2:06 am - Sunday, Aug. 10, 2003
Poetry
My Poetry
A big part of me is the poetry that I write. I have a small pink book that I have been recording poetry into for years, and re-reading it is like going through a chronological emotional journey. No one has ever read my poetry - that’s not what it’s for. And it’s been a long time since I’ve written. For about a year now, the book has been closed, my inspiration rotting. I want to post my poems - all of them, in part, to preserve the pages that are starting to fade, and in part to recognize that writing poetry is a part of me that I’m not scared of. So here goes, starting with the most recent, and moving backwards through time….
1. I wrote this for Marcus. It is a complex web that describes the fine line between intimacy and vulnerability. Being so close to bliss, but so full of skeletons. This one means a lot to me. It’s called “Prince Charming”
You stun me, inside out.
You see me through chocolate windows,
a softer light.
I hide. Darkness kindles my
confidence.
We are joined,
the shudders tingle on my lips
Soft hair pushes between my fingers, clean.
I breath in your energy.
I am so
scared.
Please don’t leave. We are so close to
that moment.
Your breath is soft and regular as
you sleep
We are all so scarred, so full of pain.
Sleep it away.
We run, hands tightly locked,
we will find happiness,
the perfect moment.
I will love you.
I am only me,
but somehow, I know that you
understand.
2. Abstraction
This is the first poem that I wrote about Marcus. When we first met, I felt as though our relationship was in a delicate position. We were so close to being open, to finding vulnerability and softness, but I felt that it rested on his shoulders to open these doors. In all of my previous relationships, I never felt like I was really myself.. I was always the ‘perfect girlfriend’ instead. Marcus calls that girl Cheerleader Bri. I wanted to break free of her. This is what I wrote to describe that feeling.
Caged persona:
rattling the bars, and for a
shining moment,
I am me.
Come quickly and nurture me,
I will grow with your respect,
or wither under your poor judgement.
But alas, again, you do not turn your head
soon enough,
and I cement another
brick on my wall.
Oh god please let me out,
so that I can meet myself.
Will the real girl
stop dancing and face reality?
Keep your promises and bricks may fail.
Honestly yields a golden key,
and this girl, day by day,
will become more me.
Welcome,
just in time,
I hope you stay for a while.
3. Perfect is the name of my next poem. I wrote it about my OCD. My entire life, being sick with OCD has driven me to an unhealthy need for balance and perfection. My therapist at the time (who was SOOOO wonderful) said that I should write the word PERFECTION on a piece of paper, and then rip it up and throw it away. Going through therapy was painful for me - being forced to throw away my crutches, what I needed to survive. Perfection was my high. This is the story of my experience.
I threw my perfection in the dumpster today,
the way a mother might toss a way her child.
I was unsettled as I walked away.
‘I could still go back’
I thought,
‘no one would know’.
Yet I kept on walking,
further,
the possibility of redemption diminished.
My eyes flooded with hot tears.
What if one day,
somebody found it?
Old, rusted
a future thrown away,
my name etched onto it’s grace.
A ball and chain.
Free.
I am scared to walk,
scared to move,
scared to breath.
All alone.
I am
all
me.
4. I wrote this poem when my mom’s fiancée Keith left us after we found out that he was cheating on my mom. I was so hurt and felt abandoned and alone.
Go ahead.
We are better off without you.
You made my existence a monetary gain.
Three zeros and a dollar sign - I’m spent.
But hold my hand,
and I shall give love
and light.
Do you see?
I count money like calories.
Fat burning
interest earning?
I want out of your pathetic game.
5. I wrote this poem right after my graduation, when I was really struggling with my OCD. I had received a really expensive ring from my grandparents as a graduation wedding, and it was SO UGLY, I knew I would never wear it. My whole life was in turmoil, I felt like everything was falling down around me. This is the best way that I can describe my ocd experience. It was a stressful time.
Dirt and shale
slam my face.
My wheels turn slowly
why is this journey an uphill battle?
A ring I’ll never wear,
and friend’s I’ll never see again.
Glass is falling all around me.
I didn’t ask for all this you know.
Twisted by balance, I am chained
and beaten by perfection.
My illustrious mountain.
I am barefoot and thirsty for
authenticity.
Will cleaning my life free me from this pain?
123 123 123
am I clean of my disease?
6. This poem was written about Ryan Warshawski…the boy who I had chemistry with like no one else. The air was electric when we were in the same room. He had feelings for me for two years, and when we finally came together it was beautiful and sweet and secret and warm. But I was with Zach, and I had to choose between my heart and what I felt was the right thing to do. So I left Ryan. I was heartbroken. A year later, he and I were talking again, and there was nothing more that I wanted than to be with him again. But he never forgave me. This poem was for him.
My life aches.
I sleep in a sweet garden,
but the sad screams from over the wall
haunt my dreams.
I am like a delicate flower in your winter.
But my memory will not bloom for you,
my fragrance will not intoxicate you.
I don’t think you even remember
what spring is like,
Do you remember when we kissed under
the summer sky?
Do you remember what it is like to truly love?
7. “Summer”
If I leave my window open at night,
perhaps the earliest light of the morning
will bless my room as I wake.
Perhaps I will hear
the hushed voices on the streets,
perhaps I will be soothed
by a gentle breeze.
If my windows are open tonight,
my nightmares will drift away,
and my dreams will be sweet and cool and fresh,
milky as the sky, as it pours and oozes over
the quiet city.
Perhaps as I lay my head on my pillow,
I can find the brightest star in all the sky,
and wish for you,
although I don’t know why you are.
And if I wish hard enough,
you will visit me in my window,
saunter through my dreams, picking me roses,
and as I wake
your kisses will melt like sand in the surf
but they will leave a smile parted on my lips
tomorrow,
if I leave my window open tonight.
8. This poem is about me coming to terms with myself, and being beautiful in my own way.
Today I tried on beauty
as if it were a silken gown.
A soft reflection in a crystal spoon,
But it wasn’t me
so you can keep your dress.
It didn’t fit over my hips anyways.
9. This poem is called “Fuck You”. I wrote it as a goodbye to Adam. I had loved him for so long, chased after him for so long. Nothing was ever good enough for him And I was sick of it. Sick of being the follower This poem is about redemption, letting go, and reclaiming my self as a whole person.
Fuck You.
To care for you
is not why I’m writing this.
Our friendship is a bond,
a link between two minds
and two fragile hearts.
We walked carefully Adam,
but never together.
I chased you,
and you never let me catch up.
So please,
I set you free to walk without me.
For in your eyes, no one is good enough to match your pace.
You are
an untouchable.
We all see, we all know.
You walk alone, in a cloud of your
own confusion.
You walk with many reflections of
yourself.
You consume yourself my friend,
And I was the only one who ever tried to take your hand,
and lift your unhappiness.
I was the only one whose love was strong enough
to open your eyes,
and see how beautiful you are
when we can walk together.
But, I am tired.
I have chased you for years,
and my legs are weak.
You cannot wait for me,
and perhaps we shall travel different paths.
But I will hold dear to me
our walks, the moments
when our pace was slow and we were
beautiful friends.
Goodbye friends,
may one day you
find another to walk with
for I mist rest.
I’m sorry.
10. Another poem about Matt… how he threw me out like trash.
Because I hate you.
Because I hurt and I fade
into weaker shades of black and gray.
And I’m loving your space,
the air you once breathed,
I fill my lungs, tight.
But my breath is cold and empty.
Cover it up, smile, love again.,
But baby, not for me.
I’ve been spoon feeding you, and
I’ve slipped on my misery on the way
out the back door.
11. A poem about loneliness, which is a pretty accurate look at the way I was feeling when I wrote it.
Is loneliness a space between two parting lips,
the air around a lovers embrace,
only to bear witness to love, but not to taste it?
And I unlovable because YOU don’t love me?
Who will discover my skin, my breath,
if not you?
Who will pry me open, who will miss my smile.
who will think of me kindly?
Who else is sitting right now, like me
longing to be longed for
alone and unloved?
12. This poem is written about people I love. I wrote it shortly following the death of my dog Coligee. Entitled “wings”
Why doesn’t God keep wonderful people
just the way they are?
Why does he let them exist as mortals,
when they clearly have wings?
Why do they wither and fade
like autumn leaves, in and out
of our lives
when they are so good!
Could I not hold this instant in my
memories for eternity?
Could I not be in your beautiful light
for one more day?
I believe that wonderful people
are on loan to us,
because God wants them back,
up where they belong
13. This poem was written about Matt Pearson, when we were dating. I felt like I was working so hard to be his girlfriend, so proud that he had chosen ME, wanted ME. And he gave me empty hands in return. It was a hard time for me - I was desperately trying to fill the hole that Zach left in my life, trying to care about someone again. Matt really hurt me … used me, filled me with empty promises. This poem is called “Empty”
A pail full of promises…
but kick it on it’s side and
nothing comes out.
I live to serve
to please.
And you smile and say ‘that’s nice’
but we’re closed.
And my love flows down me
red
as my heart weeps in pain.
as you just yawn and roll over
and whisper -
’what would I do without you?’
14. This one is not explainable. But I connect to it deeply. I didn’t have anything in mind - I just started to write.
Stand on a ledge
face my clouds of purple, blue,
double times the pain.
And I throw my life away,
watch it flutter down the drain.
Mother may I live for one more day?
or will you force me to can it forever.
Like a stale game of finders keepers and
secrets revealed to all who hear,
but turn a blind eye.
Will I scream to my death in the ally,
while you do your laundry next door,
humming softly?
15. This one was written about my mom. I think that I read her a poem once - she wanted to know what I was writing about all the time. This was the result.
My mom does not
understand my poetry.
She smiles and nods and says
that I’m dark.
But she worries that I’m going to kill
myself.
What she doesn’t understand,
is that I don’t love Zach as much anymore,
but it’s boring to write about what is good,
because it doesn’t need to be solved.
So I won’t show her anymore.
16. This is one of my favourite poems. I wrote it about my inability to really be myself - I was so scared of what everyone would think of me. I wrote it about being trapped by my OCD…how it stopped me from being me. I hadn’t gone on medication yet, and the world was a scary place for me. It’s about being myself, and not having to conform, not having to be afraid. It’s called “the bees”
Inside my home,
I am safe from the bees.
They cannot get to me
no matter how much they beg or plead,
or fly against my window.
And I do not have to
stand still.
I can watch them calmly,
and dance naked,
and sing broadway,
and not cover myself up.
I can even laugh
at how small they are
and how big I am,
and how good I look
dancing naked
and singing broadway.
17. This is another song (sort of) I guess it’s a hybrid. It’s about Adam, and it’s entitled “mirrors”. I wrote it thinking about how much Adam was caught up in his world and all of the gorgeous girls that he courted - he couldn’t even see that I’d been there all along.
Yeah, and I’ve broken in two
trying to be everything and everyone
to you.
I’m screaming baby,
so loud but you can’t hear.
You’ve blocked out all the lies,
you’re so wrapped up in your mirror.
Beyond the reflections in your perfect world,
Yeah that’s where I stand,
c’mon and take my hand.
I’ve got a heart that’s full,
But I don’t get a chance
to love you like I can.
I cry,
but you brush off my tears like dirt.
because she’s beautiful
she’s full of laughter,
but baby don’t love hurt.
I’ll never be yours
Adam,
You can’t see my heart,
I’ll never be yours,
it was fatal from the start.
18. Adam got me into song writing - he filled books and books with songs that I though were deep and wrenching and beautiful. This is my first attempt at writing a song… not necessarily to music, but to a beat that I can feel. I used to dream that Zach and I were dancing almost every night… which provided the inspiration for this poem.
You locked me out,
with my misery,
fractured memories rip at my heart,
but only you hold the key.
Oh baby,
a broken heart could mend,
Oh yeah,
we could love again,
but I’m no longer in your life,
I’m on the outside looking in.
In my dreams we dance,
A laughing tune as the world slips past,
your hands around me
hold me tight,
God, I can’t wait for tonight.
Baby, life is so sad,
but the dream is alright.
19. Another poem about Zach. This is one of my least favourite… I couldn’t find the right words to tell the pain that I was feeling at the time.
You are a shredded memory of a smile,
long since past my face.
A mountain of tissue in a box beside my bed,
and a cameo appearance in my restless dreams.
You are a hole in my chest that I am slipping into,
the commercial that shows me what I will never be good enough to have.
You are the heart I drew, jagged down the middle,
and every sound you speak reminds me that a piece of mine is gone.
Somehow you are all of these things, yet I am only half of what we could have been,
when you were mine.
20. I wrote this poem entitled “November 11” on the day that was supposed to be mine and Zach’s 2 year anniversary. We broke up with each other about 2 weeks earlier, and the 11th was stormy and painful for me. I was reminded of the death of soldiers in war, and the small death that had occurred in my life. It was my first poem that I recorded in the book.
The wind speaks through the
sky,
somehow more solemn on such a night.
Of the pain.
Not the pain of the war,
not the cuts and bruises borne to a mans’
skin and soul.
But the relentless throe
of a heart void of love,
from men lost in times we can barely understand,
but we will never forget.
It wails more shrilly now,
and the war is within me.
Somehow, I have lost.
And with this loss, I am drained of him -
he is swept away by the frigid storm
But damn his strangle on my heart,
and damn all of us who loved, lost and bled,
on this hollow November night.
