missing from her own life for years now

Much too old to still be this clueless. Nordic, bi, and angsty, writes crappy poetry to try to make sense of it all.

[themissingpoems]

A sky full of water that remembered it could fly great waves spill from horizon to horizon so small I cannot be so broken cannot be that the wind would take hold; all my molecules victims of gravity and yet: I am whole, now

[themissingpoems]

I stole a map to the starsigns across your body what a silly thing to keep; you were never mine to navigate and new winds are stirring

[themissingpoems]

She’s made of glitter and brimstone and the surety of youth the years have left me dull; Lend me your spark, girl but don’t fly too near my gravity will pull you down

[themissingpoems]

Days Short Black Icy Cold

These are the rain-slick skins we wear don't dare look each other in the eye and only only fools and drunkards smile here heretics! witches! not our kind!

but I've become too thin of shelter northerly words bite all the way inside

[themissingpoems]

Wishes and wings on equine things: that I would be kissed by more than rain on my skin

[themissingpoems]

The Sphinx

Answer me this in truth or in blood: what hides in the morning what tells lies all day what needs to reach out before night comes to stay

oh you beast, how dare you it's been me all along

[themissingpoems]

Coming up on two years of inconsistent, erratic posting on this blog! So I’m not so big on “editing” or “quality” or stuff like that here, mostly just try to BLEURGH out emotions (some autobiographical, some borrowed)  into words and hope for some sort of catharsis. End result being mostly, well, bleurgh.

That said, there are some poems that have become personal favourites for different reasons, and I might as well make them easier to find even if only for myself. So I’ll be going through the archives and tagging those as maybenotcrappy. So, uh, feel free to use the search thingy. (Much eloquent. Sheesh.)

[themissingpoems]

Painted face very beloved are these porcelain limbs and bendy joints Can you say "mama"? Can you say "let's play"?

So much better for us all when she sings and sleeps and pretends to eat and pretends to keep breathing every day keeps breathing

[themissingpoems]

Don't ask this of me that I should give up sorrow the only crown I'll ever wear

a child's gaudy plaything fit for the tragic heroine how do I play any other part?

[themissingpoems]

Sustenance

I latch onto hurt keep nuzzling at its teat it feeds me; I feed it my perpetual motion machine throw heartache into its gaping maw an acquired taste for imaginary sleights

what would maintain me if not the savored tang of being wronged

…what indeed.

[themissingpoems]

Is Helen really to blame for this siege on Troy? We all crash on her shores; I thought I’d learned but end up breaking all the same

[themissingpoems]

you are not in these arms why are you not in these arms what use have i of - what use am i

[themissingpoems]

Kept all my bees in a row little saddles and spurs, I won’t get stung; set them a-running circles in my brain (distract, my pretties, distract!)

but I’m overtaken tar honey sticky and sweet: drowning in avoidance

[themissingpoems]

Green fingers there is nothing else left I can give life to

[themissingpoems]

Something's gone behind these eyes a fire no longer Too young to be embittered much too old to be naive When am I just here? When present at last? Lost in time wasted again

[themissingpoems]

Crafty

Paper-thin skin, still, a poor excuse for armor these days I’m held together by   gaudy stickers and cheap tape and scraps messily glued onto jagged cuts, but also: swathes of lost-and-found fabrics in vibrant bold patterns luminous stitches in needlepoint glitter falls into cracks along my fault lines I am a quilt, a collage a patchwork of me

[themissingpoems]

Aurora

The skyline a bruised color she knows all about pain in these quiet hours