Last 3 letters of the spring

Just call it what you want.

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  • golden retriever boyfriend

    `I say I have nothing to say, then I proceed…

    saying

    more

    but as in

    rage-cleaning my bathroom

    at 2 am 

    ‘cause honey

    I remember the things you did

    and the things you didn’t

    The story is as old as the world

    the saddest ever

    one-way ticket

    I love you

    But it is not enough aka I wanna fuck my coworker 

    we play tennis together

    but you will never even say fuck out loud

    Choose your words wisely

    The pervading ones linger

    like a german shepart guarding 

    the sheepfold

    And where is the soul in this mess of a friendship, my love?

    A code word for losing feelings

    as if feelings were ever a reliable standpoint

    I should find myself one of those

    a nice guy or something—they say that’s the pick of manhood

    It’s just

    I am obsessive, compulsive, and crazy

    In the older days, they were calling it love

    How many more obviously depressing, obnoxiously picket white fences 

    do I have to set on fire?

    as in rage-writing 

    a novel 

    about 

    all the things you apparently never really wanted—thanks for the heads up

    But it’s ok, my darling

    I am good at making up stories 

    I know your intentions were good

    and you’re FINE anyway

    It’s just

    I’ve been writing a novel

    about all the things you weren’t ready for

    It says I love you

    like a million times

    it lingers

    it lingers

  • I’ll miss you forever. Do you believe me?

    my touch

    unworried

    `first time seeing clearly after years of blindness

    I remember it all started as a joke

    shapeshifting as a way of hiding

    A very tall girl

    blindsided by the spotlight

    easiest thing ever

    making you feel cool

    my touch

    unworried even when

    yours…

    <sinking feeling>

    shallow

    mirroring your broken childhood

    made me feel worthless

    mirroring my broken childless efforts to please a small giant

    Growing up too soon

    Looking up to someone who’s chasing “experience” 

    foolishly worshipping the spotlight

    giving up virtue

    burnout days of the youngest daughter going to war for her man

    I’ll mother some more

    feelings of sonder

    I’ll father some more

    touches unworried—saudades:

    for the boy performing 

    longing

  • OCD

    the strokes; the Wednesdays; the stockings; the warm water; the sign of my teeth on your skin; the red is dry; the playlist 15; the date 15; the seven…all of the men you don’t mind touching me; the witch: the floral dresses; the long hair; the vanilla body milk; the nudes; the lace underwear; the weekly reviews; the slow eating; that apartment; that bed; the serenity; the Sunday mornings: the yoga studio across the street; the creepy dolls are seen from your window; the yellow flowers; the home-made dinners; my mispronounced words and your perfect English; the burned pancakes; your plants it’s a jungle now; my never-ending movie list; the 2am drunk kiss on the Charles bridge; the something sweet; the habits: the good, the bad, the boring, the weird; the closed blinds; the nightmares; the I need to see your face; the delayed flights; the bro and all of the unfinished; I locked myself out again; the don’t forget the keys; the parsley in your fridge; the head: the intimacy, the ownership, the lust, the greed, the rawness, the open windows, my loud noises; your hangovers; my late, slow mornings; all of the things you said you need to do with your life: my poems, your hoodies, my pillows, the little kiss of my shins; my hide your bitches, your she’s on her way to me; your I am still here; your we’ll figure it out; your you have me; the june: the black, the white, the blue, the boring, the weird…a scrunchie. 

  • NYC

    Feeling like a guinea pig teaching devotion

    Got an endless list of unpaid internships 

    scamming middle-aged dudes on LinkedIn  – claiming experience

    working for free, outsourcing injurious superstition

    You were supposed to be home

    Where are you now? 

    NYC’s got a new mayor

    We probably made the same joke

    about his very hot wife 

    dating apps for socialistic hearts — outsourcing precariousness

    precariously in love 

    but not them, no

    What about our loft in Brooklyn? 

    Call me crazy again

    Use the big words

    Scream!

    Do something, babe

    I’ll stay anyway — will you notice?

    like a rock waiting for time to mold me

    like the mold on our wet bathroom tile

    You never turn the ventilation on

    It dried-out 

    Somehow it’s worse

    crazy pathetic it’s your loss — stop romanticizing poverty! 

    I am already starving

    You called me a witch in the back of a cab 

    Outsourcing practical magic for dummies

    burn me, or something

    ‘cause

    How to finish

    If HE isn’t

    kissing my shin in the same way — I’ll say it happens sometimes

    Just do not rush, I’ll get there

    Outsourcing love for dummies is the new black?

    What about our loft in New York? 

    It was not pornographic 

    It was existentially erotic

    but

    I’ll wait for someone kinder

    I’ll set reminders on Hinge

    Tinder’s no shit

    Moving across the ocean is only fun in theory

    ‘cause wait until you get the keys to your new loft, and SHE isn’t me

    Provided Services: head 

    over heels 

    felt like a robbery

    And you said you wished you had some waiter experience 

    in a filthy bar 

    clearing the tables — living the life of a Buddhist

    You wouldn’t have lasted a week

    outsourcing fomo for dummies

    Stop romanticizing poverty! 

    I watched season 3 of White Lotus alone – where the fuck were you?

    Place of Work: NYC

    When I said: Do something, babe! 

    I meant, please come back or something

    What a pity

    devastatingly brutal 

    Haters will say I am hurting

    I guess I am

  • looking for zebras

    If it smells like lemons

    bitter and cold 

    If it looks like lemons 

    sun-coloured nipple-dry “thanks for the cab”  I’d say

    when the yellow-haired-love-of-my-life

    wants me kneeling at the bottom of his pelvic bone

    Or, 

    Perhaps 

    The sound of them hooves brought me back to a land of hope 

    It smelt like lemons 

    stinging feeling

    might bite!

    It looked like lemons 

    sun-coloured nipple-dry orange-like 

    but lemons

    …

  • Here’s the difference

    I am over you

    Or, am I tripping?

    I am over you

    Or is the time just poorer?

    I am over you

    Or am I being ruthless?

    Have I cried all the tears at yoga? Do I have something left for the sidewalk?

    I am over you

    Or, am I just keeping it cool during the week? Weekends are for eating pizza, rewatching Twin Peaks, and touching the bliss

    I am over you

    Or have I buried it 6 feet deeper?

    Have I ever been honest?

    Unlikely — a crybaby with sharper cheekbones

    I am over you

    early in the morning, when the sun rises

    I see rainbows in your hair

    Your motionless body is peacefully sleeping 

    You wake up first, eating your protein bar in the kitchen

    I hear the door

    you slammed before leaving when rushing to work — I haven’t left that bed yet

    maybe tomorrow, or the day after that

    compulsively drinking magnesium, iron, and more

    Will I ever awaken?

    I am over you

    Or have I forgotten to look for the only living boy in this city?

    Some days are harder than others

    Most of them are just days I keep eating my food in my kitchen, in slow motion, looking over my shoulder

    Nobody’s coming, I just look over 

    lovingly 

    I am over you

    Or am I just hiding inside the apartment where all my stuff is? I don’t even think I miss you

    It’s just, you haven’t even seen my new place

    funny tho, you seem to be everywhere

    And I wouldn’t want anyone in my house

    except your motionless body sleeping peacefully in my bed

    eating protein bars in my kitchen

    Taking showers — too long

    making my puzzle, completing the circle of desperate lovers

    kissing 

    a crybaby with sharper cheekbones

     Am I over you, or simply pretending it’s over? 

    I keep forgetting leftovers I promised I’d eat

    stored deep in your fridge

    I am over you

    Or has my hair grown longer? How much length does it take to forget 

    the last three letters of spring? 

    And what do you say when it’s over anyway? And what do you say when it’s not?

    I am over you 

    It’s too late

    I am torn

    draining shit

    Do you still want it? Let’s fix this — how? idk

    It doesn’t move on

    It simply is

    early in the morning when the sun rises

    And your side, still empty, of the bed you never slept in, ‘cause everything’s haunted 

    I live in my head with the ghosts unwanted 

    impolite company taking way too much space

  • Limbo

    It’s my turn to play coward

    Run away and hide my bones

    Just to kiss the face of a scarifying Casper

    playing a crowd—he was too

    just a boy once

    forgotten by fate

    Or, at least

    stay there 

    where there is no sign of death or gravestones

    in between

    How dreadful of me to get horny for a ghost

    I think about you often when I…

  • Everybody knows crazy chicks swallow

    Tell me something

    a story about a little girl with hazel eyes running

    in circles waiting for a life worth living

    wearing a dark green hoodie 

    still remembering the humming of 4 Sons

    forthcoming, the voices hazy

    Tell me something light, like the dust on old books or the first day of winter 

    When it smells like cold, velvet scarves, wrinkles 

    around your mouth 

    Cover your body with a shirt 

    navy color I see

    When I catch your eye, I take my clothes off 

    I want to make you beg for me

    nostalgic depression—in the elevator, 4th floor

    doors closed, moving swiftly

    I want to make you beg for more

    watching the back of my head in the mirror

    Come closer – I am done crying, stay in my life as much as you like

    Here, drink some water, my darling

    I want you to sleep in my bed, build a fortress of pillows, wake up early, and dance when you eat

    tell me nothing about love—I want to make you beg for me

    Tell me something about darkness

    It must have hurt when your grandpa died

    Tell me how your heart gets smaller every time you can’t remember 

    where you’ve placed your keys

    That one time in remission, he knew your name for a minute

    You look like your brother, he said

    and never called to mind again

    Tell me something about losing control—the leader of all the holy angels

    I want you always, I want you sleeping safe, bare in my bed 

    Tell me something about forever

    It must have hurt when you got that gotta talk message

    She didn’t say goodbye

    She said nothing

    I thought you were going to leave me

    just like 

    When my grandpa died

    I still see him conducting orchestras

    Each musician only hears the one leading, but never the others—they drive in the dark

    Tell me something about the time you felt like running

    Because you look like your brother, he said

    and never called you by your name again

    It’s maj btw.

    Tell me something about forgetting

    I am happy, I promise

    Tell me a story about the warm, bright morning, and her first words were

    I am still alive, not a serial killer, that’s nice

    reaching for your arm

    the lips

    only just meeting the shape of his head

    forthcoming, the voices hazy

    hazel eyes unflinching 

    I want you to beg for more

    Give me the light at the end of the tunnel

    If there is something at the end of this maze—I want you always, sleeping safe in my arms

    Tell me again about the time you felt like choking

    at the look of the wounded creaking soul

    I remember the day 

    She didn’t kiss me goodbye

    She took her book when she left, she hasn’t stopped crying since then

  • Borderland

    you are still upset 

    makes me look bad, really 

    makes me feel like an asshole

    I said, I know it’s been a while 

    and I don’t know why I am still crying

    I guess I am just tired 

    abandoning myself like a homeless child

    cause what I really wanted you to hear 

    was:

    Why aren’t you sad also?

    How can you not be missing me?

    Or is the dying quietly milder than the missing out?

    When you slept with that teammate of yours, was she a part of that friend group from work?

    Or, perhaps she was the ultimate girls’ girl by

    leaving a cheap-reeky scrunchie behind…

    A good time in my favorite bar? doubtfully a nicer fuck.

    I’d hate myself if it wasn’t that—awake 

    in the dead of the night, all soaking—always blonde, nails painted, not even pretty

    You went alone on that vacation 

    Soul Searching 

    sipping Negroni in an overpriced hotel lobby

    All by yourself, never missing, never needing anyone 

    Meeting that one old-ass couple 

    giving you perspective on company, quiet vows, staying kind

    They said, You think you have the time

    But you don’t really

    You only have now—wisdom tooth is crooked! 

    Tell that girl that you’re still lurking 

    Trust us, she knows 

    but do it soon…right now even!

    Before you run out of exposure

    you gotta trust they won’t kiss&tell why you couldn’t without love <awkward silence>

    You returned all hopeful

    called me late at night

    saying 

    let’s grab a drink next Saturday, but what you really wanted me to hear was: 

    missed you

    kinda’ awful 

    not moving to Big Apple—they did reject my visa twice 

    Maybe next year, after my birthday 

    I’ll try—right…only when you want it badly enough 

    I couldn’t get out of bed on Sunday 

    I wouldn’t understand

    You weren’t missing me, it seemed like 

    I went on our vacation

    just me…and that one old-ass couple said

    If you really love that one person, make sure she knows 

    You think you have time, but you really don’t

    and all the pretty faces—nothing more than the illusion of a choice

    If you think about that one girl often

    Call her, tell her you’ve been thinking 

    You’ve done much thinking 

    You went on that vacation 

    and met an old-ass couple

    Best Friends

    Happy

    They were barely talking—but you don’t need words when there is intimacy 

    They gave you some perspective 

    And you see it now 

    All the important things have always been important

    It’s just 

    It’s been a while

    of

    abandoning myself like a homeless child

    And I can’t understand why you aren’t crashing out

    I saved your face in front of my friends 

    Yours know me as the crazy ex

    Why isn’t she blocked yet? 

    That time in Munich—leaving it all behind 

    Taking you to strip clubs

    Updating your dating apps 

    You need a rebound! 

    Get under someone blonde

    Or was it a dude? unless it’s daddy’s issues for men—and here I am, still wearing your hoodies

    and my hair is long again

    Come on, go on! I know you really wanted to
    I mean, if I wasn’t doing it for you, someone else surely would

    until

    That old friend comes knocking 

    You left the door cracked open when

    You swore it was locked when

    You swore it was true when

    You said like-like

    You said me too

    Your loyalty would be feeling like cheating 

    Borderline abusive, she wasn’t even pretty 

  • Bleached ends

    I don’t want to talk

    I have nothing to say

    aside from

    forgive yourself

    forgive them

    forgive me

    Forgive the world for lacking honest tears and brave men

    and the evenings for changing into bitter nights

    and the mornings for still grieving the shadows

    Forgive the bottles of wine 

    emptied

    for dragging your feet

    shuffling 

    bolting the door with my body

    and my shirt

    unbuttoned 

    drying out a call

    the music for moving something—-sunken once

    deeper inside

    draining away my scent 

    smell my hair when you hug me and let it sink 

    Forgive the end of the world for never coming 

    and all the empty chairs left empty when all you need is swarm

    Forgive the voice of some reason

    any

    for never penetrating the grit you’ve built yourself on

    and the rain for washing the traces of 3 summers, another 

    stand-in lover

    losing its ROOK

    Forgive ME for arriving untimely

    deprived of devotion

    with my second-rate rawness

    awaiting my turn to be given charity

    despite my surrender

    denying my drought

    Forgive yourself for foolishly losing your battles while I was at war with myself

    winning for both of us

    giving up confidence, becoming dust through your fingers

    Forgive tomorrow for never coming

    proving not enough

    Forgive my ugly thoughts for not being cleaner 

    I’ll bleach them, I promise.