i want to compose a poem with words so deep that send gentle frozen fingertips gliding across the line of your spinal cord.
you felt it right? what words can do,
who words can be, why they exist.
but a poem is more than just syntax, or knick-knacks or wordplay and clever lack in prose, more than just a sublime backlash
in brick cracks of a hidden message carved in crevices where blank white meets pitch black.
what happens when an unstoppable heart meets an immovable mind?
when you love someone that can't love you back you know you have to move on
but do you know it's not as easy?
physics taught me that what goes up must come down
but i see you,
and angel wings burst forth and i'm soaring through the clouds of imagination, of ecstasy, circling and ascending with brilliant grace yet my feet are solidly planted to earth.
i didn't know what "if you love something, let it go" meant until i was sitting with my cheek smashed up against the cold metal of my desk staring blankly at the chalkboard until my teacher says, "love is possessive." here i was thinking i was doing you the favor of not being annoying but i was selfish, and if i love you, i can't be obsessive.
that's when i heard the nails on the chalkboard.
but rather than the nails and chalk and board,
it was feelings and thoughts and words of the past breaking through to the present. i perked my head up and felt it; the coldest fingertip gliding smoothly up my back.
my worst fear is not that you see me and see nothing,
my worst fear is that when you see nothing you see me and i will never know.
tic-tac-toe, for the third time in a row
i'm hugging you tightly against my chest, hoping for the "best"
and no test of endurance shows how crestfallen i've been unless you confess that your love is above mine,
then yes, more or less, i'm clinging out rest to false hope and blatant lies.
seventeen years and three wasted loving you,
making mistakes all leading to the same truth.
my body trembles at the fat that i embody your definition of the natural destruction of order; when people take mask tape and scrawl FAGGOT in crude red lettering and tape it to my forehead like i haven't felt the adhesive fill the pores of my wrinkled lines before. in every religion, i am condemned but no one sees that my punishment is already loneliness, carved by a knife long ago on the bottom of my patched heart. you say i will burn in the lake of fire but that happens every day i see him talk to her and smile and for a while i was jealous but not by eight miles will i ever think i'm over you and surely there were piles of deconstructed words in my throat and mercy in my cries but you turned a deaf ear and kept riding your horse high.
because you said you cared, you didn't.
because you said you loved me, but you didn't.
when an unstoppable heart meets an immovable mind,
you get love.