As he walked back he resigned himself to another sleepless night. Of thinking of her and trying not to call it love.
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

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@poemsipopped
As he walked back he resigned himself to another sleepless night. Of thinking of her and trying not to call it love.
I am tired now in a way I recognize as bad but not fatal
as recoverable but difficult
as possibly the reason I keep going back to your instagram page to look at the photo of your family bringing you a birthday cake
its the best photo I have ever seen
I have tried to take this photo in so many ways
you have a gift
game was not one of them
I feel bad on the surface
and beneath that I feel a hundred thousand emotions I hadn't known before
I feel so comfortable and safe with you
you could ask me for any of my secrets and they would be yours
nothing makes it better like making it worse
I used to want a rollercoaster to take me everywhere
Can you imagine?
Can you imagine if all the things I had wanted as a child I got?
I would have too many horses and husbands for any normal human.
but people like us don’t get happy endings
people like us don’t win the fight
and if I could change the way the stories go, babe
wouldn’t you think that I’d make it right?
empty parking lots
open spaces I can’t fill
alone where everyone comes to go
to places and cities I never will
and I know for a while you’ll solve all my problems
and I know for a bit I will be all good
and I know without question that it won’t last forever
yet I won’t stay away like I know that I should
“a love poem it is not”
but, honey, they all are. They are all longings for something and longing, as discussed, is the most potent part of love
you could write about all the amphibians in shades of Mary Oliver however faint and I could sniff out your love for the elusive kiss at the corner of Mrs. Darlings’ mouth or the genesis of the frog’s croak or whatever keeps your own heart beating
I hear your love because your poetry makes you human
as we,
yes we,
we are
just walking, breathing, piles of love
childhood is many things
gatorade bottle filled with movie titles and songs
persistent summer sun scorching pale shoulders
wet bathing suit not allowed in my grandmother’s house
and protection I still think I have against the bad things of the world that happen to others
the blessing, lifelong, of adults who cared
there are parts of people I want to take into my arms and kiss
the crease in your neck where the sun has not burned you up
the folds across your top lip
the weathered skin gathering in folds over the back of your hands
to collect your humanity from the part of you
the crack, the fold, where it seeps out
and hold it close to my own
we are not perfect by our own standard and we are left in this world for a short time to worry and toil and die. but that pale skin on the side of your neck is holy and your soul is seeping through and I would like to catch it
And, I know, for a while you will solve all my problems
And, I know, for a while I will be all good
And, I know, without question that it won't last forever
And still, I wont stay away like I know that I should
Where are you tonight?
I have been going out of myself trying to meet you without pretense
I can guess where your hands are busy working without looking up at the time
Your distraction only making you more worthy of treasure
I know where in the world your left eyebrow is ticking up in suggestion
Suggest something to me alone
Meet me somewhere safe and private
So you can sit and tell me about your mum
How she tried to teach you piano
And then ask me about my day
Stay longer than you intended
I'll tell you about the time I broke my toe
Just one story more
Just one more shared meal
Just come downstairs
Tis not love that I crave
tis the longing and the leaving
Tis the frantic joining
and then the wretched cleaving
the sparkling hope
the burning lust too
and then the drama and pain
and tears of adieu
spun round by the fates
and won't pause to think why
forever kissing hello
and then screaming goodbye.
I have always loved fridges covered in photos
I wish I could live there
that life could be messy and warm and full of love
but life is at some points pure misery and darkness and it feels like winter has come too soon and will stay too long
but there is a picture of you on my fridge and I see it every day and it is beautifully disguised
it hides amongst needless papers
stubborn and insistent to cut through the imaginary importance of everything else just to say
that loving each other is the only thing we are truly meant to do
My love for you is sacred
and I keep it’s reminder next to my yogurt
Yesterday I watched pigs being farrowed
they slipped right out of their aching mother and knew immediately where to go to find what they needed
warmth and milk and after a few fumbling minutes they were able to secure both
and I walk around on this earth with the tiring act of searching for something I need
when perhaps I might have been born knowing it and somehow forgotten it along the way.
Tonight I chased planes through satellites and stars
I remade the constellations to be dinosaurs and flowers
they were mostly flowers
and I sank into the soft snow and wondered if I have been fully myself at every moment that day
and if it mattered
I lied once
a decent average.
I felt like an idiot
so I ate a pound of cashews
it didn’t make me feel better
it didn’t make me feel better
I told everyone my issues
it didn’t make me feel better
it didn’t make me feel better
and I worried and thought for much longer that the deed
it didn’t make me feel better
it didn’t make me feel better
I watched the stars and felt what I need
it didn’t make me feel better
it didn’t make me feel better
and I thought
I don’t need to feel better and I don’t need to feel worse
the end is not written there exists no such curse
and my job is not to feel better or master that domain
my job is to notice the happiness and pain
the good feelings that ebb as the weighty ones flow
the biggest and smallest as they come and go.