Coping Still

And if I had stayed,
I'm not entirely sure where I'd be coming
home to.
If your lap would become rest stop
for my head,
would your fingers travel through my hair
a map made by tangles, the way they did
the first night I kissed you?

Were we really like that once?

And if I had stayed,
would that home be welcoming?
Would I not miss you the way I do now,
except be physically closer?
Would you leave the sound of lasers and
boss levels to stay with me until I slept?

But I didn't stay.
And lately I miss you more than less.
But I don't regret leaving,
because in the process,
I reclaimed myself.

So I'll stay lonely.
And the questions can remain unanswered.
It hurts, but it's truly for the best.

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Ms. Lonely, circa Summer ’16

This is for the
sieves like me.
For the girls bleeding out
and feeling empty
amidst the company.

This is for
every time my fingers
locked up at the joints
instead of typing
“Miss me?”

This is
me trying to find
peace
of mind
instead of a
new “piece”
for me.

This is Sargent Pepper’s
Lonely Hearts Club
with my heart as
drum beat.

This is all the friendships
I left out at sea.
This is symphony
of summer 2016.

This is trying to be okay,
right now,
and positive,
someday
I will be.

Satisfaction Guaranteed (A Poem You Don’t Deserve)

And this is ‘what I want’:
Sitting on my knees,
on top of your bunched up sheets,
mine & your fingers twining,
messy hair & baggy T’s,
backdrop of ‘Fight Club’ &
the glow of your TV.

I’m holding my body like a cell tower,
watching your eyes flicker at surface level;
wishing my veins were wires
so I could possibly connect with—
trick myself into believing
we are something worth
being tangled together

& not just our tongues
or our legs,
but the look shared
when I tell you it’s okay
if I’m a pit stop, because
I love listening to you at rest.

& I’m sorry this is not a
sext or a CD
or skin brushing skin,
but rather stitches being
ripped.

Here’s ‘what I want’:
Banana custard,
to be laughing,
to have you look at me
like I’m made of poetry
& the aftertaste of tragedy.
That something isn’t pretty
unless some part of it
is cracking at the seams.

So I’m sitting on my knees,
looking at you across a
bed full of everything
we’re going to leave unsaid,
& waiting for your turn to
break me,
bend me,
until every pore is oozing,
honesty,
until there is nothing left,
but messy.
Until we are exposing the
grievances between our
teeth, until our palms
are touching because we
need to make peace with
something & between the
two of us, I don’t want
to be another thing that
simply fizzles out,
another failure to our generation.

Between the two of us,
I want to be the thing
you cling to when the wind
is howling & there are
branches scratching at your
window & some plane of
sanity is the only thing
you’re seeking.
I want you to come to me
& I don’t mean
just fucking.
I want you to read
this poem & understand
what I’m saying.
That all words written
are bled through lead instead
of breaking skin.
Instead of tearing at some
animal instinct in my veins
that says I’m only ‘good’
when the moon is waning.

When you, of all people, ask
me ‘what I want’:
I want you to get it.
I want to watch ‘Fight Club’
& have silence not feel
like it’s strangling.
I want to feel like all
inner demons will fall away
with something as simple
as two palms kissing.

I want to make love to your
lonely,
& I want you to hold mine
through the night.

How to Keep a Bed Warm

This is what it comes down to:
we put our efforts into people
like we are
wrecking ball.

A few swings and
we’ll break the mortar;
heart becomes warm hearth
in welcoming cavern.
but darling,
while idealizing fire,
we often forget the burn.

And I am often
witness
over anything else,
I am the
magic 8 ball,
collecting dust on the shelf;
I and I alone am
responsible
for repeatedly doing this
to myself.

And
this is what it comes down to:
that an empty bed
is a
worse fate
than a
hurting heart,
that
we aim wrong
on purpose,
knowing we’ll make
our
some sort of mark.

This,
this is what it comes down to:
as a boy
and a girl
cross paths,
making rotten decisions
on both their parts.

Sometimes,
we choose things
laced with heartache,
because they’re better
than what we’ve got.

Can’t Sleep

It’s almost 1:30
AM
And I’m wishing I just had someone to text

Like K
Or even M

And I…
I’m swimming in memory.
Alert, awake, and
Empty.

I wish one of you
Would message me.

Back in September,
K,
We’d be face timing

M,
I’m up
And my head aching.
Contagion,
I want your hands all over me.

I’m warm and
Restless
Anxious

Unfocused.
Nervous about
Homework and just
Tired

Maybe lonely.

So hold me,
Kiss,
Tease,
Play with me.

I don’t care;
I just want company

Christmas 2013

The holidays are the hardest.

Neither probably knows how much I’ve thought of them this holiday season; one in remembrance, the other to replace. 

But I dealt with it, in my own way. And yes some days, the pain was hard to take. Some days I wished one of you would just hold me until I fell asleep, regardless of what I meant to you, or if either of you would show up in my dreams.

At that moment, I was willing to take nightmares just to see one of you; just so things could go back to the way they were.

I’m not sitting here typing this as if grief has overtaken me and all that I am, because we all know it hasn’t. But I am sitting here, not claiming to be a strong, independent woman because we all know I reach others through my weaknesses. And we all know, you two more than anyone, that I carry many with me.

I have tried to make sense of things, of you, and you, and all I usually am left is feeling pity or feeling angry; sometimes a mixture of both. And one of you I want back in my life, not that you are needed, but because in my mind, you fit so perfectly, because in my mind I pictured you amongst my family and they loved you, loved you for me, and you, in turn, grew to love them. That is something I never had with him.

My dad and I have gone to Applebees at midnight and he reveals that he liked you because in you he saw himself. In your face he saw anxiousness; and when I spoke, you listened to me with interest. He claims that before, no one ever seemed interested. Like I never had someone who I clicked with or laughed with or seemed comfortable with. When I thought I did.

Funny how when a relationship is over people are quick to tell you, “I never liked so-and-so for you, any way.”
But I did. At one point, I must’ve loved him, regardless of whether or not I can remember.

Now who he is now, what he is now, that’s a different matter. That is a stranger and ignorance is our best friend, coupled with avoidance.

So why am I spilling random thoughts upon a page when neither or you are physically in my life, but are always mentally in my mind, and sometimes emotionally hit my knees with titanium baseball bats so I can’t rise from the ashes, so I’m crippled forever.

So that I can’t walk on my own, so I’ll have to search for other crutches.

Because today, on this beautiful Christmas morning, I woke up and thought of the both of you.

Because today, on Christmas morning, I sat with my family at our kitchen table, and when my uncle joked about what my boyfriend got me for Christmas, I broke down in tears and had to leave the table.

Because today, on Christmas morning, as I lay in my bed, trying to escape for a few seconds, trying to compose myself, my grandma entered my room just to sit on my bed and ask if I was okay.

And I told her it was hard, especially on the holidays, and I tried not to think of either of you because you made me sad and I didn’t want to be sad on Christmas.

And she told me, I know it’s hard, especially on the holidays. She told me she missed my pop pop and her voice cracked and we both started crying.

Because I had one of you for a little less than three years.

The other entered my life for a month just to leave without warning.

And here was this woman who lost the greatest love of her life, a love she had for 48 years before he was taken from this world to be in heaven and she still lived her life, and rarely brought him up.

Yes;

the holidays are the hardest.

But eventually, 

though we may not “get over it”,

eventually we find a way to move on.

And that’s what you have to do.

That’s what we did when we left my room and descended the steps.

That’s what I have to do now.

Spend these days with family,

only care that they are the ones who are happy and healthy,

and remember that today is not about me.

Was never about us,

won’t be about a “we”.

The holidays are truly the hardest,

but each year,

they get a little bit easier.

I gotta believe they get a little bit easier.

 

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays,

Gabby

In(nocent)tentions

So,

you’re kind of adorable.

And you dress nice,

so that’s a plus.

But I won’t press this,

I won’t rush this,

because I’m waiting on the Lord.

And honestly,

as impatient as I can be,

I wouldn’t mind being lonely,

if I could at least talk to you every day.

I haven’t just talked in a while without

delving into my insecurities,

revealing things no one truly knows about me,

involving both desire and fear.

I’m not asking you to fall for me,

or to even call me pretty,

though that would be nice.

I’m asking you to let me breathe,

let me be,

and take my own advice.

I promised I would not love because I was lonely,

but people like you come along,

and it doesn’t seem so wrong,

but I know it wouldn’t be right.

I have some integrity,

I have a little pride left in me,

to wait and see

what you really mean

when you say they aren’t laughs out of pity,

or that you’re laughing at me,

when you say you find me funny…

Let me charm you for a while.

And I will do so every day,

just to see you smile.