you don't get it
I’ve written two good poems in all my life and a loooot of shit.
people have auras you know? yes they do and yours was so big
and loud I could hear it even when your footsteps faded with a thump thump, I could
hear it through the telephone hello darling dearest your voice so distinct so everythingIeverwanted and no
we are not speaking you and I and yes I still want to hear every syllable because
the way you say every-day nonsense words was the way you whispered in my ear ‘I love you’ yes the same and separate and all you, so deliciously nonsensically
you and my heart almost imploded no - exploded no - something larger and louder like how I feel you across the distance how your presence
feels like hound’s teeth on the back of my neck with no pain like a lightning bolt in a field of wildflowers caught
instantaneously on fire to the farthest dying clump of weeds that’s how I feel your
thud thud heartbeat thump thump footsteps thoughts thoughts mind and
if you don’t mind me asking can you come a little closer darling I am
missing you quite heavily let’s forget about auras I am not content with distance anymore I want you here, immediate
lay nudes at my gravestone, not flowers. flowers will wither away, but a bomb ass booty is forever
“I guess you just don’t understand me no matter how fondly I think of you.”
old sport
old sport
old sport
old sport
old sport
old sport
old
sporta poem by jay gatsby
give birth to the roof, feed the roof, nurture the roof,
raise the roof
“As a child I never heard one woman say to me, “I love my body.” Not my mother, my elder sister, my best friend. No one woman has ever said, “I am so proud of my body.” So I make sure to say it to Mia, because a positive physical outlook has to start at an early age.”
