did for you,
something in my universe shifted.
part of my soul went to georgia...
and i began to climb.

look.
the purpose of life is to knock you on your ass
so you have to do something with it to get back up.
i don't know about you,
but i'm pretty fuckin' tired of feeling the dirt on my back
and seeing the same stars rise every night.
i don't know about you,
but i'm pretty fuckin' ready to join them.
and i know now, i don't have wings,
they're something you make for yourself or for someone
who gives you the lightness to feel closer to the sky.
i know i can't fly right now, but maybe if i keep trying,
maybe i'll get there.

so for now,
i climb.

1,598

93 30 8

revelations in the mudby *ohsostarryeyed

Favourite

Description Details Share

Download HTML download, 1.7 KB

another i'd consider performing?

I'M PERFORMING THIS IN FRONT OF MY BOYFRIEND NEXT WEEK. PLEASE TELL ME IF I'M DOING ALRIGHT, OR HOW TO IMPROVE: [link]

Details

Stats

Submitted on: July 13, 2012
File Size: 1.7 KB

Views: 1,598
Favourites: 93 (who?)
Comments: 30
Downloads: 8

love 1 1

~~joy 0 0~~

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~JustIrrelevant Oct 3, 2012

I really really really really like this poem.
I'm not good at describing why, I always need better words than the ones that come to my mind, so if I were to describe this poem (or other poems of yours for that matter), I would have to invent them. So, I'll just settle with this:
I really really really really like this poem.

*ohsostarryeyed Oct 7, 2012

thank you kindly <3

~tiajones Aug 26, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

i just really like this one.

i've read it several times.
and i couldn't think of anything worth your time to say.

*ohsostarryeyed Oct 7, 2012

anything you have to say is worth my time, lovely

~tiajones Oct 7, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

well, i really like this one.
and i'm so very glad that you write.
it's beautiful.

*bringyourownbomb Aug 7, 2012 Student Writer

this really is such a beautiful poem to read out loud, and just beautiful in general. <3

*ohsostarryeyed Aug 23, 2012

thank you so much, love <3

~Lunausa Jul 30, 2012

absolutely love this and some of the phrases are amazing but i felt you might have sworn a bit too much, don't know about anyone else but i just think that the swearing took away a bit of the beauty of this poem but apart from that WOW you keep getting better and better!

*ohsostarryeyed Aug 23, 2012

ah, i do that sometimes haha but thank you!!

~QuenWrites Jul 28, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Beautiful

More from *ohsostarryeyed

Featured in Groups

revelations in the mud

1,598

revelations in the mudby *ohsostarryeyed

Details

Stats

The Journal Portal

Polls

What is your preferred drawing software?

deviantART [dee·vee·un'nt·ART]

Keep in Touch!

Deviousness

Add Media

Style

URL	Thumb
Share Share on Facebook Share on Tumblr Share on Twitter Share on Pinterest Share on Reddit Share on Google+ Share on StumbleUpon Share on LiveJournal

More from *ohsostarryeyed

Featured in Groups

revelations in the mud

1,598

revelations in the mudby *ohsostarryeyed

Details

Stats

URL

Thumb

Share

The Journal Portal

Polls

What is your preferred drawing software?

deviantART [dee·vee·un'nt·ART]

Keep in Touch!

Deviousness

Add Media

Style