Everyone I know’s getting a real job, getting engaged or having babies and I’m just sitting here running my blog and trying to remember to eat three meals a day.
I actually willingly talked to people I don’t know today… Do I get like a trophy or a prize or a cuddle or something?
Did I level up in life?
Lines in your misplaced palms, fit perfectly.
Where they’re meant to be, right in front of me.
So darling you used to, yeah you used to squeeze me.
Like you haven’t seen me in eternity.
Don’t make me listen to you get sick of me.
It’s in your voice when you say, leave me be.
Rock me to sleep baby, don’t watch me cry,
It’s too much to handle when you aren’t by.
Yeah, I’m missing you - oh the old you.
Move every loop in your curly cue head and make memories.
Know, when you loved me.
Yeah you loved me.
Somedays I wish I was better at being social but then I remember that requires me to go outside and talk to people and then I’m just like “lol nope.”
There were days I wanted out.
But then You would go and do things
like dive into the Vancouver ocean,
big brilliant cliché poem that You are,
water rolling off Your back
as You swam toward a sunset
that hung like a sacred recipe painted
all the way around Your holy head.
And then there were the ways You caught me
moving back into my cave where the wheels turn,
same wheels that drove You off.
I should have told You
before talking in terms of Forever
that any given day wears me out and works me sour,
that there are nights when the sky is so clear
I stand obnoxious underneath it
begging for the stars to shoot at me
just so I can feel at Home.
What’s left of You now is a shrine
built from the pieces I kept of Your presence,
Your incredible stretch of presence.
It sits in Our room like a sandpiper
cross-legged and crying,
remembering the night we met
and the day You left, and the Light
shifting in between.
By the side of it stands a picture of the poem where I promised,
“You will never have another lonely holiday.”
The words “I Promise” and “Forever”
begged me not to use them
but sometimes I don’t listen to God,
so You can imagine how much it hurt
to let Your last birthday pass
with no word. August 3rd.
You weren’t the only one comin’ up lonesome.
Listen, if I had to make a list
of everything everywhere
- and I mean everything… everywhere -
the very last to-do on that infinite list of
every – single – thing – would be – to hurt You,
so I need You to know
that in an attempt to keep my promise
I did write a letter to You on Your birthday.
It was covered in stickers of flock-printed stars,
choir claps, and a bonfire of buttercups stuck in the air,
but when I finally drew enough courage
to send You all the Love in the World
my hand snapped off in the mailbox
It was returned to me with a gospelstitch, a hope stamp
and a note etched into the palm I had to pry open
with the pressure of pitching doves
we agreed to let each other go.
There is a point when tears don’t work
to wash things away anymore.
Grabbing for breath has now broken my fingers.
I miss You so much some days
that I beg for the airplane to crash
with just enough time in the freefall
for scribbling “I Love You” across my chest.
That way – when they find my burning breast plate –
they will tell You how the very last thing I did with my life
was call out Your name.
A. R. L.
I know You’re momma didn’t raise no sissy,
so it’s best if I believe
that You’ve bounced back and been born again,
but in the bottom left corner of dreams
in the dark spot
where it gets windy and hollow
I can still see you flailing,
eating knuckle cake,
full torque and tender,
heart pounding from being pulled under,
feet bleeding from bracing for endings,
tongue dying to curse Forever
because promises murder us backwards
when people like me don’t keep them.
And sure, we all deserve absolution,
but especially You. You and Faith,
You’ve got the same hungerpunch,
still rising off the watertrain running through the laws
of a moon dead set on daylight
digging marbles from the trees
in a Love not scared to make no sense
and monkey enough to see
the same devastating reason for living this life
I promise You
these words have buckled my lips
so far back to the beginning
that I am now allowed only
so from my snap-chested heart spraying
sending out the birds:
Today I stop believing in words.
Today all my visions converted to blurs
like the night We saw the Light
and I could not shut up
but I swear I was feelin’ silence.
With people like me.
people like me
will love you so hard
that you turn into stone
into a statue where people
come to marvel at how long
it must have taken to carve
that faraway look into your eyes
Do not fall in love with people like me
we will take you to
museums and parks
and kiss you in every beautiful
place so that you can
never go back to them
without tasting us
like blood in your mouth
Do not come any closer.
people like me
when our time is up
we will splatter loss
all over your walls
in angry colors
that make you wish
your doorway never
learned our name
do not fall in love
with people like me.
with the lonely ones
we will forget our own names
if it means learning yours
we will make you think
hurricanes are gentle
that pain is a gift
you will get lost
in the desperation
in the longing for something
that is always reaching
but never able to hold
do not fall in love
with people like me.
we will destroy your
we will throw apologies at you
that shatter on the floor
and cut your feet
we will never learn
how to be soft
we will leave.
we always do."
If my self-depreciation was as adorable as tumblr says it is, I’d be like a puppy puking rainbows while riding a unicorn.