Jen Persici @jenpersici - Tumblr Blog

i wanted to create something that said, "there you are, i've been looking for you."

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rearrange my mind so there'd be room for you to stay and underneath the furniture you find little bits of paper and paint stains, i never truly finish cleaning up after myself and sometimes never finish projects at all. untidy leavings. or half leavings or the "i'll come back to you" but by the time i come back i am different and hoping you won't notice how my hands now shake and my limbs want to curl up in a ball. "i like your half finished thoughts all strewn about" you say, and i nod and pray you still like them when they aren't neatly tucked away, but stacked high up on every surface and overflowing out the windows— "what if i go completely mad? what then?" i say, and your laugh fills your belly and you tuck a flower in my matted hair with care and say, "i will stay."

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There was this little moment when i was watching the pink water circle the drain where i looked up and apologized and you smiled so easily and said— "dont worry, your blood doesn't bother me"

There was this little moment where i felt pain in our connection for the briefest moment and i thought you said "it should have been you" like we should have been braver but i must have been mistaken— you didn't say that did you?

There was this little moment where i felt you staring at the place where my hips and thighs meet where you sighed like you wanted me, and again when i was sitting at the edge of your bed swinging my little feet— sighing like you can't believe I'm within reach

There was this little moment when we were kissing in your car with the foggy windows and just feeling your bodys warmth and you said into my mouth "meant to be" and i said nothing because i thought i was dreaming

There was this little moment when you asked me "are you my girl" and i said "yes" so calmly, like our hearts weren't clawing out of our chests to get to each other

There was this little moment when you were laying your head on my chest and i was running my fingers through your hair and up and down your spine, and your easy laughter was warming all the parts of me that grew up cold and i thought "oh, this is why people show themselves. This moment is enough"

There was this moment. Where you told me "i love you" and i breathed "i love you too" . There was this moment where i felt brave and said "say it again" and you took a breath and said "if i could go back, I'd marry you and we would have children together"

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there's a mess and fuss to me. i am trailing padfoot, forest, bramble spine— something that leaves your hands cut and cold in time. try as i might to be anything else, i am cedar ash and the translucent veins of a leaf left out in the rain— untouched for so long that she's lovely again. you tell me you'd paint me in misty lilac but that's too much color for me. i am the grey that doesn't wash away come spring, just this eerie unlifting needful thing— a haze you can't breathe away, all fawn tousled and flushed looking at light. you say i am fresh grape, i say yes the bitter skin. you play with the pulp and paint me in color again. my eyes adjust to your extra brightness. you speak my mother tongue but i've grown fluent in submission, fawning so long i am just deer carcass

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there's a mess and fuss to me. i am trailing padfoot, forest, bramble spine— something that leaves your hands cut and cold in time. try as i might to be anything else, i am cedar ash and the translucent veins of a leaf left out in the rain— untouched for so long that she's lovely again. you tell me you'd paint me in misty lilac but that's too much color for me. i am the grey that doesn't wash away come spring, just this eerie unlifting needful thing— a haze you can't breathe away, all fawn tousled and flushed looking at light. you say i am fresh grape, i say yes the bitter skin. you play with the pulp and paint me in color again. my eyes adjust to your extra brightness. you speak my mother tongue but i've grown fluent in submission, fawning so long i am just deer carcass

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A poem from my book, Flock of Starlings 🖤

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I found a tiny emerald insect that looks like a leaflet. It survives on blackberry brambles and little dew drops warmed by the sunset. Maybe this can be me in my next life, if I repent enough. Maybe I don't need love, thorn is enough. Made a cup of tea, because I need the company. The type of lonely that seeps into dreams. Unescapable. unfavorable. I laugh like I'm laid back— but I can lean forward real quick— quick to say "what did you say— say that again for me— what did you mean by it" like did you know I am my father's karma and after he lay with his bones on the bed— the room reaking of sick— I placed on his cold hands an emerald insect that looked like a leaflet. He smiled and said, "You win this round, my love. Maybe in the next life thorn is enough."

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