Tuesday EveningWeekday Series Themed Poems About an Impossible Crush
And I can smell Fall blooming
Looming are the orange leaves
And everything it means
To shed the past
Shedding all that holds us back
From being able to begin
And when I drove to work this morning
With the heater on
And your playlist loud
Feeling all of the joy in that word
As if there’s a means to an end
As if there’s an actual end that means something
To the five year nap
I’m just waking up from
And it’s nice to come to
Just in time for hoodie season
Just in time to try to make sense of the reasons
I feel these things for you
I felt it in the morning brisk
In the chill of the mid-October
Early morning breeze
And in all of the gray clouds
I could see
I could see
And I turned the volume up
And I rolled the windows down
And I let the first rain kiss my skin
And I left the heater on
I let the nostalgia of a freshly blooming Fall have me
All of me
And when I finally got to work
I couldn’t remember the drive
Only the time
And in all of this was your face
Smiling at me through the playlist that I made
Just to remind me of you
when i was 5i knew i wanted to grow up to be a madmana wild eyed reflection of white crazy hairwhere we all drive behind time jumping wheels requiring 1.21 gigawattsto get us anywhere but by the age of 10i'd learned betteri knew i was supposed to be a gangstera...
In this newfound Summer freedomWith short sleevesAnd sun-kissed skinThe hot lips of a cloudless dayAnd I remember what it’s likeTo walk hand-in-handWith someone who smilesJust because they know youJust because when they turn their headThey know you’ll already be...
It’s 3pmIn the overcast glow of a prolonged winterIt’s probably Spring somewhereBut not hereAnd it’s kind of perfectThe way the gray matches the painThe way the pain matches our eyesAnd we both see itAnd we both pretend it’s not thereLike I saidIt’s probably Spring...
It’s 11pmAnd I can’t stop thinking about youAnd what it might be likeTo feel the weightOf your bodyHeavyIn truth and effortAtop all of my naked passionThe madness in the hungerThe absence of sense in the urgeMakes the yearningMakes the waitingMakes all of the...
you wear love on your sleeve the way they used toin black and white and dramatic celluloidand we kissto the sound of remixed Mozartand renovated Beethovenbut nobody really caresand wewellwe're not really listeningeitherwe're too distracted by the momentsby the...
an average conversation with a stranger:"hello. I Love You." and I've got nothing else to offer but cracked ribscaged by the display of my stain-glass smilefragile but full of faiththis is Mea Poet dipped in Human skintrying to believe in a theory:words can change the...
When we talkWe all speak in genderFluent from the tongueAre the soft pinks of She'sAnd the militant blues of HisPronouns never had a choice My voice is a sirBigger than my courage will ever give me credit forBut I can't afford to shut upI can't afford to ignore this...
It’s after midnight now. On January 11th, 2016. You did not die today. And I feel like a total weirdo. Sitting here by myself sobbing uncontrollably over you. Over someone I do not know. And then, “Lazarus” comes through my computer speakers. “Look up here, I’m in...