i wish i knew how to say what i wanted without waxing poetic
i look at you
the chalant hands and a body
that does not wait, does not long for much
you are unsure but content and swift
you don't have a tight grip on anything except yourself
i feel like i'm everything you're not
an unpicked berry waiting for the farmer
the pupl of a poetic yet to write anything great
and that's not to shut myself down
it's a spring break from narcissus
i'm afraid i'm everything you can't have
i eon't write the list because you already know it
too unstable to hold my own weight
let alone your featherfooted antique volumes.
you remind me
I don't care what you think of me
I'm the root of my own apple tree, fuck the farmer
i'm a smaller, stronger redux of desire
I am a want without a bottom
hungry, open container walking down your avenue
i want
i want you to meet my other faces and see how they run around this tiny house
i want you to listen to the things i say and listen to the world with me when i'm speechless
i want you to see the galaxies through this carefree body
i want every sentence you've ever conceived
i want you to lead me to the pond and waterboard me in it
like John did
i want to tell you about my sodalite and how i meandered into his primrose garden
i want you to ask aboutall of my sequin
watch them simmer in the summer sun
i want you to put me on
i want you to last a couple fays and then burn yourself out
no, i want you to want me for a good while
an era
we will form our own dynamics
new sledgehammers to kill each other's with
our own biggest haters, our own paparazzi
famous between all our hallucinations
every complexity
every miniscule emotion
i'm enraptured and i want it
drop you like a martini glass, scoop you up with my palms, and give you back together with my saliva
indulge in the need to scream at someone
chase butterflies in sunflower patches
buy shit we can't afford
you'll earn a shelf on my bookshelf all to yourself
you'll sit down, have a drink, get high
reach a hand and pull us off the shelf
complain of my woodworking
and hold that other, free hand out with your heart nowhere near it
it will be enough for me
hearts are for drawing on my eyes, not for devouring
reluctance
i hate hesitating
i hate that i tread so careful
i don't know you well but
i trust you with all my hands, my finest instruments
i want you to trust me with yours, too.
i don't need sugarcoating, lipgloss
hand me my lockipck and ill start on your mind
if i'm lucky
ill uncover the secret, third thing
but i dont need it from you
kick the truth out of me; that, i want more than anything
kick me back and lean just far enough, just quick enough
to catch me.
YOU ARE READING
An Enigma Is Too Much For A Cat To Eat
Poetrypoetry from the raw heart of a teenage girl. I wrote this poetry collection throughout my junior year of high school, when so much change was underneath the sun's aura. In and out of depression, in and out of the psych ward, I survived the first ha...
