Monthly Archives: April 2013

Almost made it

There comes a time in every poet’s life

when they realize what kind of poet they really are,

and I…

am a heartbreak poet.

I don’t know how this happened,

But my emotions can be seen from space.

I have the ability to articulate an emphasis on the description of my feelings

like I was taking a highlighter to smiles and tears.

Half the time when I’m on stage

it’s only because my feelings got hurt

and I wanted everyone to know,

not only that,

but I want to take you all down with me,

I’m that drowning asshole grabbing peoples ankles on the way down.

So this is a letter to one of my ex-girlfriends.

 

We became what I never thought we would become,

but for a while

it was like we couldn’t get our hands on enough paint

to cover the canvas at our feet.

When we met,

you were more like a road map torn in half

and I was a GPS speaking a broken language.

Everywhere we went,

we left behind the people giving us guidance.

It was as if the creases in our directions

wanted our imperfections to match each other,

to meet each other half-way

so we started touching each other a little differently,

we began reading it in each others skin

like homemade tattoos,

or bedroom back scratches of nameless acts.

I liked you so much

that I wanted to delete my browsing history

before I invited you over.

But I respected you so much that I didn’t,

and I just left it like an open window,

you made me fearless when it came what turned me on.

I don’t know if this is a misogynist poem, or not,

but I still want to call you mine.

I can deal with being alone,

just not both of us being alone at the same time.

Because you were the answer I was looking for

and I was a reason for you to stay behind,

just to keep your mind busy,

this perfect distraction,

just tall enough to keep you from seeing

what was waiting for you,

until we became more comfortable

with telling each other about our days than actually sharing them.

 

You were the hand written letters

lost in a stack of memories.

I was the envelope

that cut the corners of your mouth open

when all I wanted to do was kiss you.

Now,

I have written the first half

of too many emails to remember.

You became the price tag of my future

I wound up being more like the receipt of your past.

We left each other buried

in my wallet and your purse,

beneath other people’s pictures,

beside transit passes and

behind all the things we used more often than each other.

I think at some point trying to keep things playful,

we only started playing games with each other,

like hide and seek

became the way we moved through the room.

Speaking only through notes on walls

and tagged pictures online.

In our minds

we created an impossible future for us,

one so disgustingly romantic

it kicked the shit out of the Notebook

in a Pulp Fiction kind of way.

 

I don’t know

if you believe me when I say I’m sorry,

but I mean it.

Like when I was mean to you

for no other reason than to get your attention.

I meant it.

But I just wanted to be your dirt,

that rough filth scratching you clean,

caught beneath you fingernails

after such long days

of building these sandcastle housing projects together.

I’m not even with you anymore,

but I still toy with the idea

of letting you go

and I still keep the pictures you gave me,

but I haven’t looked at them in a long time,

they’re somewhere in the distance,

kept at bay,

stacked in a folder,

tucked into a bag and

locked in an empty room.

 

 

           

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Life

Life, like urinal cakes in a bar bathroom,

You can only take being pissed on for so long

Before you begin to disappear.

Left to slip down some drain made to look like a water slide.

 

I don’t remember much from when I was a kid

But I do remember

How I used to brag about

All the things I was going to do with my life

And what I pictured for my future

Had too many bells and whistles,

Too many accomplishments

For any one life to contain,

But now, at best I can be the bottle in my hand,

Something capable of any shape

But so breakable

It cuts like self-defense

And I keep climbing in and out of these ruts like nets.

Every time we meet

We still greet each other like strangers

Because

I feel like I’m always changing something about myself,

Like only my name has survived the days we’ve spent apart,

Left only as a reminder,

Written on a name-tag,

Like the street signs above intersections

Where I crossed my heart

And hoped you’d find me.

 

All I have now are my reactions.

I’m an unknown speech impediment

Heard only when listened to closely.

I keep claiming I know the words

But still left asking how to spell them

Because maybe I just don’t know anymore,

The thought escapes me

Like I’m a cat spending my life

Trying to catch the red dot.

 

Someone once asked me for a truth, so here it is:

We might still be people,

But we’re not human anymore.

We’ve forgotten about our grandfathers

And waited to long to know our grandmothers.

When they left

They left us only photograph footprints

From a black and white world.

I still keep thinking

I’ll get a do-over at some point,

Like if I wait long enough

I’ll get one more chance to back paddle,

One more chance to repeat myself

And all this time I’ve wasted

Might be put to better use.

Like tongues o what they’ve tasted

And a love for what might have lasted.

I want to repeat myself,

But draw a different outcome,

Like sidewalk chalk could erase bare walls

The way leaf’s fall over dead grass.

 

I don’t remember what I did today

I don’t know what I’ll do tomorrow

And I’m fine with that because

All that’s left of this moment is a shard of light

Clinging to the sky

This entire evening is dropping opportunities like bombs

And I cant fit anymore regret into this bucket list

So for now I’ll keep spinning these circles

Like the hollow tornados leaving deconstructed houses

And I’ll make my mark

In some other way.