Melody and Memories

For a week,
I loved you in color.
And maybe, looking back on it,
it was “lusted”,
but regardless,
you kissed my smiling lips
without any pretenses.

And though we have grown apart
and though you have fallen
into another’s arms,
this doesn’t hurt the way it used to.

And everytime I hear a song that reminds me of you,
I’m biting my lip,
fighting a smile,
remembering the week where 
touch was normal
and I could be wanted (again)
because you had me seeing stars
and explosions of color. 

This Poem Isn’t About You, But Thanks, Anyway

I’m not having a hard time
believing in something called
radio violence;
in wrecked 
car crash messes
of butterfly wings
that have fallen from being
strung up amongst my ribs
and landed flat,
stagnant,
in my stomach. 

I am not quite certain of what will bring them back to life. 

I used to want to be called an author
but I am human origami
sitting in folded up masses of limbs
tucked behind places they should never be able to reach,
foot behind ear,
I still hear you every step of the way
it took me to admit that I had become a poet
in the face of disaster.

This is something make-up cannot cover.

Mask or disguise,
when I write to “lover”
know it is just hollow heartbeat
place holder soul
never Savior,
knight in shining armor
rusted on the road that led to Damascus,
I was blinded by the light that told me I
know longer needed to play damsel in distress. 

So, without further ado,

I introduce my self-conscious,
uninhabited hatred of self
turned to romancer of my reflection,
I fall for its charms each time.
I am pretty in that I can see beauty
in other things.
Know that discord alone can 
bring harmony
and that symphony is a 
mix of instruments, played at different intervals,
mess-formed,
but never messed UP 
melody.

I cannot write love poems.

I write about palm kissers,
and shadow chasers,
start my stories with “Happily ever after”
because I am often left with
“ONCE upon a time…”
far gone,
possibly wasted. 
I searched too long for princes,
when I should have been climbing down my tower,
forget trellis,
razor shredded tresses falling all around.

But,
when you look at me,
when you take the crazy,
when you make me laugh for sweet seconds
that don’t feel like agony…

I want to. 

Because somehow,
those memories,
the ones that stopped my car battery,
stop singing,
and I watch your eyes grow wide,
because in the cocoon of us,
butterflies are swarming. 

We’re Oil & Water & I Like It That Way

I am an attention whore,
and honey,
I’ve tried to turned
your baby blue eyes
into brown
too many times to count and
you say things that would never dare
come out of his mouth.

And frankly,
we talk too much about sex.
I will never give you sex,
and that’s like a necessity for you.
No judgement.

So I’m sorry,
I’m trying to go from co-workers to friends,
and bribe you with food.

Thank you,
for admitting you walk behind me just to stare at my ass.

But don’t ever (again) call me “cute”.

Forgive Them Because You Deserve Peace

I’m calling it quits
with memory.
You see,
the two of is just weren’t working out,
falling out of love never happened so fast.

The way I fell for reality,
though,
damn shame it took me this long.
I’m choosing to be happy,
because I deserve to be healthy
(in the very least).

I deserve not to feel suckerpunched
when pictures of you appear on my dash,
but we haven’t spoken in
weeks.
That’s not fair to me.

You see,
I will always love the you
in my memories.
no matter what you’ve done or did
to me.
I do not give up on others
so easily.
And if you ever need me,
you know how to reach me.

But I’m done with thinking I’ve lost
because I’ve been left.
I’m finding myself,
regaining my health
you know the spiel:
physically, mentally, emotionally.

I’m not going to call you
“lover” or even
“baby”

I’m going to say all your names for the last time:
Aaron,
Kyle,
Marshall,
Juan,
Zeke,
Mike (both)
I’m letting you all go
finally.

The ball’s in your courts, if you ever wish to find
or refriend me.

Who are you now?

Who are you now?

Because I’m pretty sure I hate you.
Strongly, strong, strongly dislike you
in the very least.

Because right now,
I’m falling to pieces.
And it’s not getting easier.
And time doesn’t heal (any)everything.

And I’ve tried forgiveness,
it quickly gets replaced with bitterness.
Yes,
your leaving was catalyst.

And maybe I didn’t deserve answers then,
but I am past due for your rational reasons
why you left
or felt you had to,
why you waited until I
confessed my sins and fears,
before fleeing,
keeping them all buried inside your chest.

I never treasured you,
but the smiles that you gave me,
the ones that stayed on my face as I fell
asleep
in love
both are now synonyms,
because at least sleeping dogs don’t lie.

But you,
bitch,
your bark never matched
the bite you left,
gaping in my side;
at least you could’ve stayed and
enjoyed my bleeding out.

Let’s make one thing clear:
that I am not in love with who you are
but rather who you were,
or should I now say what?
I know that I love ghosts of
summer’s past,
and I’m pretty sure
your brow doesn’t furrow the way it used to.

I’m sure you sit behind a desk,
attend a class,
and know your life holds far more stress
than I ever could have given you.

But I loved you, babe.
Damn, did I love you,

And damn me,
but I refuse to let that love live forever,
when my future does not include
past summers,
and dead lovers
with no pretty words to
warm me or my bed
at 3AM each night.

Stepping Back

Hi guys,

So I’ve been in a weird rut/mood lately.
And everything I’m writing is either contrived happiness or venting. And yes, the majority of this blog was made up of venting.
But I just need time away from writing because frankly I don’t want you all to deal with my whiny/miserable work when I myself am miserable.

It’s not fair to you and it’s definitely not stuff I’m proud of.

I ask that you all send good vibes or prayers my way as well as healing.
I’m in a weird place right now, but I want to come back better and fierce.
Making you love language again the way I do.

So here’s to a mini hiatus while I get my shit together,

Gabby