Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Chapter 5

* I hate poems about break ups *

July 20th:
The plot is thickening, like
my blood pumping in my veins, my
heart under siege. Milky flags fly up like 
clouds in my blue eyes that begin to 
overcast a 99% chance of scattered
showers. Have you looked outside,
? (I can hear them ask) It’s beautiful
But I can
barely see through these
clouds of gray.

I’ve sewn the seeds, reaped
for four months, now these
weeds have uprooted out of
nowhere, it seems.
Today I say what I’ve always
said, and thought I would always
say, but hours of silence I
have received.

Kevin, we need to talk

I swallow back vomit and the
thousand tears I thought
we’d share.

March 12th:
Fingers interlocked, we
skip out during intermission
and speed home. I smile at the
sad smile in your eyes. Something
I figured I’d never be
able to fix, not that I
even wanted to. Some how
in the silence,
our lips lock for the first
time. Your eyes, brilliant brown,
avoid mine. I wonder why.
I notice your smile,
half-hearted, beautiful, the best.
I make a goal right there,
to make your hate of everything

That night I change my relationship
status on Facebook.

March 16th:
Celebrating for the 20th
time, the day I came out
of my mother, crying, coated in
They say birth is a beautiful thing.

Those brown eyes, engaged
in their own world,
stare right through mine.
You follow the path to
my soul with such precision;
no one’s ever made it there before.
And you hand to me a home-made 
crafted cake, with a painted face
of my favorite band. Let’s face it, 
everyone knows you
can’t bake, but you
perfected it.

The days roll on, as
does our feelings. Our friends
have become friends, somehow, 
someway. By chance? By Fate? By 
God? My heart wants to rush
to say those forbidden words,
but as a hopeless romantic,
I know better. And you lecture me:
when the time is right, we will know.
We’ve slipped so many times on these 
slopes. Sometimes I just want to slide 
into the uncharted depths below to the 
center of your heart, and let
fate pull me down.
April 12th:
I’ve come to respect the little
things in life: the bugs, the trees, the
wind, the days.
Happy one month.

Your brown eyes, brilliant, always
searching for meaning, I have
fallen in love with.
The way you write and word
everything with your witty remarks,
I love that. Your progressing novel.
It’s the way you say my
name, and smile when I kiss you.
It’s the way you grin when
you speak out of the side of your
mouth. I love that.
I want to say it. I am ready to say it.

Exams. We both are scared.
You have no reason to be. You’re 

May 12th:
Happy Two Months, I love you.

Enjoying summer with you, everyday it 
seems. In a couple of weeks I
am taking summer classes at Kent.
My favorite time of day is
when you and I sit out
on your porch and read. Just read.
I love sneaking peaks over there,
you in your chair, stretched back,
your eyes pondering the pages, painting
profound pictures in your brilliant mind.
You are quite the artist, dear.
I love your family. Your brother. Your 
mother and father. We dance out under
the moonlight with our lack of
rhythm. You call me white. (You can
say that again.)

You take me to the lake in your 
neighborhood. I think it’s going to be 
some poetic place full of pretty scenery.
I stare at feces of geese floating on
murky water.

We talk about the future. You 
say your if’s, and I say my when’s.
I know what my heart wants.

June 12th:
Happy Three Months, darling,
I love you. So much.

 July 4th:
You seem so happy. Always smiling
with that disarming charm of yours.
We sit out in your half brothers back 
yard, watching the neighborhood
ignited in patterns and colors
from the house across the street.
We all sit in a circle, on those white, 
hard plastic chairs, sitting around a well-
lit fire. Staring up into the sky, watching 
the neighbors, as you guys do every 
year. You are holding my arm,
smiling. I’ve never seen you so happy.
In the company of your family, of your
lover. I smile because you are smiling.

July 12th:
You invite me over. I give you
that hardcover copy of the Jonas 
Brothers On Tour since you are
so obsessed with them.
I take you out, despite you
begging me not to.

You give me a mint.

Happy Four Months, babe, I love you.

July 19th:
Today is the first time
you get mad at me. I talk about how
I am sad to watch Borders go,
you say that I am too afraid of change
and “it’s not you, it’s me.

Two attempts in, I’m
questioning your motives. Today
you are someone I’ve never
met before. What’s your name?
Attempt three.

My eyes are sleepy, my heart
heavy. I love you.

Talk to you tomorrow. (A cold chill
runs down my spine).

That night I choke back the
imagination of my mind
in liquid chapters. My eyes tell
the story through the storms
of gray, suffocating the blue.

July 20th:

Good morning, I love you.

The morning is new, the heat 
unbearable. Beautiful blue skies,
puffy white clouds, I
smile waiting for your reply.

Hours later. Babe?
A plague of some sort begins to
spread through my blood
into my heart, poisoning
my perception. I can hear
the clock.

The story unfolds in the deafening
silence. Chapter after chapter,
scene by scene. I’m sipping on coffee,
trembling over thoughts that tear
through my heart.
Three hours.
This silence speaks for itself:
chapter 1
chapter 2
chapter 3
chapter 4
chapter 5

Kevin, we need to talk

That night I sit in chills, while
people complain about the heat.
Silence. Darkness. Damnation.

Kevin Pees went from being in a 
relationship, to single.



I run into you on campus. Your 
complexion is godly, you smile, bringing
a thousand tears to my eyes. Those 
brown crystal bulbs still the same.
The gods call it paradise
I call it paradise lost

1 comment:

  1. So I read this before but then I saw that you didn't have any comments and I think this needs some. So even though I've told you a million times before: YOU'RE A FREAKING BRILLIANT WRITER AND I LOVE EVERYTHING THAT COMES OUT OF THE END OF YOUR PEN AND I LOVE YOU AND YOU ARE SUCH AN AWESOME PERSON!!!