#pumpypoem

[pumpypoetry]

Winter

Maybe im not cut out for the east coast life Winter brings me to my knees I die with leaves on the trees Falling every autumn To be violently reborn in spring Summer is the only time im alive Surviving on memories of past years Heat bitter sweet when it hits my skin Reminders of past lives Every new life comes with new love, new adventure But the joy comes with the biting after shock that all is temporary Soon the cold snap in the air will become a chilling wind that will steal my lovely summer away. Dropping me back into the cold dark basement of winter There is nothing for me here Only echos of past summers resonating in my ears for 8 months of a year. This is why i do not write happpy winter poems like you say i should

[pumpypoetry]

I'm a joke to you

The spirits in your head whisper jokes to you upon learning my name

The grass must have tickled in your lungs that night on your porch

Maybe one day you'll let me in on the joke

Because your laugh was indescribable

But it must have gone over my head

Your whole body shook with it when you swore you loved me

Maybe that was the joke

Because you had to choke it back

While I sat in a white sterile room

I hope you enjoyed the show

While I laid on the bathroom floor

But don't worry about me

Because I'll be sure to get the last laugh

As the bullet leaves my gun

[mysti6]

I know I love him because my mornings are different when he's here

When I'm alone I'll begrudgingly wake up at 2 pm and immediately reach for my phone

Spend an hour updating myself on the world before I can even think about getting out of bed.

Some days I won't. I'll lie there for hours staring at a wall or a screen not really seeing anything.

If I do get up I'll down some coffee and power smoke a cigarette while complaining how much every morning is Armageddon in my house.

But when hes home I wake in golden morning light. I've never been a morning bird but he looks the most beautiful while still peacefully asleep.

Then I'll cuddle into him a little longer, trace the lines of his face and watch as his mouth curls into subtle shapes

Then I'll get up, wrap myself in his fuzzy robe and make us both coffee. He can't start a day without it.

Then we will talk and laugh over a cup for an hour if we can. His bed head is the cutest thing I've ever seen.

Mornings with him make me a morning person. And that's how I know I love him

[mysti6]

Facebook quotes and self help book reading socialites tell me that it's ok to lose friends.

That it's part of growing up

And that sounds great, a revolving door of friends with fresh perspectives on life and healthy lessons to teach you

Ya that would be great except making new ones is so damn hard when you are a snail who prefers to hide silently in her hand painted shell

It's quite nice in here. Burgundy painted walls littered with picture frames and potted plants to keep me company

But there's not exactly room for two.. or three or four or however man constitute as a social event because I'm not sure anymore.

When I reach out of my shell, try to have some semblance of a normal human interaction, it feels as alien as it would if I were trying to learn German from a dog.

But my people, the ones I thought could squeeze themselves into my shell forever, have now grown too large for this small town.. or simply bored of me.

They all say the same "keep in touch" "I won't forget you" but how am I to keep a relationship going from afar when I can't speak to those sitting directly in front of me wothout the fear I will lose my lunch

When you can't text someone first, when you make plans only to feel the overwhelming dread of leaving your room drown you until you make up an excuse on why you can't, it makes you easy to forget.

One day I'll be the girl they'll see in yearbooks and old instagram posts and have to think hard to remember my name. Then they'll pick up their coffee and continue with their day.

[pumpypoetry]

The night i met you i bearly remember More alcohol than blood ran in my veins I took a walk in a field Away from the fire and the laughter of strangers i had no idea would become friends I sat on cold wet stiff grass I watched the stars swirl above me I wonder if van Gogh was drunk when he painted stary night When i finally made my way back to the fire a new game had started A card game meant to make us all too dizzy to think A boy with long hair and gentle eyes taught me to play He seemed to have more sence than the reat of us While we took 11 drinks in a row he settle arguments and kept people focused I repected him, i wanted to be like him I used to be like him Before beartbreak and stress and a need to be accepted lead me to this fire On my 12th beer sitting next to a boy who openly bragged how he would fuck me tonight I suddenly felt very out of place here among people who dont even know my name yet know intimate details about me that my closest friends dont The boy didnt seem to fit in either These were his friends sure But he wasnt like them His eyes I couldnt stop looking at them More expressive than most faces I wanted to know more about him So i came back again and smoked weed i didnt like Again and drank whiskey that made me sick And again to drink and play a board game i didnt understand He was patient with me, told me i was smart, that i would have no trouble keeping up. I see him drunk for the first time at his house An entire bottle of orange liquor to himself We sat at a small broken table while the bragging boy screamed to music that was too loud We talked about real things. We talked about murder, morality, mental disorders We talked for longer than we ever had And when he got up to throw up i went to bed next to the bragging boy on his couch I told the bragging boy i didnt want to see him again He told me he never cared But thats ok because niether did i He filled a hole in my life conveniently Now i didnt need that Weeks went by before i got the nerve up to speak to the brown eyed boy again When i sent the text my hands shook so badly i could bearly type What if he thinks im weird or a slut What if he only said he liked me to be polite When he answered i thought i might actually throw up. We talked for hours and when his best friend invited me to hike with them i had to say yes We walked at the back Being deliberately slow in my progression to see if hes hang back with me. A gentleman, he held branches aside and helped steady me when i stumbled But never anything more. The next day i told him i loved him Im insane Absolutely insane The words flew out of my mouth without much thought But three days later he said it back

[mysti6]

Does a drunk mouth speak words from a sober mind Or is it simply better at getting what it wants The "i love you"s and "forever"s are they trapped inside the steal bars of your brain? Do spirits of fermented fruit release them Take the weight away to make them easier to say Or do you say it freely just to see cover fall to the floor and feel a warm touch for another night

[pumpypoetry]

You can not make homes out of human beings They are not a place to climb inside and hide in They are not a thing to be bought and sold They are not four walls that can be decorated to fit your idea of comfort Humans are simply human Until you meet one that feels like coming home Feels like a Sunday morning Coffee brewing and music lulling I’m the back ground A day spent in pajamas basking in glass filtered sunshine

[mysti6]

I've packed us into a box Top shelf of a closet Out of sight out of mind Right? A year's time Two Healing all wounds Right? New lover to rest weary head on New body and mind to explore New adventures await For it's been too long to go back Too much time has rotted old love Story pages browning Far too withered and worn Times cruel fingers twist into a long dead shared heart Where a beautiful medow once lay A wasteland of carnage remains A decomposing corpse of my former self has been laid to rest But some nights the dead begin to walk Memories fuel unbeating heart to flutter A nerve twitch some may say But to throw the box away, burn the corpse and lock the ashes in steel Something I can not bear To crush the withered flower And shake away the past The thought burns my belly Like a swallowed match How does one shake the past Let Times tide wash away yesterday Live solidly in today? I am a collector of antiques Relics from past lives And this will be the death of me.