“Tormented love is usually the type I understand and write about.”
— Chelsea Wolfe, from an interview conducted by JL Schnabel c. March 2013

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@mickeysgray
“Tormented love is usually the type I understand and write about.”
— Chelsea Wolfe, from an interview conducted by JL Schnabel c. March 2013
i still write
but rarely with a pen on paper
i started writing my poetry on his back
etching it in with my fingertips
maybe it’ll somehow sink into him
maybe he’ll finally know
i started writing it with my tongue
mine on yours
a language of our own
intertwined and in sync
each rhyming perfectly
i think it’s the best work i’ve ever done.
-mickey gray
distance inspires me
how long it would take for my lips to touch yours
the hesitation of it all
maybe i shouldn’t
how much is too much?
being in tune with the hum of your voice
each word means something new
the way i desperately cling
to the promises on your tongue
i will chase forever
to watch the sun fall with you.
-mickey gray
“You, that at this moment are to me / Dearer than words on paper,”
— Edna St. Vincent Millay, from The Collected Poems; “Sonnets,”
“What help will my blood be, when it ripens like wine?”
— Rainer Maria Rilke, from The Book of Images; “The Song of the Statue,”
i recall
the time the night sky threw a tantrum
and kept us up for hours
the birth of a new beginning
and in the candlelight i swear
i saw you smile as i cried
maybe you liked it
because i draw nearer
this divine love
your selfish longing for touch
tangled in warmth
accompanied by your selfless love
my body aching
with the promise of a new morning.
- storms are for lovers, mickey gray
the words unspoken lay rotting inside of me
begging for a space to lay to rest
i guess this is it
an ode to those who mistook me as something dispensable:
i am not a drizzle
i am a storm
i was never meant to be a place to lay your head for the night
i am not the settling dust
i am the gust of wind
you were never worthy of my gentleness
i am not the late night
i am the pain in the morning
for all that i am
you never deserved a second
not even a first glance
you could never contain a whirlwind of a woman
i must be loved entirely
or not at all
i was not built for depthless romance
or kisses that promise a better tomorrow
so keep it
my truth is showing through the cracks you left.
- a poem for every man who ever made me question who i am, mickey gray
You will not recognize me. This time, I put my pieces back differently.
Malia Makana, Like Differently Love (via blahhblahhhblahhh)
i wonder why i write less when i’m happy
maybe because i used to see poetry as a way to shout my unpleasantries into words
violently and desperately
but right now i could write so much poetry
so many happy words
string them into sentences
and lay them out for you -
like the quiet goosebumps that crawl up my arm when you brush against me
even by accident
or the way i can just think of your laugh,
like i am right now,
and smile
and maybe even blush
because i’ve seen it enough
that i have it recorded in my mind
so i can play it back whenever i need it
like my own selfish collection of you
i think words escape me sometimes
because they’re swirling above my head
in incoherent sentences
along with pink and red cartoon hearts
filling my eyes
and bursting with sparks
the kind of love i had only written about
in the 2am haze of a lonely night
chewing on my pen and drinking cold coffee
not knowing
that i had no idea
there was no way of knowing
until i knew you
you are better than any love story my fingers could tell
you are better than any vision of love i once had.
-mickey gray
do u ever think about how much time was wasted on someone who truly didn’t deserve a second thought
i wasted so many good fucking poems and so many nights crying when i could’ve been creating memories or giving my love to someone who deserves it and wow
i’m in such a completely different and better place than i was even just a few months ago
i know what i deserve and i wish i could go back and tell myself what i know now
i wish i could’ve been clearer-minded about who this person really was
and i’ve accepted that i will never receive an apology
but i don’t even think i need it anymore
everything happens for a reason i guess
because it’s january and i have never felt a love this pure and this warm
I was writing bravely, and badly, but I hope to never forget that hunger.
Mitchell Glazier, from Sirens Q&A, published in Honeysuckle Press’ 2017 Chapbook Semi-Finalist Feature (via lifeinpoetry)
i am immersed in you
i fell in love with the way you shake when you hold my hand,
well,
now i know you shake all the time
i felt my heart grow weaker while you were talking in your sleep
i fell asleep smiling that night
i swear to god i fell for you before my lips ever touched yours
isn't that a strange thing?
but i'm not complaining
i will never know how the universe came up with someone as bright
and as beautiful as you.
-mickey gray
i would kill to be each cigarette that touches your lips
i'm envious of the nicotine pulsing through you
i could never get close enough
intoxicated by sickly sweet poison
you are both the rushing high
and the crashing in the morning.
-mickey gray
lines of poetry about you
pour out excessively
unknowingly
naturally
my heart is swollen
and i am dripping honey from every pore
i'm like a ripe fucking peach
you have made me soft
and i am ready.
-mickey gray
i'm running red lights with my eyes closed tight
and i'm drinking until the hardwood feels like home
i swear there's more to me than you think
i'm sorry that i'm not your spitting image
and i'm sorry that your god feels more like a threat than a promise
i'm not sorry that my heart beats hard for things you don't understand
i'm not sorry that i have a soul that covers this empty city when it's all laid out
my chest is heavy tonight
and you're praying that i can change
and that i'll find my way
but i'm praying
to anything that will listen
that you could listen
just for a moment
to the pounding in my chest;
to my heart that sinks
lower and lower
every time i feel you losing faith in me.
-mickey gray
i'm falling again
and it doesn't hurt at all
it's light
and it's warm
and it's as soft as his kiss.
- j, mickey gray
tugging at my knee socks
as soft chills cover my body
it's a new season
and another month not touched by your hands
i find myself changing little things about myself constantly
i cut my hair above my shoulders
and dyed it a shade of lilac
my mother says it's lovely
i try my best to smile at strangers
and write things down as they happen
so i don't forget
because i can't keep living in the shadow of my past
i'm making efforts to assure that the future will be brighter than the days spent in the dark
suffocating in the thought of you.
- november, mickey gray