he likes blue on monday
and he’ll like red come tuesday
and he’ll like green by sunday.
i cross my fingers hoping
i’m a rainbow, constantly,
a kaleidoscope of colors
each and every week.
he liked that song until he didn’t.
and i remember sitting with our hands intertwined
while he skipped through his playlist
and i feared that he loved me like music.
because friends are friends
until they’re just people you barely know
and food is good until you’re full
and you’ve got too much to swallow
and the snow is nice to look at
until you’re shivering from the cold;
everything is okay until it isn’t
and you can love me until you don’t.
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“everything is okay until it isn’t”
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“of all the things you’ve left behind”
of all the things you’ve left behind i wonder how many slipped away as effortlessly as clothes slip off the body of a lover you love quite comfortably,
i wonder how many spilled from loose pockets, like pennies dropping down gutters with no regard for their loss at all,
i wonder how many still chase you down like dogs running after bones and you’ve got over two hundred that they can’t catch,
i wonder if there’s any that you miss, like an arrow piercing grass below the target you should’ve hit,
i wonder if there’s any that you wish you’d brought along. are there any spots that you revisit hoping to find these things you’ve lost?
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“all girls are the same”
i hope when you find yourself thinking all girls are the same, you remind yourself there’s something unique to be found in every heartbreak—
some girls smile when you smile and some girls cry when you cry,
some girls comb locks like sunshine and some girls twirl hair like coils
and some girls have lips like coral
and some girls have mouths like wine,
some girls look like dreams in your sheets and some girls cause nightmares while you sleep,
some girls love you when it’s easy and some girls love you through the grief,
some girls taste like candy on your tongue and some girls hurt like weapons drawing blood,
some girls stay when you thought no one ever would and some girls split before you even ask them if they could,
some girls leave and a weight is finally lifted and some girls go and take pieces of you with them.
-
“to tubby”
i grew and grew with you, from seedlings to sprouts and into dandelions. you were a love as warm as a yellow petal and most certainly as pure as any love could be and any love i’ve known.
but in ways you were the hardest to survive, because you were not the type of yellow that could or would return after a lonely nightfall. you were a “falling star” type of yellow – your presence in the world felt like seconds.
i wonder often, if you liked the flower planted in your memory. i wonder if you heard me when i babbled to it, enjoying the idea that perhaps it was you and you were just kind enough to prolong the goodbye.
and then i felt somewhat silly in my sorrow, for feeling hurt once more when you wilted all over again.
“it’s just a dying houseplant.”
and it died.
but i kept it anyway.death, depression, grief, heartbreak, loss, love, love poem, love poetry, melancholygalaxies, poem, poems, poetry, quote, sad, sad poetry, writing
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“i am not okay with this”
you ask me if i’m okay and i just want to tell you i’m not; i wish there was a way to do this softly, like feathers falling, so as not to rupture your heart. don’t ask me if i’m okay, we both know that i’m not; i wish i could bury this in my body like people bury bones in dirt, because all things end and a lot of them hurt.
-
“i sent a lot of texts that i wish i hadn’t sent”
i sent a lot of texts
that i wish i hadn’t sent,
i returned a lot of calls
i wish never called again,
i spoke a lot of words
but they all came out abstruse,
I was fed a lot of lies
when i was hungry for the truth,
i gave people love
and they never had to ask,
i beg myself for some
but i never get it back.
-
“i like the way you say things”
i like the way you say you love me because
“i love you” sounds like
“of course i love you, why wouldn’t i,
and how could you not?“
i like the way you say hello because
“hey there” sounds like
“the sooner i get to see you,
the less i hurt from missing you.”
i like the way you tell me i’m beautiful because
“you’re beautiful” sounds like
“what you think about yourself is wrong,
but don’t worry because i know your truth.“
i like the way you say goodbye because
“i’ll see you soon” sounds like
“you won’t ever wait too long.“
i like the way you reassure me because
“we’ll get through this” sounds like
“i love you when it’s good
and i love you when it’s bad,
i love you in between, i’ll love you always.“
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“house made of straw”
sometimes i feel more like a house than a person with the way i decorate my body and my face to hide damaged walls and empty spaces; my heart is more like a door with changed locks because i’ve made multiple keys for people who walked all over me with filthy shoes, people who said they could live here, but they were just passing through. i hope my eyes are not windows, because i fear what the world might see—all of my flaws and insecurities on display like a coffee table or some shoddy love seat. sometimes i swear i left the oven on and forgot because my mind feels like a smoke detector with the way my apprehension never calms. i smell smoke, but i can’t see it; i’m told things are never as bad as i make them, but every wildfire starts with a spark and it’s easy to burn when you’re a house made of straw.
-
“people can be planets too”
you dislike the tiny lines
in the corner of your eyes when you grin,
but i can’t help but think of mercury
and how if you saw her wrinkled surface,
it would surely leave you breathless.
i can spot venus rotating with envy
as she learns there’s yet another,
more radiant being.
you surpass the morning star,
you’re even brighter than the moon
and i think to myself, people can be planets too.
i feel like earth, fascinated with your wonder;
you’re far beyond what is familiar
and i’d erect a thousand starships just to know you.
you gave me your heart, piece by piece,
like chunks of mystical mars plunging to my planet.
i gathered each one up as i fantasize
about sunsets colored blue.
but there’s been this constant storm in my chest—
a red spot that should be a heart—
but it’s just chaos that never seems to pass.
so tell me, is jupiter still worthy
despite how her havoc never ends?
i only hope you love me enough
to linger as i orbit.
but you have options like saturn has moons
and i’m some kind of blizzard,
a girl made of ice like uranus
or neptune melting at your touch;
you hold me and i finally understand
what it must be like to try and breathe in space.
-
“boys don’t cry”
whoever says that boys don’t cry must have never fallen in love with one’s smile, because only then could you understand what it’s like to love sunshine and miss it every night. they must not have listened to one wonder why his father could never stay and how every girl he’s loved so far, has legs with elsewhere to go, just like his dad. i doubt they ever asked one how he sleeps at night and if he doesn’t sleep, i doubt they’d ever ask him why. they must not have compared one to a summer sunset or a sky full of stars to render him speechless because he had no idea boys could be beautiful too. they must not have been begged by one to return with his heart after they stole it and broke it and dumped all the pieces in places he’ll spend years searching for. certainly, they never loved one in such a way that his tears were met with trust bearing tissues and arms to embrace his sorrow.
