Please don’t go around throwing me bones.
I want things to be incredibly easy, for us to mean what we say,
but when it comes to the list of things I want, I must say you’re somewhere near the top.
It’s dangerous, the way I look at you, looking at everyone else.
It’s so horrible the way I want you.
It’s awful. I hate it. I hate it, and I really do desperately want to hate you.
But hating isn’t nearly as wonderful as loving can be,
and you say I’m replaceable.
We live, and we breathe, and we drown, and we come up for air, and we will learn to swim.
We try and we fail and we give up or we persist.
Either way, I know whatever this is, one thing’s for certain-
it won’t kill me.
So you left. Well, technically, as far as you know, we both left. Too bad, I was hopeful. I wouldn’t ever have told you, but I dreamed of art gallery openings and falling asleep with nothing but messy paint splatters and laughter linking us. Well, such is the nature of art. Hopeful, violent, and evidently destructive. Don’t try to find me, because the last thing I need is to be found at my weakest. I almost wish I never told you who I really am, because now I can’t even call you a friend. I can’t call you a friend without being a bad actor. Without the stability of you, I’m a little lost. I’m not going to lie to myself. I’m going to be pathetically honest- I dreamed of being your muse, the one constant in the middle of the explosion of colors. It’s okay, because blue and red don’t always make purple. Sometimes, we get excited and we end up fucking with our pallets, staining our brains with the violence, the strains of faded chaos in the form of dye that won’t leave. We were short. Not even that long, so I have practically nothing to get over, right? Around people, I can joke. I can act like it never even happened. That is, until I see you. You. Wearing your hoodie that I both hate and love. I always hated the way it had no pockets, but I loved falling asleep in it in hotel rooms that we weren’t allowed to share. I loved the idea that I could be wrapped up in you yourself, how dare you walk in late, unexpected, half asleep, wearing something that used to be mine. I was in there, in that stupid hoodie, I’ve slept in there, and it being yours made me feel like it should be mine. Like you should be mine. It all hits too fast, because you were mine. you. were. mine. And I messed up, and I had you after wanting you for so long, and I let you go because I don’t know when to appreciate what I have. My friends are worried now, am I okay they ask. Yes, I’m fine. Of course, what else would I be but fine? It was mutual. It didn’t even last too long, I had nothing to lose. Perhaps it’s a good thing I never made it to one of your art walls, I would’ve hated being framed. Perhaps it’s a good thing your doodles stayed doodles. Undefined lines. When an artist tells you you’re hot, you take it. But when an artist doesn’t tell you he appreciates you, savors you, you get concerned. I don’t need to be concerned anymore. I had smudges of eyeliner under my eyes tonight. I couldn’t help it, and the temporary ink designed to make me look half awake came crashing down in feathery tidal waves that almost looked beautiful. But they weren’t. Just like when you left, I didn’t have to ask where you went. I don’t need to know anymore. Such is the simplicity of not needing to care anymore. You’re sick? Get well soon. Sickness is difficult. To be fair, loving you was worse.
bc this poem is too freaking relatable. I’m suddenly weighed down by the fact that these exams are a little more than 1/3rd my predicted grade (!!) I know that all’s been quiet on Queertastic, because I’ve been writing for BayArt quite a bit. Wanna get involved as a poet? Check out how to here. Bye for now 🙂
it’s my fifth cup of coffee
it’s my second desperate try at clinching this knowledge
because to know is to achieve
and I want the sweet relief of not being a failure
it’s about highlighting
and being efficient
but honestly being a human is standing between me and “success”
Ah, exam time.
A necessary evil we must survive.
This is a difficult post to write. Anyone who’s ever had to leave a relationship can probably relate. The sinking feeling of walking away. You know that you’ve cut yourself away from something that you’re probably better off without, and yet you feel like you’ve just stupidly tied yourself down to misery. This is just going to be one of those unsent letters.
You’re in a pretty good place right now. And it makes me so, so glad that you’re where you should be. I can’t say I regret breaking up with you, because you were a good boyfriend but a pretty bad person. You made me question my priorities, and I think I fucked up a lot because of you. Regardless, I did love you, a whole lot. I should know, because I was never more heartbroken that when you accusingly asked me as soon as I broke up with you, “you never really loved me, did you?”. Of course, I loved you. So much that breaking up with you felt like I was stabbing myself repeatedly. It was good for me in the end, and that’s what counts, I can see that now. It’s just the odd night that I think back to the little paradise we created for ourselves- we filled it with loving words and we laced our fantasy with actual integrity. When it was you and me, there wasn’t really anyone else.
Sometimes I think you deserved someone so much better than me, because I got tired and stopped trying to keep up with you. You were a constant beacon of contradictions, but I though I had you mapped out. I feel like the way I broke your heart (and I know I did break your heart, we both broke each other’s heart, it’s the elephant in the room that we both might as well accept) was too cold and too cruel, even though it probably was a standard breakup. I didn’t have any faith in our relationship, which is why I let go. But you thought that as long as there was love, I would stay. The thing is, I abandoned our love because I lost faith. I don’t regret it, but I do feel guilty every now and then. You deserve to find somebody to love.
I hope you find her. When you do, I’ll be right there cheering you on.