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poetry

Am I Enough to You

My achievements run miles long

I’m reliable through and through

But when I see your face

And watch your pace

I think, “am I enough to you?”

I’ve had 4.0s for years

My work ethic is unique

But when you’re here

I disappear

And start to become so weak

Maybe it’s my smile

And the way my teeth always show

Maybe it’s my laugh

Or how I vocalize what I know

Perhaps you don’t like my attitude

I’m made of spikes instead of curves

Or how I hit when I’m upset

Or become a huge bundle of nerves

I’ve got friends that run for miles

I’m a wonderful pal for more than a few

But lying in bed

With nothing but my head

I think “am I enough to you?”

So maybe I’ve got flaws

We all have a few

Maybe I’m too mean or nice

Or can’t decide on a view

You probably hate the way I walk

Like a freight train about to crash

You probably hate how I say the truth

It always comes out too brash

I’m a little strange and stubborn

But I’m willing to take your side and see

Make my day

Just please say

“You are enough to me”

***

There have been plenty of people in my life I’ve tried to impress. My parents, friends, even close family members. Everyone puts on a show for others, I believe, and we do so because humans are social creatures and we need acceptance. Crave it, more than perhaps anything else. I wrote this poem a while ago, at a time where I was both uncertain with whose acceptance I desired and how to achieve it. That wonderful feeling of complete uncertainty, you know?

Categories
poetry

Phantom Love

You are my Christine

And I’m your phantom ghoul

We had to change the story

Because it didn’t follow the rule

First off, I can’t sing

But your voice makes me want to fly

I don’t think in my secret home

We’d have to say goodbye

There’s no Raoul to keep us a part

But the rest of the opera still shuns our love

There’s no angel to help us out

I’ll admit I’m not from above

While my skin wasn’t scarred from birth

I still have ugliness inside

But your love helps me through the pain

I try so hard to hide

We have several Darogas

Who check up on us from time to time

And we’re dancing to the organ

When we here that welcome chime

We can still rule Paris

From our underground lake

But we’d still have to hide our love

Until we could escape

But once we’re across the ocean

There’s nowhere I’d rather be

Than at your side on Coney Island

And hear you’ll stay with me

***

A poem loosely based off the genius of Gaston Leroux and all his proteges. For years, I’ve loved Phantom of the Opera, a timeless classical romance and the gateway of modern mystery novels. When I was younger, as most little girls did, I thought of myself as Christine. However, as I grow older and converse with the person my heart begins to grow fond for, I find myself in more of the phantom’s position. I desperately hope that our ending isn’t parallel to poor, unhappy Erik’s demise.

Categories
poetry

Doubt

Doubt is the thing that eats me inside out

Questioning the life I live

What I did

And who I am

This is a question that makes me understand less about myself

And more about society

The variety of people makes it harder to choose

There’s more to lose

When you are expected to pick one out of a million

A billion stars in the galaxy

And only one supports life

But I don’t know if my life is worth the energy it took to create me

I can’t see myself in the mirror because all I know is my present

Which is weighed down by my past

I feel my life moves too fast

And slow at the same time

I can’t tell people what is mine

Because I don’t know what I possess

I like to digress from the natural path

That only makes it harder to exist

Yet I persist and hope that what I have is right

In hindsight

I should’ve played mute

***

I am at a very uncertain time in my life, yet I feel as if this is the path I’ve chosen to walk from the beginning. I have a hard time talking to other people, to communicating with friends and family, and even reflecting upon my own past. I hope that there is a viable excuse for this state of mind, and I believe that it will disappear eventually. The style of this poem is a little different, yet I enjoy writing like this because it feels halfway between a couplet and a spoken word. One of the most important things to know, my friends, is yourself. Everything else is only a consequence.

Categories
poetry

Off

My portrait’s kinda crooked

I tried to tilt it back

But then it slid off the wall

And I lost my track

My records started to scratch

The song sounded lame

And my head was pounding

Because the song had no name

I sat in my room

And felt utterly alone

One moment I was melting

And the other cold to the bone

The walls breathe and whisper

When they think I don’t hear

But where they’re gone

It’s the silence I really fear

My head’s a little displaced

I don’t have room to complain

Because I have a papercut

Compared to other’s pain

My skin feels backwards

But I can’t turn it around

Not when my birds are watching

Otherwise their fuss will make a sound

I find I kinda miss you

And everyone I’ve hurt

But now you’re all in the clouds

And I’m crawling in the dirt

I feel stupid sick and foolish

But at least I look okay

Maybe this week got started all wrong

Tomorrow’s a new day

Tomorrow I’ll stop missing you

And go outside the home

Maybe then, it’ll stop being “if” not “when”

I start to feel alone

You’ll never read a word I write

I’ll never give you that chance

But when we’re old and shrewd

I’ll meet you back in France

***

A rather sarcastically whimsical poem about a once dear friend of mine. We had a wonderful time together over the course of about one or two years, then dissolved into a bitter acquaintance. I wrote this poem a while ago, long after we stopped speaking but near enough to the present that I can still feel my frustration from his words. Give me a nice little comment if you ever get your hands on this, won’t you, Zockales?

Categories
poetry

Civilization

Everything started out slow

We didn’t have places to go

We had to know everyone in the village

Before invaders started to pillage

Our treasures and delights

Speed up the world and its light

The sun sets faster when you’re running from time

Because it always runs better

As we crawl out of the slime

Civilization begins to start

Everyone walks around with metal in their heart

We start to create words meant to part conversations

Small talk

Takes a walk

Into a town that started small

But now grows tall

With walls to keep out invaders

Later, we begin to hate our fate

Envious of those in a population so ginormous

We try to take on new forms

This is what we call societal norms

And it shapes our new state

We debate topics

That skirt the edge of new propriety

We climbed high in society

But conversation burned

We learned about technology

That rocked our world

Information in seconds

With ones and zeros that unfurled into lives

DNA becomes simple and our race strives

For bigger

Better

Faster

Rules down to the letter

Who has time to read the full news?

We just choose who needs to lose

And win

Politics become a joke

Our government goes up in smoke

And we stay glued to our screens

Their bright sheen pierces our eyes

And when we look up through the lies

We fantasize the world we were just in

When ones and zeros become slim and slimmer

Our minds become dim and dimmer

As we take a trimmer to our thoughts

Now tell me how conversation’s gone

I’ll try to tell you that it’s wrong

But that’s an opinion, never a fact

The fact is, we’re just on a different tract

Yet if I hear another phrase repeat

If I see another bleed before yell defeat

Or another cheat while the honest pays

My hours stretch into days

With all these pleasantries

Questioning frees the mind

But not the kind we hide behind

How’s your children?

How’s your wife?

Did you get a new cat?

How’s your life?

What happened to you five minutes ago?

Tell me the news I already know

Tell me about your hobbies that pass the time

I’ll tell you about my possessions proud to be mine

If I hear another word that sits flat

I’ll ask, “who wants to know that?”

I want to know why you wake up in the morning

What rain tastes like on your tongue

What songs make you dance

Or cry when they’re sung

What a child’s smile does to your face

How did you get your grace?

What is your favorite place to escape to

If you have any vices, if so, how few?

Please

I can’t take another conversation that dulls my mind

I don’t want to feel behind

But ahead

Don’t make me dread listening to you

But I don’t know what to do

Tell me there’s another one too

Who feels like me

And wants to be free

From the mind-numbing placidity of normal life

I’ll take it in strife now

But expect me to snap soon

***

This a longer poem, because it encompasses the very beginning to the present of humanity and its interactions with each other. I enjoyed writing this piece, because it allowed me to reflect on the conversation I have with people closest to me. A recent frustration of mine involved observing how shallow most conversations seem. I start to abhor how people repeat themselves and each other, or how small talk can stretch for hours. There is a direct correlation with how fast our world moves and the depth of our social interactions, because I believe if we were to take all the schedules and electronics and deadlines away, we would be left with nothing but time to discuss and think.

Categories
poetry

Darling

I think I want to slow dance with you

Or hold your hand, as friends might do

And maybe wear your sweater too

Or you could try my jacket on

I didn’t realize that maybe it was you who made my heart feel light

Since you were always in sight

I find your words a delight

And it hurts to be away

I don’t know if you’d feel the same

I’ve been in the manipulation game

Too long to give name

To whatever feeling traps me

I know that society wants us to conform

Into neat little societal norms

But I think together we have the power to reform

Whatever rules might stand in our way

For now, I’ll just take your texts

Revel in the thought of what comes next

I would love to ask you to tea, then be direct

In the way I address you

So, I think I may want you at my side

I think I’m done trying to hide

But if you don’t agree, I’ll say I lied

And enjoy your presence all the same

***

After a few years of chasing people in a mad scramble of unrequited tragedy, and a few months of a thick, uncomfortable relationship, I believe I’ve finally found someone who lightens my heart and doesn’t weight it down with doubt and lingering fear. Maybe I’ve just fallen in love with the idea of worshiping another human being, but I believe this time, I’m willing to try. Try, my friends. It’s harder to find happiness with relationships when you spent months punishing not the other but yourself.

Categories
poetry

Hands

I don’t know what to do with my hands

I feel like my back is against the wall

I lost my logic, yet doubt grows tall

My fingers fumble for a grip

Every move just makes me slip

I wish I didn’t have to fish around

Waiting to hear a sound

Or a reply from you

All I have is what I write

A regrettable choice, and in hindsight

I wish I hadn’t said yes

Maybe I wouldn’t lie here

Wishing I could disappear

Back to the year

Before the tears

When anxiety filled my head

Laced with fist fueled dread

At least he was sweet and kind

At least he didn’t toy with my mind

Or make me cry

Our goodbye was short

The older I get, the more I know

Yet why doesn’t this help me grow

I’m still stumbling like a bumbling fool

My heart leading like a stubborn mule

I used to clasp his hand in mine

I don’t know what happened with the time

But now there isn’t any left

Now I just heft regret after regret

I bet this wouldn’t be so bland

If I still knew what to do with my hands

***

What started as a midnight thought quickly turned into a poem that went down a road I didn’t expect it to. A long time ago, what feels like ages, I had a relationship with a boy who treated me extremely well. Although the relationship made me uncomfortable (luckily, it was short), I still remember his gentility. We don’t keep in contact, but I see him once or twice and know he’s doing much better. Every relationship teaches a lesson, and that one taught me not to dismiss someone’s kindness. It also taught me to say no to people I have little interest in.

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poetry

Hubris

Who are you?

You seem so hollow to me

Can you tell me the last time

You felt truly free?

Can you say how you feel

Does it burn when you touch

A hot stove or fire

Or are emotions just too much

I think that you’re a little empty

And that’s okay to me

But sometimes you extinguish my fire

And I try to smile docilely

I think someone stole your heart

And forgot to give it back

Because you live without love

And certainty is the only thing you attack

I want to say I like to talk with you

But your ice freezes my mind

Sometimes after we speak

I feel a little behind

Because you’re an empty box

And I’m a fire untamed

Sooner or later, we’ll destroy each other

We are not the same

***

Sometimes I meet people who lack passion, which is such an essential part of my existence that I wonder how they operate. A small, arrogant part of me believes I can change them, make them believe in something so ardently as I believe in the world. However, most people I meet are content with how they live. With their dispassion. They aren’t unhappy and frustrated, while I stew over injustices in the world that still prevail and bemoan how difficult it is to change such things. I’ve learned, or perhaps I want to learn, that most people don’t care about everything, and that’s completely fine. Normal, even. However, I still believe passion is important and can be found in every one.

Categories
poetry

Sweater

A sweater replaced you

Because the sweater makes me feel better

It slips out of my grip

While you just keep holding on

I told you to hold only once

You’re like a leech

It sucks my life

I try to take it in strife

But I’m just done

However, a new problem has begun

I can’t stay away from you for long

Anxiety spikes, and it’s the same song

Over and over again

Other stuff starts to set in

And soon it’s just stagnant water

I don’t want to bother you with my problems

So I write nonsensical sentences

Hoping that you’ll know what I’m trying to say

My mirror’s broken

I feel too outspoken

The spokes on my wheels keep turn turn turning

And I’m learning how to say goodbye

And leaning into my sweater

It makes me feel better

Than your face ever did

***

I have an old, worn sweater that I wear constantly. I believe everyone has some sort of garment they wear constantly, either as a reminder or comfort. While there are things I wear daily, such as the ring on my finger or pencil behind my ear, they don’t carry as much value as the sweater does. This is another poem from the set I keep locked away, but it brings a little comfort in the same way my sweater goes. Hold on to the things that make you smile or warm, even when it seems nothing is there.

Categories
poetry

Lost Things

I lost my heart

Can you help me find it please?

It fell into my lap

And rolled down my knees

Bruising itself on the cold, hard ground

Still refusing to make a sound

I think your sneaker crushed it along the way

I almost lost my courage when I had to say,

“I don’t want this today”

This wasn’t the first thing to go

First my knowledge because I know

I shouldn’t be close to you

Yet it was still me you drew in

I never win

This game is akin

 To torture

My mind was scorched

“Her head was probably out of place”

Then I lost the smile on my face

As pills and medicines took up the space

On my bathroom shelf

Next to the girl who knew herself

Knew

I lost my dignity and my pride

I shrunk back and tried to hide

Lied and lied to those who cared

Told them I wasn’t broken but teared

Easily fixed with a piece of tape

Yet being broken wasn’t something I could escape

Especially when it was you creating the wall

I feel small

And can’t breathe at all

Maybe my breath was the last thing to stall

Or maybe it was my heart

Held in your hands

Until you crushed it

Into a million strands

Yet I still search for its gleaming light

Hoping that what I want is right

For me

Please see

I can’t be this anymore

I lost myself

Will you find her please?

She’s got her head on your knees

Begging for forgiveness to an invisible wrong

Just let her move along

***

The heart is a delicate and fickle thing. It has given me so much grief, yet I wouldn’t trade it for a billion others because of the passion it still holds for life. For a period of almost eight months, I found myself enamored with someone who didn’t have the capability of returning such sentiments. I recently moved on, yet I still keep a collection of poems that portray my feelings through that troubling time. Slowly, as time goes on and heals what never begun, I will send them out into the world, similar to how I threw my heart out into the open to see what would happen. Never mistake infatuation and an overactive imagination for love, my friends. It is the downfall of the romantic and the poison of the innocent.