Indigo and Lavender Poetry

Original poems, short stories, and trains of thought

[lunenari]

[indigoandlavenderpoetry]

Wading

Im thinking of letting go, so I can finally know the bottom of it. I'm tired of wading, the coldness of oceans below my cramped feet. Wouldn't it be nice to relax my sinking body, my mind. This expanse in my chest is just keeping me afloat; hollowed to stay adrift in turning waters. When I close my eyes I feel your hands.

[indigoandlavenderpoetry]

I'm sick with love and affection neglected. I hear the faults of my heart crumbling, rumbling as if I've swallowed thunder. With each crack an old patch breaks and it all rushes out, rising in my throat until I taste grit between my grinding teeth. I built myself into a mausoleum for what I knew was already dead, but even pale death can be mistaken for moonlight.

[indigoandlavenderpoetry]

Ever Since

I like women who are abrasive, And act without thinking. I like women who scare me with their honesty And expect the same from me.

You accidentally kissed me In my church’s parish hall And I jumped back as if id been branded, Lips seared with our secret. Later on I thanked God no one had seen, But ever since my mouth hasn’t felt the same.

I like women who know how they look When they saunter by. I like women who keep lollipops and hot sauce in their bag And a jar of their dads chilis by their bed.

We loitered in the middle of CVS, Trying to find you a new flask. I was grazing the aisles when you turned to me and said you needed to get fucked. I choked on my own tongue, but you didn’t even blink, And ever since my brain hasn’t quite worked the same.

I like women who speak slowly, And practice kindness as their religion. I like women who crave the fullness of life And take the consequences as they come.

You asked me to Fall asleep on top of you Because it made you feel safe. A year and a half later I still remember you always smelled like spice, And every night I’d bathe in your heat. Later on I’d tell myself it wasn’t real, But ever since my heart hasn’t beat the same.

[indigoandlavenderpoetry]

What Am I?

my hand jerked back from her scorching mouth. her scream pierces through the kitchen, her skin is a split lip bleeding into a burlap of jasmine; her blood is a walk through the garden.

[indigoandlavenderpoetry]

It made me so happy

We drove along 17 While your car retold tales Of traffic jams and winding roads; I heard it through the hard plastic paneling of the passenger side door- Groaning about the bastard who cut him off and Sighing relief while recounting the stretch he only gets on Highway 9.

[indigoandlavenderpoetry]

7.1.15 Symptoms to tell the doctor I have this idea that I am really a figment of someone else’s imagination. They are lying in an induced coma in the real world, wherever that is, whatever that is, and doctors are sending pulses of electricity, rushes of different chemicals to influence their brain activity. My life is what scientists have created in their patient’s mind; how their brain has come to interpret these influences. If I go to the doctor and they tell me I’m wrong, that it’s only in my mind, how will I know they’re real? How do you know when you’re out of a dream? How do you know when you’re the dream? I’m scared. The doctors could wake them up at any moment, and I’d disintegrate. I’m not real.

[indigoandlavenderpoetry]

The Same Color

Sheets the same color as California poppies, Fluttering on the side of the freeway And against your freckled skin. Billowing up above us The sun beams sweet at day Before settling between valleys to begin Light's descent, Slipping away to create a new dawn, Unreachable. We control the morning and night, beginning and end. The sea's tides wax and wane to the count of our shared breaths. There is nothing beyond us

[indigoandlavenderpoetry]

Pi

I read that pi is infinite, and therefore every word and every combination of words ever said, or hoped to be said, are represented within it.

Every conversation throughout time has been laid out; Every adjective I ever thought to describe the curve of your fingernails or the crescent of your smile, In every order, Is spanned out in that never-ending number.

Every word that got trapped between my teeth, Was laid out before I ever felt The softness of your cheek, Before I felt the warming sun of a new day in my bed, Our energy recycling itself Even as we crossed paths, Honesty never to burst forth from my lips, Forever trapped in the lining of my Erratic heart.

[indigoandlavenderpoetry]

When I start to cry my nose tickles

I was watching a movie, but id broken my glasses, again, so the female lead looked just like you, sprawled out in bed with a gray tank top on, hair still drying into a fluffy tangle while she smoked a joint. her boyfriend got to hold her, squeeze her cheeks while she giggled, drop to his knees to make her understand. In the end he didn't get her either, not in any of the universes where they met and intertwined. And he confessed everything he's supposed to, professed limitless love on a fucking balcony, and he still didn't get her. I guess it's comforting, knowing that even if I had said everything I wanted to, we still wouldn't have ended the movie together, not in any universe, always entangled but never touching.

[indigoandlavenderpoetry]

My own love is growing fresh spring moss on my soul, slow going and tender, I am rebuilding myself.

[indigoandlavenderpoetry]

Spice

She smelled like spice, like heat- the kind that dampens your skin and flushes your cheeks, the kind from a campfire after craving it in the cold- all encompassing and awakening, impossible to not reach out for.

[indigoandlavenderpoetry]

The Tide is coming ll 5.21.2015

[indigoandlavenderpoetry]

I am a hopeless lover. Or maybe it's just the early dark hour that allows my soul to grow, reaching out into endless black.

[indigoandlavenderpoetry]

Relief

Billowing clouds of cleansing smoke flooding my veins, driven by a sigh.

[indigoandlavenderpoetry]

i sat here with her 3.28.15

One of the parts that makes letting someone go so difficult is the traces they leave, the invisible footprints pressed into dirt, mud, and sand that leave trails across your bedroom floor all the way to the bathroom. I sat here with her smoking. I could tell she was nervous, wondering what we were thinking of her.  I was wondering if she was cold, if I could touch her cheek so she’d look at me like that again. And I wouldn’t make the same mistake; I wouldn’t drop my hand, scared, and change the subject. I was wondering why she didn’t look happier now that her friend was in town. I was wondering if she thought I looked cool, if my mouth looked enticing enough as I exhaled smoke. I was wondering how she came to move like that. The way she moved her hands, the way she moved her feet, was filled with the same smirking coyness as trailing fingernails and the brush of silky hair on skin. It was in everything she did.

Now tiny flies swirl atop the lake in an unrecognizable pattern, as if something’s gone rotten.

[indigoandlavenderpoetry]

Sweltering heat calls, Singed palms and scorched tongues smolder, So hot I shiver.