Poetry
A gallery of my visual poems as well as my written work.
Visual Poetry
Written Poetry
i fall in love with every person i meet
the apple of their cheeks
where pen ink stains their hand
it’s fleeting love
bold and harsh
i picture our lives together
the first time our hands touch
delicate kisses in dark cars
i see the walls of their rooms
which mug they favour
they are strangers
but they live so vibrantly in my head
my hearts yearns so deeply
and breaks as they walk by
our future evades us, our shared kisses
shared touches, gone so quick
never given the chance to live
i line my toes with where their heels touched
and i grieve for the fleeting moment i loved them
when winter comes
i will mourn my past lovers
lovers i have yet to meet
lovers i won’t meet
i will trace the lines they drew
in ink and blood
i will press wax to my nails
seal away the touch of their lips
i’ll hear their words
through the flicker of candlelight
feel their fingers
through the cloth of my shirt
for now
i will fall in love with strangers
random people on the street
fleeting infatuation
love with no emotion
no pain
i will mourn the love i have never felt
i feel like curling up
in the small spaces on my house
the crevices in between couches
beneath kitchen chairs
i want to contort myself into odd shapes
press my knees to my chest
curl up small enough to fit in the crevices
maybe i’ll find peace there
maybe i misplaced my happiness
and it slipped behind the sofa
or in the cracks,
mixed in with the loose change
i hope to stumble across it soon
as i watch him
his eyelids lower
his breath is muted
there’s no vacancy for me
within him
he has not been taught how to love
or how to cherish
his skin is numb
he’s cold
i can’t teach him to love
I’ll make pinky promises with the ghosts in my walls. knock my ankles together. kiss the tender bruise on my hipbone. this is what growing up is. healing old scars and making friends with the dead. we will play tik tak toe on my belly, but no one seems to win anymore. i'm no longer curious about hills. i feel no urge to roll down them. to wipe at grass stains on my elbows and knees. or pick at twigs and leaves in my hair. they are simply hills. i scratch at my wrists now, and wait for the evening. i crave thrill. yearning is the only thing i seem to remember.
i fear longing is all i'll ever know. i'm not sure if i was ever built to receive love, i was only built to give it. i fear what i don't know, but i fear what i do know. i fear myself, i fear for myself. i fear for my mother, for my father. my spine aches with fear. i fear that the sadness will never give way. i fear adolescence evades me with each passing breathe. i fear for my future. i fear the things i don't know. i fear the things i do know. i fear that fear is the only thing i'll ever become. i fear that fear is the only thing i'll ever truly know. i fear i’ll be stifled by ambition, and that nothing will become of me. i fear freedom and the vastness of choice. i'm paralyzed with possibility, with opportunity. i am a prophet and i'm drunk on the thought of every decision that precedes me. i fear i am insatiable. nothing i ever make will satisfy me. i have centuries old guilt built into me. god fears me, men want me, but i no longer trust myself. what will become of me, other than fear.