It’s easy to get lost in the underworld, In the styles of darkness and bone. It’s easy to immerse yourself in its magic, Forgetting the place you called home.
It’s easy to feel drawn to a different path, Coaxed to a life not your own. It’s easy to want to validate your wrath, Even if it comes with a tombstone.
It’s easy, so easy, to dig yourself deep In the pits that Hell can provide. But believe me, to truly be free, You must accept what lies inside.
My grandmother always told me She loved me But I never listened. And now that she’s dead, I can never be forgiven.
I wonder how she thought of me, I wonder how she felt, I wonder was she lonely, Or content in her hell.
For she treated my mother like A child of another, Had her beaten apart by her own older brother, Made her quit her job for a stranger’s wedding, Attacked her character in every setting.
She would cause a scene at every family event, My grandpa would sit in silent discontent, For his dog was his only companion in that house, His wife a manic abusive excuse of a spouse.
My few memories of her when she would still come around, Are stained with hiccuped tears between higher decibels of sound. She yelled at me that one time when I was six, I’d had an accident in my bed, (we had a trash bag sheet fix).
That was mother’s final straw, she snapped and told her not to come back. Until she could understand why she couldn’t treat me like that. And years would pass by, and she would never return, Not a muttered apology, not an ounce of concern.
Much later we would visit on a yearly rendezvous, As she got older and had less things that she could do. But still she told me she loved me, And yet still I never listened. We were strangers then familial ties imprisoned.
And it’s funny because she was never kind, So you’ll have to forgive me when I say that I lied. Not about the stories, no those are all true, But about the part where she said “I love you.”
I’d wondered if that feeling would have been steadying, But reading it now, My grandma never told me anything.
I guess I’m out of practice, But conversation flowed so easy I got to know another one Without worrying if he even sees me.
He’s ambiguous with gender Critical in his thoughts He has relationship experience But emotional connection’s what he sought.
He likes Southern food Though I can’t agree. He enjoys playing games In good company.
He drove me up an hour To drive back the same alone We sang show-tunes together Getting lost in the airport zone.
I got his text when I landed Before I could make his contact, Now I’m sitting here awake Wondering where do we go from that?
Sitting in a vc At 9am, We’re braining a storm While wracking our heads.
A lyric, A sonnet, A bunch of regrets; That string of words That’ll make them mesh.
You’ve got tidbits of concepts Such cruel irony, Attempting a poem while Sitting in a vc.
From transcribing to hyperbolizing, There’s options galore; Keep the similes in line, Take the routine thesaurus tour.
Sift phrases from the trash, Treasure is what you see, Crafting a poem while Sitting in a vc.
Toss it all on paper, Reel them from above; Catch the dreams you elucidate And gather them with love.
Then put it all together And an idea has come to be: You’ve now written a poem while Sitting in a vc.
I miss the days of easy intimacy When I could step out of class and right into an embrace, When lunchtimes could be spent with an easy arm over my shoulder, When free moments came with hair ruffles And cuddle puddles atop beanbags. Giggles in the air, shuffling to get comfortable, until The rest. I miss that tranquility of intimacy. When a hand would trace slow circles on my knee, When fingers would aimlessly twirl their way through my hair, When my head would rise and fall to the breathes on someone’s chest, When I could close my eyes And rest.
The pin dropped.
“HOW COULD YOU?!” Her arms flew in the air, slamming the door behind them as she took menacing steps toward him across the tiled floor.
“I didn’t know!” Hands held in surrender as he hid his face from her glare.
“How could you not know!” She seethed under her breath, suddenly remembering they weren’t the only ones in the building.
Her eyes held a fire he had only ever seen in the courtroom, right before she drove her opponent into the ground. He wasn’t keen on what they held in store for him.
“I thought you already told everyone…” he recalled their last conversation and came to the sudden realization…
”You made me THINK you told everyone! You LIED TO ME!” He cried, hurt that she hadn’t trusted him to know.
“I didn’t lie!” she interjected, shushing him under the fluorescent hanglights. “You misinterpreted my words.”
“And you didn’t correct me!”
She scoffed. “Because it’s none of your business.” Her eyes narrowed at his. “You blabbered to the WHOLE DEPARTMENT! And you wonder why I didn’t tell you the truth. You’re just a rookie sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. You should go back to your desk. Or better yet, pack what little is on it and go home.” She sneered, dipping her words with malice. From the look on his face, she could tell she hit the mark. She smirked, though no amount of pain she inflicted on him would make up for the embarrassment he had caused her.
“I’m sorry okay?” He pleaded, looking genuinely remorseful. “But how was I supposed to know I was even keeping a secret if you wouldn’t tell me?!
“You’re supposed to know, you idiot!”
“IM SUPPOSED TO KNOW?!”
“YEAH BY USING YOUR FUCKING BRAIN!”
His face hardened as he met her head on for the first time. “You can blame me for many things, but I won’t be your scapegoat on this. And being an actual lawyer doesn’t mean you get to treat me like garbage! I clock more hours than you on any given day!“
“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re a paralegal,” she hissed.
“Yeah,” he concedes before glaring at her. “And you, a bitch.”
Slap!
What is there to say About us? Nothing,
Except for the days of shared earbuds and music and laughs In all those mornings, or even in class,
Or the time we ran together through the rain, You held my glasses in your sweater as I embraced the pain Of being blind Because I didn’t think that you’d ever leave me behind.
Or when you held me close and I wished you’d never let go Every one of my feelings being tossed to and fro.
Remember we watched the sun rise on the beach just the two of us on the shore? With only a box of Cheez-itz and a towel to share Your hair blowing out in the cool summer air. As we played tic-tac-toe in the warming sand. As we did everything but hold each other’s hand.
It’s those times I miss When we snuck glances between episodes of umbrella academy. As we laid in your bed And you cuddled close to me.
We never labeled it I never thought we’d have to But it’s those times I remember When I want to surrender Because you look at me now like I’m just a friend Like nothing happened Because technically It never did
So what’s there to say About us? Nothing
So I guess this is Farewell, my almost lover
If it’s what you say It must be true, So go on, feel free, Say all the things that you want to. I’ll just sit here, Eyes open but mouth sewn and zipped, Because god forbid I call you out on your shit.
If I utter a single word to refute, Press unmute, Dare to look you in the eye, I’m met with uproar— Or worse, dead silence. Like “fuck, they ruined the goddamn party again, Would’ve been fun if they’d stayed quiet.”
You didn’t notice the balloons wheezing out their air Long before I stepped into the room. You didn’t notice because you didn’t care, because you didn’t want to.
You didn’t notice
the conversation
turn double-edged,
Slicing through
each bubble of speech.
You didn’t notice
because it’s not your moral pledge,
You didn’t notice because
People agreed.
But just because it sounds like everyone’s laughing doesn’t mean the joke was funny. Just as saying “I love you” doesn’t mean that you love me.
I shouldn’t have to recount back the times you stepped the line, You should know, You should remember, Every time that you crossed mine.
And it hurts, it does And it’s such a shame, Because I respected you, Was it foolish I expected the same?
I am made entirely of flaws, Stitched together by good intentions. I come from a land with no laws, Different forms in all my reflections.
I traverse an invisible line, Between the morally right and wrongs. I dance, my feet in time, Bending to the death-marching songs.
You know me by many names, For I drop pseudonyms like plagues. Some call my work “games,” Because I like to keep the rules vague.
Simply know that if we’ve met, You’d know it well as your fingers. And if we haven’t yet, You will when your mortality lingers.
