I can’t open my mouth
because I might just scream
but I don’t want you to worry—
it was just another nightmare;
the shaking will stop eventually.
Please don’t look away.
How strong are you?
My eyes meet yours
And I want them to do that trick,
The one where it looks like
I can see into the depths of your soul
(if I were to believe in one
But it works as a metaphor)
But the beauty of this trick
Is that I don’t actually know
What I’m seeing.
I wonder if you know this trick
Or if you’re actually
Staring into my soul.
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Thank you for the smile
I didn’t see,
but don’t worry;
they told me about it.
I wonder if you saw me
the first time I felt confident
without my hand against the wall.
I wonder if you saw me
the few times I was completely alone.
Sometimes learning new things is scary
and this was definitely scary
and I’m definitely bruised and hurting
but it was fun.
When I greet 5 in the morning
after a night of tossing in bed,
I watch the sunrise from my window.
But I only see the grass, the road
and the tree that’s been there since
before I was born,
so I watch the colors of the street
change from so-navy-it’s-black blue to
indigo to denim blue.
I lose my train of thought
thinking of God knows what
until finally I finally see the grass
and wonder when it became green.
You see, I like to measure
distance
through shades of blue.
I find that you can always tell
how far away a mountain is
by its color
just as the first glance of land
while lost at sea
appears as blue as the sky.
You can look out at the stars
and feel so incredibly alone
until your desperation calls for light
so you go inside and hide until
the sun rise
and its rays lighten the world,
blue is gone from the grass
and everything is safe.
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Tonight, the Moon is full
and we’ve spent the last
two hours pretending to be on a date
to amuse our friend.
But then we went to the café
where we split an ice cream crêpe and
a glass of chocolate milk.
The waitress asked us if we wanted
the candle on the table lit; you said yes.
Our drink came with two straws
and we both believe our waitress
is doing her best to give us support;
every other couple here is “normal.”
We talk about many different things;
by the end of the night I’ll feel like
I’ve learned so much about you
and when we finally leave the café
we walk hand-in-hand and you
yell at me for not holding the door open for you.
We find those train tracks you wanted
to climb before;
we trace them now
and you hold my hand, now because I’m terrified
that a train will meet us in
a cruel date with destiny.
We still talk, now about children’s names
and the tracks seem to go on forever
and night sky is just so fucking beautiful.
At the intersection of tracks and road, there is a bridge
I decide we must cross.
A creek runs below us and our hands
are intertwined.
Stories are told; impossible stories
I wish were true
but exist only with the wildness of imagination.
We still haven’t let our hands go
and I don’t mind because
part of me never wants this to end.
There is something magical about
the sound of rushing water
and there is something beautiful
about the friendship between us.
When the next full Moon comes around,
I want to remember this night.
I want to come back to the train tracks
and holding hands
and this laughter
which makes me forget
how much I want to cry.
Because sometimes life sucks
and there’s little I can see
to make it better
but you help.
It’s impossible to escape
the beauty of the night sky
when you can see the stars
and the Moon, even when clouds hide them.
It’s equally impossible
to be sad when I’m around you.
I want to return to the creek by the tracks
and the pond with water so calm
every light reflects.
I want to come back to this moment
where I’m not worrying about responsibilities
or any unnecessary stress.
For these hours of serenity,
I must thank you
but the companionship under the stars
was more than I could ever ask for.
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I want to love you
the only way I know how.
I want to show you the stars
and the planets
and the spaces between
where nothing exists.
I want to love you
with open arms that only close
when you need a hug
and I want to be the strength
you don’t know how you
would live without.
I want to be the reason
you smile as you
fall asleep
and be what propels you
to be more than what you
ever thought you could be.
I want you to be the reason
I start writing love poems again;
unable to say anything I
really want to
but I will go down trying.
I want you to be the reason
I look for incoherent metaphors
struggling to describe wind
or the colors of the sky;
I want to love you
like nothing else makes sense in this world,
knowing it doesn’t have to
so long as we’re together.
I want to write you
every sappy line I can think of
and only feel slightly ashamed
that I couldn’t think of anything better.
I want to love you
like my six-year old brother loved Pokémon,
throwing pretend Pokéballs in the air and shouting
“I choose you!” in the front yard.
I want to be the reason
you walk a little taller
and believe that there’s nothing
anyone can do to stop you.
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I’ve found if you play music loud enough
most problems cease to exist
and can be found only through
the silence as the song switches.
I find myself listening to longer songs
and keeping it on repeat
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Under the cover of darkness
and in the security of blankets
and the refusal to think about
the actualities of tomorrow,
we can make promises
that, in this moment,
we full-heartily believe
that will come true
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If I asked you
If you wanted to watch the sunrise with me,
Long distance,
What would you say?
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I want to hold you
as tight as the security blanket
I kept secret for years
after I needed one.
Post with 6 notes
Constellation Street is where the broken ones go,
the ones looking for humbled heroes and forgotten dreams.
It’s where the lost ones go
when they want to be found
(because everyone needs to be found sometime).
It’s a place where dreams go to survive
and I have stars in my eyes
and I never want to let go of your hand.
Time comes to Constellation Street
to stop.
It learns to leave people alone
for a little while,
to let them breathe and
not worry about deadlines
or missed meetings
or anything, except themselves.
On Constellation Street,
you create the legends of the gods
living in the skies above.
Not everyone’s sky will be the same
but we will never run out of stories to share,
still looking for ways
to avoid the problems that persist, even here.
On Constellation Street,
the stars are always over heard.
It is a place for hopes and dreams
and not looking back.
On Constellation Street,
the houses go on forever
so anyone who needs a place to stay
can find a home waiting for them.
There are many miserable souls here
and I wish I could help them through
but we all have reasons to be here.
One day, we may gain the strength
to leave the homes we’ve made.
Because everyone has to leave sometime
and when I finally figure out what’s fucked up with me,
I still never want to let go of your hand
and wen I find myself needing to leave,
I hope you come with me.
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It was over a year ago
when I wrote a poem
after I turned to the sky,
seeking some help
when I couldn’t solve a problem.
I turned to the sky,
found an old wrapper in my pocket
and threw it in a fit of rage
against everything.
I found Jupiter in the sky
and the fact that this was Jupiter
comforted me.
Probably because it was something I knew
but it was so bright in the sky.
Now, life’s problems have continued
and there isn’t much I could do
to stop them and I battle with
an inferiority complex
and a desire to stop answering questions
people insist on asking.
Once again, I don’t have the answers
and I suspect this will keep happening
but I wish it wouldn’t.
I look to this sky
and see stars I’ve never seen before
in my brightly-lit home town.
I see constellations that I recognize,
like Orion and Casseiopeia,
and they’re presence comforts me,
like a warm blanket or a good friend.
I see constellations I vaguely recognize
and wonder if I think long enough,
maybe their identities will come back to me.
But I don’t stare long enough to know if I can—
my eyes dart to the suns that the clouds are
about to hide.
Before, the clouds looked palpable,
even reachable because you could see
the distance between the stars and the clouds
and if the stars are so close,
perhaps the clouds are within reach too.
Now, they create the illusion of
the stars moving faster across the sky
than they should.
I watch the Big Dipper cross half the sky in minutes;
I know this is wrong
and I want my brain to fix it…
but it refuses.
This bothers me more than the future
I’m refusing to think about.
The only way to hide from these stars
is to go inside
but I’m not ready to give up the night yet.
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Dear Sir,
my friend told me to write you
“I really like your shoulder. May I use it?”
Not to be creepy,sir, but
you were adorable to watch
as you slept.
I have no idea who you are but in
the two hours of this bus ride
I’ve written you so many ways
and I just wish I had the courage
to walk the four feet to your seat
and ask your name,
maybe strike up a conversation.
Because each time the bus stops
I’m scared it’s yours
and I’ll have missed the opportunity
that I will miss anyway.
Dear Sir,
even if you don’t wish to know me
I hope you at least enjoyed this note.
If you’re looking for me,
my name is Lexy
and my number is available upon request.
Post with 3 notes
Dear Ace,
my arms still hurt
from the adventure we went on
yesterday.
I don’t know when you’re reading
these words so I hope
you know which one I’m talking about.
I’m listening to your playlist for the first time;
I’m alone in the booth
and it feels like today is the first time
I’ve eaten lunch alone since we came back.
You should have warned me
that some of the songs might make me cry.
I was walking and almost
let the tears fall
and I’d tell you which song
did me in but
I’ll let you figure it out.
I don’t have anything else to say
so I guess I’ll just end it here.
Thanks for the new songs.
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