Fricked (Poem)

I know you. I think that’s the saddest part

I used to quote your favorite song when things got hard

I can’t really remember the chorus now

Ever since you left… It’s lingered on the tip of my tongue

It’s a bittersweet thing

Like hot tea that has gone cold from too much conversation 

And ghosts that stutter over broken hearts and too much good

But I do… I mean, I do stutter when I hear you say “I hate myself.” 

Because I don’t know how you could hate someone who looked at me like 

I was the sweetest thing you ever pressed to your lips 

I know your smile, and the tilt in your head when you're confused 

I know the hollow in your eyes when someone swore they would stay

I know the secret link between sharks and coffee, too

It’s something that lives in the cracks of my knuckles 

In the weight you never admitted you carried 

But now- 

You sit across the room 

A shadow flower-pressed against the wall 

The ghost is still stuttering over not enough words said 

It paces in the silence we left behind

I don’t know if he realizes he’s looking for me

I know you

And that is the saddest part 

You remain

As the ghost that never leaves my room


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

But they cradled me, yes? (Poem)

I cry a lot At least every 1-2 business days Sometimes I plan out my mental breakdowns I have time after class on Tuesday evenings but Thursdays are all booked This world is full of a lot of hurt Hurt that was blessed to me the moment I entered it Hurt that was cursed to me the moment I said "Hi" Hurt given to me as a gift, in a red paper bag with glitter Hurt, I’ve given others as hatred spewed before love ever did And it’s given me a trauma-filled liver Kidney stones that make believe that some things will never pass My central artery veins are all clogged up with things that lead directly to my heart My head often forgets my rights and lefts and who loves me when I am weak Even with my body failing and my head forgetting It never made me angry It never made me cold It never turned my heart into a concrete statue, as if it’s something to be admired Nothing in this world could take away my softness My plush cheeks hurt from smiling too much My heart that’s tattooed on my ski...
Read more

God doesn't [Ctrl + C] then [Ctrl +V] (Poem)

God doesn’t copy and paste  He isn’t like us because he doesn’t want just to replicate or replace  He wants to create, and so he does If life was a canvas, there is no such thing as a default tree he makes  He gives every tree a different DNA code; He sprouts them in different ways  The leaves and fruit that come of it are in different spots and different shapes  He doesn’t make every birch and oak and spruce the same  But even more so, he differentiates:  Spruce from spruce  Birch from Birch Oak from Oak  In the same way that snowflakes are always different A beautiful lace that is wrapped in frost  Every intricate part of their heart different  All you have to do is look outside Look at the trees and blades of grass Dandelions you blow on to make a wish out of  Rivers that aren’t just dug into the ground but curve with the land When God created the lily of the valley flower, He thought of me! When He handcrafted the droop of ...
Read more

Imago Dei (Poem)

When I think of the Imago Dei, how we are made in the image of God I like to think that skinned knees were part of the package That Jesus Christ, He had skinned His knees from playing with the neighborhood boys Or maybe He just spent too much time on His knees in front of His bed talking to His Father I like to think that Jesus also had a freckle on His left arm just above His wrist Or that Jesus had a cut on the upper part of His jaw when He shaved for the first time I like to think that Jesus would think tattoos were cool but would never get them  I like to believe that Jesus loves the phrase “heart on His sleeve” because if He’s anything like me, He too wears His heart on His sleeve If Jesus is anything like me He suffered from facial erythema from crying too much  I wonder if Jesus had green eyes that had spots of orange and brown when He was happy I wonder if He understood the tightness of skin when bloating and the sag from starving I wonder if Jesus ever looked up at th...
Read more