The last 3 letters of the spring

Just call it what you want.

recent posts

  • Guildford Road, Blowgun Bridge, Slippery Slope

    You can't love someone into being ready
and I know I know
They aren't here because I am 
and I know I know
They aren't running because I am chasing 
and I know I know 
    They aren't leaving because I am staying 

Something’s broken
The third eye drops down, sinking 
Testing my immunity 
Against the same old same old
    Wish me luck, babe
I might be godforsaken
    I am so in love with you, I just want to lie down in the middle of the street
and cry 
That street, yes - let's just agree you stay on your side and I stay on mine
unless it's you who's goddamned 
Had you left on time…but you lingered
    doe-eyed, dog-tired, love-making turned into something 
more foreshadowed
eyebrows high
grinning up at me
Had you noticed on time…but you must get rid of everything now 
the parsley in your fridge 
my half-empty vanilla body milk 
    Something’s broken
The third eye drops down wide-open
Testing my immunity 
Against the same old same old
    Wish me luck, babe 
I might be godforsaken
    sex is better when you rail something up
sex is better when you're drunk
sex is better when you're young
sex is better when 
when IN LOVE 
    doe-eyed, dog-tired, love-making turned into something 
sadder
    You said you weren't ready 
What about now?

If I dissociate hard enough
I can pretend I had fun
...
There, there

  • Witchy eyes

    It all starts with a phone call
From there, there is only one leap into the void
I could probably go and knock on some doors and beg for a couple of minutes of small talk
I can't change their mind even when they open

I am crazy. 
I am mad.
I am insane.
    Weaken my knees and tell me how fascinating I am

I am mad.
I am deranged.
I am not in my right mind.
    When I talk, you want to strangle me...with a scarf? It's a tie
Or, that one sob I still repress - kink shaming my troubled head, please don't
don't
Look me straight in the eyes and tell me - 
Tell me, but use your words this time

  • What? Nothing.

    If you had asked me then what I wanted 
I would have said nothing 
but now
Now I want the sky and the dead stars
all of them
I want their ashes
stored deep in my tiger scars
    If you had asked me then what I wanted 
I would have said lovely
It's just 
The tears were scratching the back of my throat 
but now
Now I think it is terribly wrong
Such a mindless question coming from such a sharp-witted boy
I always thought you were smarter than I was 
And there is nothing lovely about that
    It almost feels like kindness 
    exactly 
    what I 
    should have 
    back then 
    when you 
    did
    love
    me too 

  • These are my days of intolerable lucidity:

    I keep talking to them as if they would understand me
I keep hoping they would
I keep holding space for their personalities to resurface - rise above and walk on water

Fuck, my…
suboptimal pain threshold of making mine yours
rejecting hope as a dangerous habit
‘cause I knew, I knew I’d have to be deficient in something
I keep expecting them to answer in the way you would 
    for the record, 
they do not.

  • I watched a stupid TikTok and the stupid song made me cry\\\\\\

    I wouldn’t need a reason, you know that, right? I don’t have one now either. I’m just, it’s been two years, and you are still the only person…yeah, I won’t say that out loud. I was thinking the other day about our imaginary life in new york—the one you didn’t know anything about, because we never actually talked about it, because I was afraid we’d break up. We did. Anyway, there is no loft; there is no kitchen island; no yellow flowers; no collections of fine wines; no burnt pancakes on Sundays; no sex on the windowsill. Everything is gone. I will never go to new york; I don’t want to go to new york anymore. fuck new york.

    It wouldn’t be love—just a yoga studio around the corner; I’d eventually find a bookstore owned by a tiny woman; some random barista named Jil would get my order right EVERY SINGLE TIME. I wouldn’t adopt a dog, but I’d have a little kitten. It won’t have a name. It would wake me up at night. I’d share it casually: “Last night, it snuggled down in ITS sleep next to me”. I can’t let go. You had the largest smile. Forgive me if I made you uncomfortable. I probably made you uncomfortable, that’s why. I was wrong, yk, I was so wrong. I should have said something; I should have sent you the letters, and I did. I did send you the letters, didn’t I? All 45. You read them all.

    Please do not answer. Please never answer. It’s a moment of weakness. Tomorrow I’ll be fine. I am just sleep-deprived. I am just tired. So very tired. I am just lonely. I’ll find someone on Tinder. I’ll take a shower. Put some clean clothes on. My long-sleeve shirt…the green one, yes, I should burn it or something…no, it’s not the smell; I have a washer, yk, it’s just…it’s been a heavy day, such a weird day…I almost…no, I promised! I wouldn’t dare…not again…and I know, I know…you are probably dating someone or something, you are probably busy or something, you are probably over or something…My voice is not shaking. I wouldn’t need a reason, you know that, right? Next week it’s my birthday, but you know)

  • GLP-1s

    This is a very serious poem with no hidden meaning
I think it happened when you left the table while I was still eating
I think—it’s happening again
what has already happened when
I kept reaching for nothing
I stopped kissing lightly
the lips that weren’t kissed but hunted 
    I joined forces with the foes, all friends of yours
They all agreed—the fool is dancing for the king, not vice versa, unless he’s dunning
You can’t pretend there is no punning
The fool is always dancing for the king!
There is no lion
You won’t be roaring 
until you get to scream out of your depth:
You are just a poem
You are just a poem
You are just a poem now
    You will be missed when you stop trying—I know they all despised that greedy pig
You can’t pretend there is no punning!
Unless he’s funning you or them or me: the unbearable darkness of staying loyal
I think—it’s happening again
what has already happened when 
I called on GOD for ships to sail—the last one seen has shipwrecked:
How have you been? 
Fine.
Slept alright? mostly, yeah…
But yk, you weren’t there…marking your territory, luring the sailors onto the rocks
like a drowning siren, I can’t sing anything anymore
It must have sailed 
The spellwork must have failed

I am smiling and terrified…I can’t write anything anymore
I think it happened when you left the table
while I was still there, frozen, in the ducking stool from Ikea, I always hated that chair
    In the elevator, 4th floor, you said you were happy—there was no lion roaring 
    I know you always despised me for asking
I pretty much knew it was over after that

  • Ready?

    Eyes closed.

I summon her images
her face 
her dimples 
her body
her stretch marks
her touch 
    her touching my innocence
    With nowhere to go
With no one to love 
I live with imaginary paintings
among imaginary feelings
I live in imaginary spaces
among imaginary faces

Did you call to find out if I was in my right mind 
or not?
    Did you knock?
On 
a 
door
locked 
    Did you throw away the letters?
    from left to right, which read -
I am not ready
    from right to left I read -
ready not
Am I?

  • green sneakers 

    Crossing paths with strangers
Avoiding their glances
Always looking at their shoes
Never at their faces, little Miss scaredy-cat is actually afraid
Never missed a thing—thought she’d die defeated 
If she passed you by.

    That must have been the universe finally breathing out
after holding its breath for six months
So that you know:
The clocks are ticking again, and the snow is already melting
still cold
happy wrinkles buried in my babushka scarf 
Your feet are wet. There was a joke somewhere, but not now!
Now I look nice, don’t I?
    That wasn’t my voice calling your name; it must have been my guardian angel.

  • The things humans want

    Long goodbyes in the hallways. Someone to pick you up at the airport/train station. A best friend you can fuck without a condom. Ferritin – 307ng/ml. Watching a movie without checking your phone. The discipline of reading every day for an hour. Someone to make you coffee without asking. Lying in `savasana without twitching your left leg. A long oversized coat which feels like a hug, preferably black. I should have said something before getting into that cab. He cries when I cry, yk. Anything would have sufficed. Anyway, a nice box to solve my Christmas ornaments storage crisis. Someone to call you a witch, no, not someone, him. To write without believing you suck. To be ok with the fact that you might suck. To do it nevertheless. Someone so patient and so so kind that it’d make the absence almost ok. Someone who comes back.

    To cook for two and set the table for two; they do the dishes. To eat freshly picked walnuts from your Grandma’s tree, it’s late May, and your hands are all black from the iodine. A rainy weekend and nowhere to be. Unread books on the floor. To keep at least one plant alive for a whole year. A child to trust you with their secrets.

    Wearing a dress with deep pockets, deep pockets in general. Drinking tea in the kitchen with your best friend. A best friend. Weeping on the bathroom floor because they are gone. Being so comfortable around them that you start speaking in your native language without realizing it. Someone to fantasize about when you touch yourself. Loving, hating, and remembering the damage they’ve caused—it’s been 2 years, yet staying present. Someone to invade your “personal space” because they crave you, someone to crave, and it is preferably the same person. Someone to mirror your micro expressions, even when they try not to, especially when they try not to, but you notice. To always notice. Falling apart because you are convinced they’ve moved on. Long train rides somewhere far, far away. Not eating, not sleeping. To eat, to sleep. Not washing that one sweater because it smells like them; Not wearing it either, it could mess with the scent.

    Oranges, simply oranges. Thank God, oranges exist. Baking for the sake of baking. Never giving up. Finally giving up. Someone to buy your shampoo because they miss the smell of your hair, no, not someone, him. Sharing an appetizer, even though they could afford plenty, and they will end up paying for the dinner anyway. Someone to know how you take your drink. Accidental meetings in the supermarket, both thinking it happened exactly like in that show, and agreeing that it’s not like this with other people. 

  • Soap Bubbles

    You think I am ok; You think I am ok; don't you
I bet you think I'm just fine
The payback's like a boomerang; It remembers everything; It comes after everyone 
I didn't "Happy New Year" text myself back into your life - look at me growing up!

Too many espresso martinis
A glass of vodka half empty; I bet yours is always half full; I think it's the patriarchy or my desire
to pull a Sylvia Plath 
I am joking, just joking, my oven is electric 
    The floor’s wet; my chest split open 
Why the chest? Unspecified! 
Everybody knows the grief’s in the hips, duh
    It's the perfect lie:
Too much pressure 
Too much to want
Too much to need
Not enough willingness to try (sad music playing in the background)

You wouldn't show mercy, nor would you knock on my door some time in the far far ahead, 
after a protracted period of doing all the things you wanted to do with your life - eyelashes heavy, 
deep breaths on my couch (except, I do not own a couch)

On the floor, yes, ok, on the floor - It's the perfect description of hitting rock bottom, but give it another six months
I dare you, or is this a promise?
    The payback’s never too late nor too early; It remembers everything; It comes after everyone
Kneeling in the middle of the room, making you feel cool 
Do you want me to stop? Or, would you want me to join? Skilful mastery of performing for two - I can take care of us both.
    Pretty little moments:
Unbiased trivia for hoes or never looking back in the name of dodging THE bullet? 
Stalker alert or rolling our boulder up the hill? 

Intense, you say

As in: I’d die tomorrow if I could. I actually tried a couple of times. Some time between August and June. Everybody knows the second year’s always harder than year one. Why? Undefined! 

Or, perhaps

As in: crazy pathetic I kinda hate your guts now. Everybody knows it's terribly romantic to die from a broken heart.

    The floor’s wet; my chest split open

    Kneeling in the middle of the room, making me feel - love tastes like Nivea body soap for men and capitulation…bubbles, bubbles everywhere