I wonder
If you’ll love me
When I’m dead.
I know death is ugly
In a physical sense
But I always imagined
That as your flesh
Returns to the earth
All the pretty things
All the beautiful bits
That were buried
Deep down
And scattered about…
I always thought
That surely
They leak out
Seep into the mud…
Make sweet flowers bud
You love flowers
Yeah.
I bet
You’ll love me
When I’m dead.
-Elle
#Poetryfromthenotpoet
Demons fly around your skull
Whispering evil things
You’re worthless.
You don’t belong here.
You fight them valiantly
With prayers and kind thoughts
But they’re relentless
They tell you crazy lies
You know you shouldn’t believe
But they never tire
They never stop
They smell your tiniest weakness
A little crack in your exterior,
They dig in
And rot your insides
Like a cavity.
No dentist, no doctor
Can fix this
Their poison is sticky and foul
It mutates your soul
You’re on the edge
Of an infinite black hole
Careful, Love
Careful.
-Elle
#Poetryfromthenotpoet
My legs feel thick and heavy
The weight of you
On my mind
Makes my muscles sluggish
And my feet tired
Should it be this way?
Maybe.
Maybe for me.
See,
I’m a bad person
I’m meant to suffer
And loving you
Does quite a good job.
-Elle
#Poetryfromthenotpoet
#Lieswetellourselves
In my daydreams
I imagine being seen.
Really seen.
The raw and vulnerable kind of seen.
I wonder if they actually exist…
Souls cut from the same cloth
Do the tiny sheared fibers reunite
And form an image that neither could see alone?
It’s lovely…
Toying with the idea in my mind
But do I want that kind of clarity?
Do I need it?
Is it deserved?
In my daydreams
I press my fingertips to yours
One by one
You smell like safety
You sound like home.
When I look into your eyes
I see me…
The way you see me
And I trust it
There’s no logic.
I see me, the way you see me
It’s foreign and familiar
More terrifying than comforting
I want to go back
But I can’t
I’ve seen my soul in you
It cannot be unseen
Is this a blessing?
I’m not so sure.
-Elle
#Poetryfromthenotpoet
You breathe so slowly
In the low light
Of our bedroom at night.
The shadows cast over your features…
They show me a secret version of you
Your sleep is not hard or fitful
The tension and stress from your day
Has melted away
Your sleep is soft.
It’s warm.
But then comes a noise – A car horn. A dog bark.
It disturbs the calm – makes you stir
And suddenly everything seems so…
Delicate.
This moment
This life
I’m afraid I’ll break it
Just by being awake.
I inch my way under the covers
And closer to you
You’re such a giver.
Perhaps you could share
Just a tiny piece
Of your sleep peace
With me.
-Elle
#Poetryfromthenotpoet
I covered you with flowers in my mind
Lovie, I went back in time
To harvest the essence of you.
To celebrate you
To lift you up
When you needed higher ground
I kissed your cheeks
Precious one,
I played our favorite songs
And we sang them loud
‘Cause that’s the only way to do it
That’s what you always said
Loud and Proud
…Oh, and we danced
And we never stopped
We were happy
We were vibrant
We were alive
And that’s where I left us
Back in time
On an infinite loop
Covered in flowers
Feet off the ground
Singing
And dancing
And free
-Elle
#Poetryfromthenotpoet
Sweet face
That’s what you used to call me
When we’d walk down those tired sidewalks
Of Rainy Avenue
Cracks in the cement
Below my sandaled feet
Toe snatchers.
That’s what you called those divots and pot holes
Obstacles we playfully and confidently avoided
You had a special name for everything
Even Rainy Avenue
Your little hypocrite boulevard
We never did see it rain
On Rainy Avenue
Dark clouds, sure
Lightning shows and thunder parades
Sometimes you could even smell it in the air
… the rain.
But not a single drop ever fell
Not on us
Not on Rainy Avenue.
-Elle
#Poetryfromthenotpoet
This is nothing I haven’t seen.
Another back
Moving away from me.
I wonder how it feels
To do the leaving
To be the heartbreaker.
The other side of the coin
So foreign to me.
This side though…
I’m a decorated veteran.
Each time I’ve learned
Each time I’ve grown
But there’s something broken in me
I think.
There must be.
This is the role,
It’s destined for me.
The abandoned
The forgotten
The temporary.
I did not audition
But I play it well.
I fantasize
Sometimes
About trading places
With someone else
Living the life
Of someone else
But who would do that?
Who would
Who could…
Offer a stranger
A place in hell?
-Elle
#Poetryfromthenotpoet
I like this title because the way it’s used in the actual poem is sad, but the word itself means not meant to last. So if you ever feel like you’re temporary or replaceable, remind yourself that those feelings are temporary. #rollercoaster (have I mentioned I hate those things?)
So I’ve been finishing off most of my poems with #poetryfromthenotpoet. I started doing it as a disclaimer because I know next to nothing about poetry. I don’t read it. I don’t know the various types. I don’t know any rules. I don’t pretend to think I write it well. I just enjoy it. I don’t want to learn the rules. I’ve had to do that… study a bit… when it comes to writing novels, and that’s a good thing. It’s made me a better writer, a better novelist. But I don’t want to be a good poet. I just know that sometimes I fill up with words and I like to pour them out. I’m not interested in learning how to spill a full glass of water in an organized fashion. Structure free feels nice sometimes, don’t you think?
🙂
-Elle
For my deep feelers
Empaths.
For everyone with minds so full
And mouths sewn shut
Such a heavy weight
Such a desire to connect
Such resistance.
People misunderstand you
Antisocial, they say
Boring, they think
It’s laughable, really
Your voice is quiet
But your soul is loud
Your demeanor is soft
But your heart is fierce
You are worth patience.
My love.
You have something unique to give
So much time observing
So much time listening
Understanding leaks from your pores
Compassion flows through your veins
You get people
You learn them slowly.
You learn them deeply.
The ones who notice you
Who engage you…
What a treat for you both
What a rarity.
The ones who don’t
Whether unkind, or simply oblivious
You learn from them.
Think of it as a gift
You take a lesson on humanity from them
They take nothing from you.
-Elle
P.S. Wavered on that last line so much because when people fail to notice you, when you aren’t given the time of day, when you feel invisible… that hurts and absolutely CAN take something from you. An overactive anxious mind can dwell on something like that -literally- for years, so I definitely don’t mean to diminish that. I just decided to write that the way I want it to be, and the way it ought to be. Because really, it’s something we shouldn’t give two flying shits about 😉
#Poetryfromthenotpoet
