emotion

Tipping Point

Folder: 
2017

I have stayed up all night a painter

for the sake of covering these walls

with smoother shapes than my flight risk fear,

with things I will probably regret.

 

I’ve got questions I shouldn’t ask,

colors I shouldn’t spill

but when you are around you cut the legs off all my chairs

and the turquoise is dangerously close to tipping.

 

I’ve got questions I shouldn’t ask,

I will turn them into answers when I lie next to you,

I will leave the lavender in every corner

so you know I’m okay.

 

I’ve got questions I shouldn’t ask

so I bite them down minute by minute

and splash a bit of royal blue on your doorstep,

hope you find it meaning more than an accident.

 

It’s overdue,

mixing the fire with the ice,

we can make sure there are too many colors on this floor to count

We both get home with tangled hearts and splatters on our shoulders,

covered like we don’t mean to cry.

 

I’ve got sentences I shouldn’t mean,

I brush silver on the windowsill,

I sit high and pretty and sunk and flawed.

 

I’ve got sentences I shouldn’t mean

but I would rather mean too much than nothing,

sitting here on edge

with the sunset orange three quarters full and

threatening to overflow onto your lips.

 

I’ve got questions I shouldn’t ask,

colors I shouldn’t spill

but here with you I am climbing to the tipping point.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 3/11/17

Gutter

Folder: 
2017

In my head my touch is hitting the best brakes on your skin.

This is a stream of consciousness and I am so far below the gutter,

I’ve decided

maybe I kind of like it down here.

 

In my head we are tripping down the steps,

neither of us can dance fast enough

when we’re choking on these chemicals,

better than any waterfall and just as beautiful

because they mean I’ve learned to trust you.

 

In my head we are skimming, skipping sections,

the ones that don’t matter,

skipping a beat,

holding tight to all the best parts,

this desperate is the worst tornado I’ve ever been in

but I don’t feel it, I am right in the middle of the perfect.

 

I make up stories, something, nothing, maybe,

your touch has turned my response from a shy to a shiver,

please tell me you need it too.

 

I can’t feel the solid ground,

there is too much more I want in this moment to care about standing still,

in my head my fingers are pressing all the right buttons.

 

You can always get the juices flowing

a brush of your heat and words hit paper and

I hit the wall at the speed of sound,

you can draw out both the perfect pain and the pen.

 

This is how the mighty fall

soaked like the rain,

this is how the glory wavers

seeping from our souls,

I don’t need the sweet

when your sour is see-through and I love every minute.

 

This is a stream of consciousness and I am so far below the gutter,

I’ve decided

maybe I kind of like it down here.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 3/11/17

People I Shouldn't Be Missing

Folder: 
2017

I double the weight of all your words

and wrap them up in perfect,

I’m notorious for seeing dawn in sunsets

and spending all the weak nights in counterfeit light.

 

There are so many people I shouldn’t be missing

but still I keep saving all the sentences

this ache makes me feel like starting over

letting go, drowning a little every day.

 

I would keep every risk, every sin spilled out

if that’s what you said you wanted,

but I am too close to the edge here

I will bury it all in treasure and stop thinking.

 

There are so many people I shouldn’t be missing

pinned to the poison walls of this brain,

the files keep growing and as always

I can never throw anything away.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 3/5/17

View tallsquirrelgirl's Full Portfolio

Heaven

Folder: 
2017

Things would be easier if there was a rhyme,

or some way to frame this with a stained-glass window.

 

I don’t choose how I keep falling for someone else

but I choose every minute to keep it from you.

 

Find me in loyal but I’ll never get to heaven,

you’ve scraped all the smooth sailing from my wake,

the waves crash under this boat till we’re soaked.

 

Find me in quiet but I’ll never get to heaven,

every day I choose this war and this bloodshed

instead of falling back into the sleep and simplicity I used to know.

 

Things would be easier if there was some way to win

but I’m on the path to demolition

I still hold a needle to my wrist every time you’re around,

waiting for a rush and a comfort so pure I’m afraid it will break all the barriers,

or some kind of burn in my blood when you’re leaving again,

when someone else’s lifeline lives behind your eyes.

Heartbreak or pure exhilaration…

I never know what will make me push in the tip.

 

Find me in truth but I’ll never get to heaven,

I keep choosing these blue eyes with sharp edges

that you hold close to mine too long.

Don’t worry

I wouldn’t want them to be gentle,

I need you to love the words you throw jagged

like the hellfire in our veins

like the holes we won’t be able to sew closed in each other’s chests.

Don’t ever apologize for feeling.

 

Find me in lonely but I’ll never get to heaven,

I keep choosing this heart.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 2/27/17

More

Folder: 
2017

How could you ever know

if I never let this love out?

You’re too busy trying to

cut yourself into slivers

give everyone a piece

till there’s nothing left to build your own bones.

 

My mind is a canyon.

I spend too much time at the bottom,

your name comes up there a lot.

I know I need to be more for you,

quieter, louder,

more precise,

more someone to save

and someone to be saved,

more willing to give you my flaws in silver wrapping.

I want to be more

but these pieces might just be a start.

 

I feel how full this room pretends to be without you

when you leave even for a minute

I feel how empty I can taste my regrets

and tears that haven’t fallen shouldn’t fall.

 

I wish everyone I loved remembered the same moments I do,

knew which things they said once are still stuck on a loop in my head.

That would tell them so much more about me than my halfhearted attempts to articulate it.

 

I wish I knew what you remembered,

what do you want me to say like a broken record?

 

You mean more to me than my favorite mismatched socks.

 

You shouldn’t need to chase down the one you call a friend- there are so many humans with you if you just turn around.

 

I know what you mean.

 

It’s a late Tuesday night, come on an adventure with me.

 

Don’t be afraid of the monsters in your mouth

or the lies living under your tongue.

 

We should do this more often,

but not too much

or it will lose its magic.

 

Overcome.

 

Everything might not be okay, but something will.

 

My lonely, my introvert does not mind when you’re around.

 

This is not enough time to spend with you.

 

Wear those earrings more often.

 

You’re beautiful.

 

I don’t know what I want from you

but I like to think that I do.

 

I do know one thing:

I want to be more.

 

I wish I could spell all my memories out for you,

which of your words I wrap in gold,

but that would use up

all this ink I’m saving for when I eventually tell you.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 2/20/17

Tea Party (day 196)

Not another tea party,

tight smiles and sharp corners,

loneliness posing like closing doors on old friends

 

I’ll bring the champagne if it makes people talk

or when I want them to talk I’ll tear off the tablecloth

 

Day after day

they crawl to my gates

Not another apology,

I want you to detonate

not switch on with a purpose

 

The wind can tell you what I mean

Passing all the minefields,

stuck in a heartbeat,

drowned in silence

 

I don’t want another tea party,

tight smiles and sharp corners,

politely posing all my commands as a question

 

Please just walk in and

break all the china.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 2/8/17

Tea party

View tallsquirrelgirl's Full Portfolio

No, it's not narcissism to think I'm in love (day 195)

You have some kind of deadly charm,

this feels like a neverending dream

that must be why I can’t control you

and lately when I go to bed with a heart too heavy to carry

I consider it an accomplishment,

a full day of longing for you or dreaming of you

I still don’t know which is which.

 

You keep saying

thinking she’s in love makes you feel like a narcissist,

I can tell you with no hesitation

it’s not narcissism to think I’m in love

I’ve been falling up

and not because I believe in myself

but because I believe in you

and I believe in what you believe

even if it’s not me.

 

Turn your back on me and I feel like a masochist once more,

spill your secrets and I finally get it,

I feel like a narcissist,

you must love me enough to trust me

and why can’t that be all I want?

 

I sound the warning every time

but my kingdom still looks to you for the bleeding garnet sunrise,

everything standing on end.

 

This feels like a neverending dream

but I still can’t reach the finish line,

the part where I can’t smother this smile anymore

because you’re always around.

 

There is homesickness tangled in my hair,

I won’t pull it out because I want you to tell me it is beautiful,

I want it to fade or weave through because I belong when you’re here.

 

You keep saying

hoping for love makes you feel like a narcissist,

I can tell you with no hesitation

it’s not narcissism to think I’m in love.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 2/7/17

Garnet

View tallsquirrelgirl's Full Portfolio

Imagination (day 194)

You can fuck me up, you can fuck me down

You can feed my closed mouth to the ground

You can give me light or pitch black sidewalks

But you can’t take back all the lines I’ve crossed

 

You can tell me exactly what you want me to be

Put words in my mouth and make them a memory

You can take it all back and I won’t refuse

I’ll look at any mirror and still choose you

 

You can fuck me up, you can fuck me down

You can feed my closed mouth to the ground

You can give me light or pitch black sidewalks

But you can’t take back all the lines I’ve crossed

 

Holding back and holding out so I can’t face no

Should have started, ended, fell apart so long ago

Maybe is a halfway and it doesn’t need brave

But I need you to ask so we can be saved

 

You can fuck me up, you can fuck me down

You can feed my closed mouth to the ground

You can give me light or pitch black sidewalks

But you can’t take back all the lines I’ve crossed

 

You’ve built the reasons for this nocturnal mind

I know you can be a liar but you’re not this kind

So I scrape your smile against all I’ve ever been

Try to find fire with imagination and a pen

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 2/6/17

Imagination

View tallsquirrelgirl's Full Portfolio

silly little heartbeat

Folder: 
2017

seems like you could fix

my shaky handwriting

just by being able

to read me.

 

seems like you could make me

love the way

I can’t tell stories.

 

seems like you could make me

love the way

I’m hopeless more often than not.

 

seems like

no one would disapprove.

 

seems like all the

rain’s showered on you

but it’s okay

because the stars can dry

faster than the drops fall.

 

seems like you could fix

my laugh so

it never falls from the shelf again.

 

seems like I could

pay for anything

with what you’re worth.

 

seems like you could fix

my silly little heartbeat

the one that s-

s-

skips here

l-

like a

drum l-

line out of

rhythm.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 2/7/17