Categories
poetry

The Monologue

I love you.

Maybe you don’t believe this. Maybe this is something you will overlook or fly past or scoff at but I don’t care because I absolutely adore you. Your hair your eyes your smile your laugh is so contagious that even thinking of it makes me smile an yes you it is you who makes me grin! It is you who allows me to get up in the morning. You are the reason I pull back my covers you are the reason I sing! Poorly, but you still make me want to sing and dance and laugh because I love you. I love you so much that I want to thrust my arms out and enveloped the world. I want to take on the world and show everyone I’ve ever met your face so that they too may know true happiness. And yes, I can’t touch you. I can’t touch you because it makes my skin crawl. My own skin makes me crawl sometimes. I cannot rest my head against your shoulder, I cannot hug you tight and whisper all the reasons I love you into your ear, I cannot kiss your face. Hell, I can’t even hold your hand! But that is OK. That is OK because I will show you my love through this infinite, vast, endless sonnet of demote devotion. I will hold out my arms and bask in your warmth and let you know that you are the reason I am happy today. You are the reason I got up today. And today, you are the reason that I feel and I know that I am OK and not touching you is OK and my lack of want for societally shown physical intimacy is OK. And today, I love you.

***

Written in the wee small hours of the morning, high on lack of sleep and love for a dear friend. This is one of my favorite pieces, neither traditional poem nor short story, but a strange mix of both. I couldn’t think of a fitting title, so I just called it what it was: the monologue. One of my only platonic pieces, but one of my best I think.

Categories
poetry

Touchable

I once told everyone that I wanted to be untouchable

That I wanted to reach for the skies

And brush fingers with the stars

But now

Standing in a room where everyone is touching

Brushing shoulders

Fingers

Legs

And lips

I begin to wonder

Was it worth it?

Were the hours of effort

And tears

And toil worth this prestige?

Is it even prestige if I need a paper to prove it?

Is it honor if a number negates my process

Is it dignity if I don’t want it?

Because I know that if I try to brush fingers

I will flex my hands until the feeling of my skin against someone else’s goes away

I will lay wide awake at night and wonder

Why I can’t touch other people

Why I can’t get my body to take that next step

Why skin feels like rubbing a snake the wrong way

Not remembering closeness and intimacy

But I can remember everything I did to get myself here

I can remember shaving my head

And cutting my nails

And scarring my hands

And wearing a frown

And in this room full of people

I still wonder

If untouchable means unapproachable

Unreachable

Or unlovable

***

I have had several revelations in the past couple of months; one of which being the discovery of touch aversion. In a society where touch is everything in a relationship, this epiphany has brought me to a conflict as well. The poem itself is Part 2 to Untouchable, yet the focus shifts slightly. From ambition to connection. I don’t know what I will do with this discovery yet, but I do hope it’s for the better.

Categories
poetry

Tap Shoes

Tap shoes are a second skin

One that I know I always fit in

As soon as I get the laces tied

I feel a smile on my face

I’m fine

I stand up

Put my hands up

And start a number

Four, five, six, seven, eight

Do a slide

A riff then wait

Drawback times two

A triplet kick through

And then I feel myself levitate

I’m on the tips of my shoes

With nothing to lose

For a moment, the music slips away

And I can feel the night turn to day

Metal and wood breaking dismay

I hear the click and I flap into a rift

And once the song ends

With a double pullback

Ankles bend

I flip out for a wing

Jump then swing

Into a Maxi ford finish

That would make Astaire proud

I have the technique of Bojangles

And Ginger Roger’s sound

Now I take off my shoes

And ignore the pain in my toes

Life puts back her woes

Because for now, I walk down the street

A song in my feet

Still tapping out the moves in my heart

As my heart drums to the beat

***

I’ve danced for about a decade now, and I have always favored tap. I’ve done several workshops and classes in different studios and states, all with different teachers and different dance styles, but nothing quite beats metal shoes. This is a tribute to one of the only styles of dance where your steps add to the music, not just visually but audibly as well.

Categories
poetry

Apologies

I’m sorry I can’t look at you

Because you remind me of somebody I knew

Whose eyes weren’t blue as the ocean yet held the same depth

And with every breath in that moment I lost a little more life

I’m sorry I can’t meet your stare

Because it reminds me of a time where I started to care

A little too much about people who didn’t care back

And it kept me on a brutal track

And I’m sorry that I know you’re pretty

Because I don’t think it’s truly you I think about

And I know that’s shitty

So please don’t think too much about my gaze

Or the tears you might see

Because all you see is an accumulation of years

Where a snapshot was everything to me

***

I’ve been haunted by memories recently; well, for the last year I think. Unfortunately, through no fault of their own, someone has brought one of those up merely by existing. I despite it, but at the same time, there’s a strange, wistful part of me that remembers the good. I digress; apologies to the unwilling mirror of my memories.

Categories
poetry

Untouchable

Sometimes I want to be untouchable

I want the night sky to be my summer home

So I can befriend the stars

And be the best acquaintance they ever had

At the same time, I want to touch the heart of everyone I’ve ever met

I want to place my hand on their chest and heal wounds they never thought they had

I want to write the name of everyone I’ve ever met in a leather-bound book

So that for generations to come, people may still see the names of every person I ever loved

And wanted to love me back

However, if one hand touched the stars and the other touched the earth

My arms would grow too long to handle

Or worse, they would remain their length and never do either

Sometimes I feel like I don’t have the luxury of stagnancy

That my life is a circle with no corners for rest

I want my life to be a triangle

Or a square

Or an octagon

Just to have a moment to sit on the ledge and take a second to appreciate how far I’ve come

I want to stop to see my handprint on the sternum of every adult, child, and teen I have touched

I want to wave to the stars because I know I’ll see them next summer

Yet, for now, my arms won’t lengthen to do either

And my life continues to run

Never waiting for me when I want to rest

***

I wrote this recently after a brainstorming session with friends, and it’s one of my favorite poems to date. Times of strong emotion allow for strong writing, and I hope that this is not only strong writing but good writing.

Categories
poetry

Strange

The rain falls on an outside world

As hues of gray begin to swirl

I find that the soul likes to unfurl

On a windowpane of glass

And as technology hums its song

Telling me to move right along

I find myself feeling wrong

For sitting in this same spot

Maybe it’s a set back

Maybe I’m off track

Funny, because this is as mundane as I can be

This new normal feels normal to me

But I miss the rain

And the cold, icy snow

Just as I’ll miss the colors

And the flowers that start to grow

I wish I could stop time’s sway

And be stuck in just this one day

But right now, I’m in the middle of a fray

And the rain continues to linger

***

This poem plays a lot with different rhyming schemes and speed. I hope I did the transitions between AAAB and ABAB justice. Time and thoughts are always themes within my poetry, and this one is not unlike the others. I forget where I wrote this, but I can still feel it in my heart. And on rainy days.

Categories
poetry

Dreaming

I can feel the sand beneath my feet

And I know this must be a dream

For I haven’t felt this way in a long time

And time doesn’t feel so mean

I can hear the ocean and the sound

Of the crying seagulls

I can hear the bristle of the trees

And the absence of technology’s lulls

However, all good dreams must end

And I can feel life pulling me awake

But I’ll never forget the ocean and sky

And when time slowed for my sake

***

A small, tranquil poem written in a moment of passing time. I think about the ocean a lot, more than I think I should. Maybe one day I’ll find a home, big enough for one, and retire by the water’s edge. However, that might just be a dream.

Categories
poetry

Anger

Sometimes my anger scares me.

It sits like an unwanted joke

And reminds me everyday of what I can do

What I did

How I risked hurting myself over others

And still have the scars from that time

I love living life like a fire but sometimes I worry that the fire will consume me

That I am not enough to hold it at bay

That I am not enough

However, what I fear more than anything is my fire turning into ash

Or water

And being choked by that instead

***

I apologize for my impromptu hiatus; much has jumbled with my creativity. This poem was written awhile ago, yet I still recall the first line quite often. Emotions should never reign supreme, but sometimes they become too much to handle. That is when we turn to creative outlets, and I hope this poem did that for me. Turned my fire into a candle into a flicker.

Categories
poetry

The Present

I feel a little cold.

And a little angry.

I feel a little scared

And mostly alone.

I feel that chill seeping deep into my bones

I can feel it making a home around my heart

Just as it did

One month apart

Seems like forever to me

And now I’m limited on how to be free

And I don’t quite feel like I’ve got my future right

I feel like I’ve kind of lost my foresight

And it makes me a little scared.

And a little mad

I feel like raging, but then feel bad

Who am I to want to cry?

I’ve got a great life, so why?

Why am I angry and why am I sad?

Why do I mourn something I never had?

Maybe I’m making it up for the show

But it feels more like I’m trying to hide a blow

And feeling guilty for the bruise someone else left

But I couldn’t possibly let this make me bereft

Over everything I own

So I’ll enjoy what I have

And stop staring at the ceiling

Wondering how I got so sad

***

This is a very personal poem for me. I wrote it during an emotional time, a damaging time, and I believe I capture most of what I feel through the lines. Felt. I would like to change my style, and I believe I will soon. Writing sad poetry only constructs sad thoughts, surprisingly.

Categories
poetry

We Are Human

We are human.
We will break your hearts and mend them in the same smile
We will melt your souls with our laughter
And you will tremble at our beauty
We are the baristas that make you flustered with a wink
The subway commuters you share a single glance with
We are human.
We will fight you until our knuckles bleed
And we will scream obscenities in our wake
We will drink and make jokes that turn people red
And we will not apologize for being so
We are human.
We will immortalize our stories
Or eviscerate you in our fiction
We will create the cure or the cause to your destruction
We will mix our emotions with yours until we are one giant, melting mass of humanity
We will lead nations
And burn cities
We will take everything you thought you knew about society and turn it upside down
We are human.
No matter what your government says
No matter what hate speech tries to silence us
Whatever muzzle society decides to give us next
We will break through
Tooth and nail
Claw our way up from the depths of prejudice
And we will come for you
I will come for you
Because I. Am. Human.

***

This is a rather angry poem, but I was angry when I wrote it. I think it can be applicable to many things, although I did have something in mind when I wrote it. Think of yourself when you read this. Think of whatever stereotypes hinder you, or whatever people say. Release that anger, whether through verse or energy or song, release it. In the end, it does nothing to hold onto it.