Eight Months, a Year

Today marks eight months since my boyfriend and I started dating and we’ve known each other for a year. For that reason, here are a couple poems I wrote for him/us in that time.

The last poem, “A Reason to Live and to Love” contains mention of suicidal thoughts.

“I Regret Not Being Rich”

25 July 2018

If I didn’t need money

I wouldn’t have said

That I would work today

But as it is

I do and wish

That wasn’t true

Because I would

Still be with my boyfriend

Instead of walking

For four hours straight

 

“Love Like Fantasy”

7 May 2018

It doesn’t feel real,

it’s too good to be true.

No way is this real life,

you’re too good to be mine.

How did I find you

and get so lucky

for us both to have

fallen so hard in love?

There’s no escape

nor do I wish to find one.

I’m still reveling

in the day to day

the realization that it’s real,

You love me,

I love you.

I’m yours and you’re mine.

But how?

It’s like in the storybooks,

the prince finds the princess

and they fall in love

and seem so perfect for each other.

A match made in heaven.

We fit together so well

and agree on so much,

it’s very much like

we were destined to be!

Adn the crazy coincidence

that led to us meeting at all.

I can’t help but feel

Ours is a love like fantasy

but I’m so glad it’s real.

 

“A Reason to Live and to Love”

10 February 2018

You warm my soul;

I thought I was dead inside

But you bring me back to life.

I was aching and dying

If not already dead

But you brought in a focus that was lighter instead.

The dark night of searching for reasons to live,

You’re on my list of deeply caring friends.

I have so many problems with no solutions in sight

But with you,

More things seem at least alright.

“Hair Dye” (Poem)

Recently I dyed my hair. That is the subject of this poem, as you probably guessed from the title.

This was written 21 July 2018. It is day four of my current poetry writing streak.

My hair was meant to be blue

But instead I’m not sure if it’s true,

for it didn’t turn out

as I expected ‘twould.

It’s better than my brother,

who has no blue hair at all,

Despite the fact we tried

to make it so earlier tonight.

“Dead Shower Thoughts” (Poem)

This was written 20 July 2018. It was day three of my current poetry writing streak.

Why do my thoughts

reek and rot

As if they are dead?

Here they are

just now, flowing

through my head.

But the words,

they stink and ooze

as something left for dead.

Why are my thoughts

reeking and rotten

As they flow through my head?

Prejudice (Poem)

This was written 16 July 2018.

Hear, hear,

you people around,

come hither and hear

of my adventures around!

I’ve been all the places

I’ve seen all the things

I’ve done whatever is common for human beings!

This adventure,

you see,

is desired by all,

and I’ve had it,

you see,

I’ve had it all!

All who desire to go on such trips

should listen carefully

to my masterful quips.

You have a lot to learn

before you live among true men,

for we look dissimilar enough

for them to realize

We don’t fit in!

But how can they see we’re different,

you ask,

they can see it, it seems,

with their eyes and their minds.

We don’t look like them

so we must not be the same,

they think,

and they’re both right and wrong

to think such.

For while we’re not strictly human,

we’re not not human either.

We’re just different,

but not, it should be,

to a noticeable degree,

at least from the people I’ve seen.

But they disagree

as you’ll notice right off.

A lot of them are nice,

as you’ve heard and expect,

but some are rude

when you’ve been perfectly polite.

There’s no reason for it,

but they will think you

don’t look quite right,

for whatever reason,

and treat you different for it.

The best you can do is ignore them

and move on to the humans

you’ve befriended,

listen to the nice ones,

take their words to heart,

for they’ll think of you

for who you are

rather than who they see with their eyes.

“Cigarette Stench” (poem)

This was written 19 July 2018. It is day two of my current poetry writing streak.

It smells like cigarettes,

I think from the guy,

it’s really gross,

but, hey, it’s not my life.

Doesn’t make it smart,

but still, who am I

to regulate another’s choice

Unless it also affects me?

There’s a line,

somewhere, on what can

and cannot be

Chosen for others,

And this, I think,

cannot.

“A Love Letter to Wifi”

Written 18 July 2018.

I’m working on writing a poem every day. This is day one of this streak.

Why do I not have wifi?

I’m trying to waste the time

before I am forced to leave

for work, important but un-fun.

Come back, please, wifi,

don’t leave me alone,

I need you to function,

without you life drones.

A Moment

All those days you’ve been waiting

for a moment.

Waiting for a moment

to change the world,

to set things right,

to start a fire that’ll burn so bright,

Burn it all to the ground.

But why,

why,

and when,

when?

Will the moment ever come

and how will you know it has?

Instead of waiting

why don’t you start now?

Change the course of history,

this world we’re in right now.

The good it could do,

you have a dream, a goal,

move towards it,

don’t idle,

wake up,

stop wasting time during which

you really don’t need to sleep.