poetryandprompts

[poetryandprompts]

i’ve never been a fan of change.

you cut your hair. i no longer recognise the back of your head.

i stare at it just the same.

what is it about you that captivates me so?

she has changed and i have changed alongside her.

you wouldn’t know this, of course.

you would think if i could handle that, i can handle a haircut.

but i couldn’t.

i can’t handle change.

and i don’t know if i ever could.

but im willing to try.

for you.

[poetryandprompts]

this poem is about being nonbinary.

[poetryandprompts]

sometimes i wonder if i'm a good person

i don’t think i’m a good person.

i’m barely a person at all

i think

i wish the world were more forgiving

maybe then

i wouldn’t be punished

for simply living

[poetryandprompts]

could you write a list of prompts for losing a loved one?

listening to their favorite song

smelling their perfume/cologne

going through their old things

deleting their number from your phone

trying to talk to them

slowly forgetting their voice

not remembering what color their eyes were

looking in the mirror and seeing a piece of them in your reflection

looking at pictures of them

[poetryandprompts]

i hate being an older sibling. i’m trying to be better for you but doing so only raises the bar for you. everything i do, every choice i make is for you. but somehow all i ever do is end up hurting you.

[poetryandprompts]

i just remembered i used to have a friend as a kid.

her name was Dahlia.

i never thought id forget people i was friends with as a kid, but i remember next to nothing about her.

we rode horses together.

her favourite colour was orange.

she had dark hair.

her name was Dahlia.

that’s all i know. and it hurts;

i wonder if she remembers more about me than i do her?

i wonder if she remembers my face, my voice, my eyes?

and then i wonder if she doesn’t remember me at all.

and it hurts.

[poetryandprompts]

You were the comma in the sentence of my life. It didn't end there, but you surely made me pause.

[poetryandprompts]

My tragedy is that I was a child full of love. I was full of it, but stuck suppressed by immature adults. Unable to show how much love I encased because I was taught anger was the best expression.

[poetryandprompts]

the center of my universe

the center of most people’s universe is the sun.

the one the planets revolve around, the big yellow one in the middle.

and it makes sense, of course, for the actual center of the universe to be theirs; but it isn’t mine. no, the center of mine is a girl.

she’s the kind of girl they write books about, paint portraits of.

to some she is the moon, but to me she is the sun.

she is fun and sad and her pain makes her all the more beautiful.

she is the center of my universe, messy yet elegant in her ways.

i know her zodiac sign, her favorite songs. 

i know that she can’t walk in a straight line, that she cries when she’s angry.

i know her pain and heartache, her scars and her loss, but i know her strength and her heart just as well.

she’s a soldier in my eyes, fighting battles unseen to the naked eye.

she is the center of my universe, if only because we are in the same boat, treading different waters. 

i love her, and i just hope i show it enough.

[poetryandprompts]

we are just moments

we drove past the old house today.

i saw the spot behind the shed where we buried the cat.

the spot where the grass is burned up from our old firepit.

before our family broke,

before we split apart like shattered glass - the same reflection, in pieces.

they painted the house white, it isn't red anymore.

they cut down the apple trees that attracted deer.

the chain-link fence was replaced, it isn't broken at the corner anymore.

the sidewalk was redone, the memories washed away like chalk.

i haven't seen this house since i was four, and it's unrecognizable to me now.

i remember moving away even though it was ten years ago.

since then i've gotten taller, i don't need a stool to see in the mirror.

since then my brother stopped playing the hard levels in my video games.

since then you left.

i can't help but wonder if i'd be okay if you'd stayed, or if that would only make it worse.

my hands shake, my head pounds.

we take a family photo, dad to the right of us, you Left.

we drove past the old house today, and it doesn't look the same.

but then again, neither do i.

[poetryandprompts]

look at me.

look at me, mom.

it was you who robbed me of life, of the chance to be human.

you who murdered me. who changed me.

it was you who made me into this. this thing, this monster, with teeth and claws.

i would rip your throat out if it weren’t for him. he is sweet, he is gentle and kind. i am not. you made me mean, apathetic.

you taught me to hold myself accountable.

look into the mirror, how does your reflection differ from mine?

you are afraid of me because you are me. because you created me. made me this way.

i hold the anger in my hands and try to understand.

[poetryandprompts]

i changed everything about myself after you. now every time you tell someone what i was like you're wrong.

"she sang soprano in chorus" i sing alto now.

"she only wore silver jewellery" my favorite necklace is gold.

"she always wears baggy jeans" my favorites are bootcut.

you don't know me anymore. and i don't know how to feel about it.

i know it’s for the better, and yet.

and yet i can’t help but wonder what would have happened if i hadn’t found you out.

if we had gone on as we were.

would you be upset with my depressive spirals, would you hate me for my panic attacks?

would you think me a monster for what happened with my mother, would you think me a liar about my father?

if i had peeled back that last layer of myself, would you still be here?

i’m glad i didn’t stay long enough to find out.

[poetryandprompts]

and what if it is too much to ask to be loved?

[poetryandprompts]

i’ve stared at you so much that i know the color of your eyes, even though we haven’t talked in weeks.

i’ve stared at you so much that i could tell someone how often you adjust your hat.

i’ve stared at you so much that i could tell someone a lot about you. maybe too much.

you never look at me, though. i see the back of your head more than anything.

i wonder if i asked you, would you even know the color of my eyes?

our only conversations were short, uneventful. yet i pay too much attention regardless. i notice too much.

you��d think me a stranger, a stalker.

i promise i’m not.

i promise i’m not.

[poetryandprompts]

A little bit of all of the passages I wrote about you were smeared onto my hand at one point. Some of the ink seeped into my skin, the rest swirled down the drain when I washed my hands.

I tried to avoid the ink as best I could because it felt like having a part of you with me.

[poetryandprompts]

well. my summer of like is officially over. i didn’t even notice the time passing. all i felt was your absence.

i keep thinking about calling you, but then what would i say? what could i possibly regurgitate into my hands and thrust at you to make anything any different than it already is?

i think about that night we fell asleep together in the backseat of her car. his a week later. my bed the night after. you should’ve been there. you should’ve been here. but you weren’t and we’re both okay with the memories that are leftover.

maybe in 600 years we can do it right. matching aviators and a fifth in a paper bag from now we’ll be different people. better people.

you said before you’ve known me in every life. we’re always partners in crime. some grand scheme we never fleshed all the way out. a hundred mysteries unsolved.

but the summer is over now. the summer is all we had. spring ended the dogwoods died and killed our dog too.

[poetryandprompts]

I am fond of lovers but I cannot love, I am too far away, am banished.

~Franz Kafka, Diaries, 1910-1923