Posts tagged writing poetry

fuck that ring

I remember the day in a brewery you glanced at your hand and said with surprise, “Look, the indentation from my ring is gone,” and I thought finally, because I had been waiting for that to go away.

That fucking thing, that fucking ring, was the thing that hurt me most. That symbol of a broken promise still lingering on your skin longer after the pressure was off.

What happens after I find out you put it back on because you miss her, that life, that ring? My heart breaks and we break, and there’s no surprise in … Read the rest

petulant child

Interesting choice, deciding after all this time that maybe you’d rather be alone. This is fine, I tell myself. I’m tired of treading water with you. I’ve been the most patient person the world’s ever seen, when I make excuses for why, after all this time, you won’t marry me. Nothing to see here, I think, as other couples walk past us in restaurants. When do we go out that we don’t spend just a little bit of time resenting each other? We can barely dine in public without making a scene. This isn’t fine, I tell myself now. … Read the rest

is it lost?

It’s time to go, I think, but there’s nothing I can do, there’s nowhere I can go. This little house is our house, not just my house anymore. Three other souls are home here, and why should there be a switch because I can’t get my shit together? I wake early now, much earlier than you, to do the things you used to do like pace the floors and weep. I am praying that someday soon these words will take a turn for the better, that I’ll find out someday whether I can write poetry when I’m happy. For … Read the rest

let’s keep dreaming

Before we spent hundreds of sleepovers together, there were games of musical chairs and run rover; we were children together. We were awkward adolescents tent camping in your backyard so your parents wouldn’t bother us, we peed in the woods, we used your tennis rackets to see if we could swat bats out of the sky. Youth was effortless, wasn’t it? We used to dream about the future like it was this exciting place we’d finally get to someday – adulthood! And now here we are, and look at us. The greatest joke between us is that all we do … Read the rest

vanilla

The things that used to scare me were the ideas that I was under private investigation, or I would be ambushed, or I would be punched in the face.

Now, I’m scared that my life is being wasted one day at a time while the things that are second nature to me are banished from my existence.

I always knew you were vanilla, but I never thought you would be cold.

Today’s poetry prompt words were: private investigation, second nature, and vanilla.

Photo by Orissa Humes on Unsplash

against all odds

That we even met was against all odds, despite my name being there in the trees in the town where you lived. You drove by my name for years — “It’s a sign!” — but now the trees are dead, and will soon be gone.

I swear to myself I’ll be picky in chasing the new love of my life, swear to myself that next time I won’t compromise on my needs. I’ve been doing somersaults to just get you to want me; it’s backbreaking work, and I’d like to be done now.

It hurts to not feel … Read the rest