foreveratlas

[foreveratlas]

On our second date,

you told me you needed someone

who keeps promises.

Looking back,

I guess that didn't apply to you.

You slept next to me for a year,

and whispered every night

that you wanted to marry me.

And then you left me

alone with Covid

on Christmas Eve,

breaking the promise

that we would spend the holiday

together.

I gave you everything

and asked nothing in return.

I kept my promises

and begged you to keep yours.

With one sentence

you told me everything

I needed to know,

when all I wanted

was a yes or no.

#poetry

[foreveratlas]

In Case of Emergency. . .

Sometimes

I imagine you at my door

a suitcase at your feet,

so scared--

teeth chitter, knee shiver--

yet so brave.

You wait,

not just to be let in,

but for a word of kindness,

of promise, of hope.

I wonder if you wonder

if this is worth it--

face to face

before judgment,

before truth,

before the point of no return--

if I am worth it.

You start to turn,

But I tell you, You're worth it.

You freeze-- and think me a fool

because I choose you.

I will always choose you.

. . . Break the Glass.

#poetry #spilled ink #poets on tumblr #poetryriot #writerscreed #spilled thoughts

[foreveratlas]

King Solomon

I hope they never find my body,

yet mourn the loss of me

as if I am painted across the walls,

ceiling to floor

in sunset agony.

I hope they never know my smile,

yet covet laughter I leave behind

as if my voice is heavenly chorus,

seraphim to cherub.

My words, an unread Bible.

#poetry #spilled ink #poets on tumblr #spilled thoughts #poetryriot #writerscreed

[foreveratlas]

One more time,

kiss me

like you're still

in love

with me.

Please.

#poetry #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #poetryriot #writerscreed #poets on tumblr

[foreveratlas]

Costume Jewelry

I believed myself to be gold

something desirable, cherished--

kept safe and shown off,

worn and loved and coveted.

You held me close,

whispered I was yours,

that I was perfect--

and I believed you.

Like a pawnshop-sad-sap story,

I believed you.

But gold doesn't tarnish like me

and gold isn't ignored

in a box tucked away in a bedside drawer,

left to corrode without sunlight,

with a lack of you to hold me,

to tell me you still want me.

Maybe I was never gold,

never something more than pyrite

or plated brass,

slowly turning your finger green

like a piece of costume jewelry

found in a thrift store bin.

Maybe I was never worthy

to be illuminated beneath

a jewelry store glass case.

Maybe the true reason

you left me behind

was because I was never gold

to begin with.

#poetry #spilled ink #poets on tumblr #writerscreed #poetryriot #love

[foreveratlas]

No More Silence

I don't believe in resolutions.

I believe in being my own effort,

my own promises and answers

at the hems of the ghosts--

the haunts I have trapped myself with

And within.

No longer

will I pretend to be stone

and blame the crutch

propped beneath my drooping shoulders.

No longer

will I stay passive

and quiet

when I hurt so violently--

so cavernously--

from maladies beyond my curtains.

I am in pain

I am in anguish

And I will not imitate stability

when the foundations have all

crumbled to

nothing.

My pain is valid

and I deserve to be seen

Every day--

not just in convenience,

Not just when tar boils over

the edge of the seemingly

bottomless

abyss.

I deserve to be seen

before my city burns

when the fire is still just

a tiny, overlooked ember.

I will learn to be fine

with the fact that I am not fine,

and I will force myself to announce

when I have been harmed

by those I hold dearest.

My happiness is important, too.

I deserve this space,

and I deserve the right

to be loved

in every facet--

not just the good and the wholesome,

but the bad, the hurt,

and the crestfallen

too.

#poetry #spilled ink #poets on tumblr #spilled thoughts #writerscreed

[foreveratlas]

Sleep in Heavenly Peace

Maybe that's Heaven--

the kind children invent

when wishing for a chance Someday

with lost love and love lost.

You see, I always felt it was

the place We go to meet again

after We close Our eyes one last time.

I told myself,

You wait for Heaven

so You can see everyone again.

But, what if,

Heaven doesn't need patience?

What if Heaven can be

those moments of kind memories

and gentle reminders?

What if Heaven is attainable

before we need to meet the end--

before the final breath leaves?

Heaven is in My dreams

where I see You the most

and hear Your laughter, feel Your warmth,

just like the days before

it all went wrong-- it all went gone.

You're there, every night You're there.

I thought You abandoned Me,

but You're in My dreams,

always bringing Your Heaven

to the other side of My sleep.

#poetry #spilled ink #poets on tumblr #spilled thoughts #writerscreed #grief

[foreveratlas]

Sleeping Mountains

I miss this --

how your body fits against mine

shrinking the small valley

that grew between us.

I miss the way you warm me

beneath sheets and quilt,

as you press into me. We create

small mountains

with our hips and shoulders--

arms laced, legs locked.

I am unsure when

the distances appear--

but, when they're absent,

you're pressing into me--

maybe unaware

maybe intentional,

letting me know

you're still here--

I'm still loved.

#poetry #spilled ink #poets on tumblr #spilled thoughts #writerscreed #love

[foreveratlas]

Responding to My Mother's Suicide Note

I wonder how many more days of

faking it

I have left in me

before I decide it's too difficult

to smile one more time.

Maybe I'll write a note

only to have it ignored

for two and a half years

just so my daughter

might find it after her birthday dinner.

Should I try harder?

How much harder can I try

when everyone I love

leaves

intentionally,

whether through the door

or by the reaper.

If devil's luck

doesn't come to claim me

mid hate crime, mid side walk,

mid life expectancy of 35--

then it'll be the grief

reuniting me with my mother.

Though, I won't mix a cocktail

in my stomach for a gentle sleep.

I'll catch the nearest train

bound for the next stop instead.

What would anyone expect

with a bipolar legacy

unwittingly gifted?

It's only fair to recognize

the very scary hereditary, and ask--

How many more days

until I take that walk,

unable to fake it one day more?

#poetry

[foreveratlas]

Luck Reminiscence

Gas stations remind me of Mom

and the way we'd pool our little earnings

for a chance at scratch-off glory,

scraping away one card at a time

with lucky dimes on a dirty dashboard.

.

One day, I win big-- a big win being

anything more than spent

to line our pockets for a chance to eat--

gambling our last five bucks for a meal,

or maybe the idea of hitting it big,

so big we'd never be hungry again.

.

My big win is thirty three dollars

off a two dollar Jumbo Buck,

and we celebrate by gorging

on chips and jerky and packages of

Little Debbie Cakes, a feast in the summer

without free school lunches.

.

A decade later, at a casino in Atlantic City,

I pull the Ace, King, Queen of Spades

while playing 3 card poker at a full table.

I walk away with eight hundred.

.

It's gone just as quickly, and not nearly

as satisfying as the days

when I had nothing, and yet everything

celebrating with a Zebra Cake

in my mom's '92 Toyota Camry.

#poetry #spilled ink #poets on tumblr #spilled thoughts #writerscreed #gambling #grief

[foreveratlas]

Griefburst

After Love packs up and departs,

Grief settles in like an old friend,

and you don't see her often

beyond a glimpse middle evening

when she creeps out

to pour a bowl of the cocoa puffs

you refuse to eat now because

of reminders.

You don't see her for days, weeks, months--

she is busy, has a job, pays you rent

for the room where Love used to occupy,

it's the front one, the one everyone walks by

when they come to visit.

Her door is often closed, so it's ok

to get a little loud, to laugh and smile

until you hear the creek of a peak,

and she gazes out, not to chastise you,

not to ask you to keep it down--

but just to know what she is missing.

You look back and there is Grief, smiling

her little gentle smile, hoping it's ok

and you're reminded of who that room

used to belong to, who held that place

so tightly protected in your heart.

Grief knows that she is unwelcome

and closes the door, but not before you wish

and wish and wish for the original occupant

to come back, hug you so tight

and laugh with you once more

in the halls of the home you built

long before Grief took over the lease.

#poetry #spilled ink #poets on tumblr #spilled thoughts #writerscreed #grief

[foreveratlas]

Calling Mom

Some days, two years feels like a lifetime

long enough for callouses to form

to protect the cold

from the heat of my heart.

Other days, it feels like yesterday

and I must remind myself

a stranger owns your number now

regardless

that even three phones later--

you're still on my speed dial.

#poetry #spilled ink #poets on tumblr #loss #spilled thoughts #writerscreed

[foreveratlas]

Twelve Years (The Other Girl On the Roof)

You said,

Everyone sees the girl on the rooftop now,

singular, ethereal, a dream aloft

the pixel avatars surrounding us.

.

Everyone sees her-- sees me,

and you forget

I was never alone that evening,

nor after for twelve years.

.

You approached me

with Paradox above your head--

disarmed and dismantled

in that moment and every day since.

.

You say the world sees me now

like you saw me then, the girl on the roof--

but you were always mine,

always next to me for so long since--

.

forever my girl on the rooftop.

#poetry #spilled ink #poets on tumblr #spilled thoughts #writerscreed

[foreveratlas]

Ember Touch

I smell the fire

linger in strands of your hair,

your neck, your fingertips--

.

And it brings comfort,

fills me with thoughts of adventure,

and the want of your arms around me.

.

Let me covet your cinders,

and the ways you control inferno

despite my wind howls--

.

calling for a moment more

of warmth against your pyres,

as the heat of you leans into me.

.

I inhale the maple, oak, pine

in ash left behind, flame stoke

and firelight flickers--

.

cast upon your cheeks,

your lower eyelids-- your lips

half grin when you catch

.

me gazing at you

from across the coals,

enamored with your silhouette

.

in ember glow.

#poetry #poets on tumblr #spilled thoughts #love #writerscreed

[foreveratlas]

We're told

There is no shame in quitting

in giving up when it's too difficult

and we lack the strength, the skills,

the understanding to go on.

.

It's unfair

that gesture is not extended

outside the realm of activities--

outside sports, games, relationships.

.

Sometimes

it needs to be recognized

that some of us lack the strength,

the skills, the understanding

to go on.

.

It should be ok to quit life

like I do five or six chapters

into a book that has lost its plot

before it could even begin.

.

It should be ok to close our story out

before we ever reach the epilogue.

It should be ok

to give up.

#poetry #pain #depression #tw sui implied #tw sui ideation

[foreveratlas]

The 90 Day Return Window

I have relationship trauma,

and maybe that's my fault

or isn't, or is a little or a lot–-

.

and that makes recognizing the calm

impossible, as if I have only known

honeymoon phases and never

what comes after, because news

is handed to me during early Spring

that I am either not enough

or too much.

.

How does one handle that?

Too much or not enough or both

or neither or just-not-the-one,

my favorite being told,

I don't love you anymore,

but I'd like to stay friends--

.

How can people live

together with lack of experience?

When the honeymoon phase ends,

is that when the details crumble?

Is that when the rose colored glasses

lose their tint and all the flags

appear ever redder

than the blush on our cheeks?

.

Is that why I am not enough, or too much

or neither, or simply unforgettable--

Always the crazy bipolar ex,

who cries and clings

to all the vestiges of adoration

and codependency.

.

Will I forever not be enough, not

good enough, or too much,

too me for people to love

beyond the 90 day return window?

.

That must be when they figure out

I'm damaged goods.

Maybe that's why I was on clearance

in the first place.

#poetry #spilled ink #poets on tumblr #spilled thoughts #writerscreed #lgbt #relationships #love

[foreveratlas]

Cinderella Maybes

You make me want more

more than quiet and a life less lived--

in this apartment tucked away

at the edge of town where

our bodies first entwined.

.

More than southern comforts

and southern hospitality

reserved for the normal folks--

more than waiting for joy and good

and a reason to move day in and day out--

.

I move for you now,

in ways my body has never known,

as if I am dancing standing still

right next to you.

.

My chest flutters with your touch,

my heart stutters against your weight

and I feel the pressure burning

in my sternum when we allude

to those happy maybes, our

Cinderella fantasies.

.

But I won't run from you

at the stroke of midnight, no--

You already know the worst of me

and love me in spite of all the ashes

and scorch marks left against

the hem of my circumstances.

.

You make me want more,

so much more-- more than I ever felt

I could possibly deserve.

I want it all, and I want it all

with you.

#poetry #spilled ink #poets on tumblr #spilled thoughts #poetryriot