beetletoe

[beetletoe]

I walk with groceries and hold my breath against the lump in my throat.

I don't feel it all the time. Only today when I saw a picture of you with a full head of hair and the dog on your lap. I feel it sometimes, too, when I think of staying strong and of the sores in your mouth and of the long winter coming for us. I can't look at the picture of us picking strawberries because it physically hurts.

I think about how if I knew this was going to happen I would've stayed closer to home. I ball my fists and throw punches at God because you are the last person to deserve this. I get His attention and ask, breathless:

how long have you known?

I grieve something that hasn't happened and might not happen for a long while, but I grieve it just in case because it could be the news I wake up to tomorrow. 

#my words #spilled ink #prose #beetleprose #poetry #writing #spilled words #poem #writerblr #words #spilled poetry #my poetry #my poem #poems #poetic

[beetletoe]

09/24/23

But the important thing is, it isn't all bad. Because it's true - I can feel myself beginning to belong, maybe. I mean, when I walk around now I see people I know. There's a familiarity being born. And if not that, at least the leaves are changing. Today felt like one of the last days of this beautiful tension between seasons. I felt summer slip away on the walk home. I felt something break. My reflection in the store windows walked alongside me. I'm here, she told me, but I'm not all you have. 

#Hi sorry I forgot how much i love writing bad poetry #missed this #poetry #spilled ink #beetleprose #poem #my words #prose #spilled words #writing #writerblr #words

[beetletoe]

Feet hanging off the bed, 

crying to the Cocteau Twins

Counting down the weeks until I leave. 

Writing this because I have 

nothing to tell you  

And because I am so scared to lose this moment. 

#I haven't posted on here in forever :( #the truth is I haven't been writing #so I'm going to challenge myself to write an upload SOMETHING everyday #for the next week or so just to get my creativity flowing again #writing #spilled ink #poetry #my words #poem #writerblr #beetleprose

[beetletoe]

on leaving no trace My sister is falling in love for the first time. He is kind to her. My mother and her speak, excited, in hushed voices from behind a bedroom door. 

I think about how, for my fifteenth birthday, the girl I loved more than a friend gave me a book of Sappho poems. Seriously. I still have it. I never read it, didn't want to be caught with it. There's no sweet note on the inside cover like you sometimes see in books at thrift stores, nothing written or underlined on any of the pages, nothing in the back; I know, I checked. She left no trace. 

My first girlfriend bought me a necklace. The pendant is buried in my childhood jewelry collection, face down. I don't know what I did with the chain. It's a miniature violet surrounded by crystals. I would tuck it under my shirt whenever I was at home, but one day I forgot and my mother asked me where I got it and I lied and stopped wearing it. It still looks new. 

It's snowing in March and I’m in the bedroom I grew up in, listening to my mother and her daughter. He gave her a big stuffed bunny rabbit and she has it out on her bed. It's bright purple and is probably too clunky to sleep with. Later I will find the pendant and run my finger over it. All morning the snow falls and doesn't stick.  

#hi it's been so long I'm still gay and emotional and I have a new poem for u #this is like haha wow I never fully feel like a woman cause I don't like men but it's fine it's cool it's ok #writing #poetry #poem #my poem #prose poem #prose #words #my words #spilled prose #spilled poetry #spilled ink #spilled words #creative writing #original poem #writerblr #my poetry #lgbtq #queer art #queer poetry #queer poems #beetleprose #my writing

[beetletoe]

The boy I teach sight words to is telling me about the octopus that lives inside of his pen. He can't see it but he knows it must be there, he says, because that's how the pen gets its ink. He has no doubt about this. An octopus can fit anywhere, he tells me. It's one of those moments that I will myself, frantically, not to forget. It holds some sort of truth and meaning that can't be obtained elsewhere. God, I think, why don't I think about things this way? 

#poem #poetry #my poem #my poetry #prose poem #prose #my words #words #spilled ink #spilled poetry #spilled thoughts #spilled words #writing #writeblr #writerblr #creative writing

[beetletoe]

Today,

in this unforgiving snow

as I crossed my fingers through a yellow light, 

a woman turned left 

nearly hitting me. 

She would've if I hadn't swerved 

and if she hadn't stopped 

just short of me. 

My breaks fought for me then. 

We stood still in the middle of the intersection 

inches apart

both staring 

I think I made a face

or did something with my hand;

I looked at the parking sticker

on her windshield. 

I looked at her long enough for her to 

show up in a dream, 

but not long enough for me to recognize her

if she did. 

The snow fell despite us,

the other cars stopped around 

our momentary stage, watching 

the lucky sliver of space between us

so close

everything muffled and unreal under the

horrible, 

beautiful snow. 

Why didn't you use your horn??? 

my friend in the passenger seat 

asked me, holding her mouth in her hands. 

For so long, I just wanted

to be nice. 

It was all I wanted to be. 

#yay winter storm warning vibes #poetry #poem #my poem #my poetry #prose poem #creative writing #writing #writeblr #writerblr #spilled poetry #spilled ink #words #my words #spilled thoughts #spilled words

[beetletoe]

I want to write a poem but the words aren't coming. I want to write a poem about chattering your teeth while sitting in your car alone. I want to write about a kiss that happened a year ago. About the plasticky smell of the car’s heater. About dusty pink soybean fields. About almost always feeling that I am too little. That I'm just short of what I need to be. I want to write about how we kept inching closer that entire night. How she made me feel like I was just what I needed to be. Until I wasn't, but it didn't matter because we were getting closer and I wasn't thinking about writing about it-I just felt it.

#Getting over my perfectionism and just posting something lol #writing #my writing #writeblr #creative writing #poem #poetry #my poem #my poetry #prose poetry #prose poem #prose #spilled ink #spilled poetry #spilled words #words #my words

[beetletoe]

Things I don't know what to do with

My dog’s Instagram account after he dies, 

the memories, 

my hands. 

Saturday afternoons. 

The secrets I'm holding for other people, the ones piling up on my desk. 

All the love she has for me and the feeling that I can never give enough of it back. 

Phone numbers. Of my childhood best friends 

and old coworkers 

and ex-boyfriends 

and dead relatives. 

Souvenirs from old relationships. Letters 

and beads 

and books. I can’t even touch them.

The jeans I grew out of but love so much. 

The power I have over my life, 

the feeling that I shouldn’t have it, 

and the knowledge that this makes me sound like a child. 

Yogurt that expired yesterday. 

My hands,

again. 

#poetry #poem #my poem #my poetry #writing #my words #creative writing #writeblr #beetleprose #prose poetry #spilled ink #spilled poetry #spilled prose #spilled thoughts #spilled words

[beetletoe]

i've been following your page for quite some time now. i'm kind of a fan of your writing. just wondering when will i get to read more of it.

First of all, thank you! I know I haven't been posting very often lately. I don't have any good excuse for that lol, but I am a student which takes up a lot of my time, along with just general life stuff. I am still writing, I always am. I'm going to continue to post as I write more little poems and such, which will hopefully be more often than what it has been, because I love to write and I love to see others connect to my words. I appreciate you reading!

[beetletoe]

I had a dream that you came back. We're coming up on three years now.  I've been feeling so weighed down by shit like this the last couple days that I had to check my period tracker app. But there doesn't seem to be a hormonal explanation for this. 

There are certain things you can't google. There are certain questions that nobody can answer but time and maybe an older or younger you. How much of someone's life can’t you know from their LinkedIn profile or their obituary? 

I'm going to text you once I'm done writing this.  It would be completely stupid to think that this missing only belongs to me. 

#poetry #poem #my poem #my poetry #prose #prose poetry #prose poem #writing #creative writing #my prose #my writing #writerblr #writeblr #words #my words #spilled ink #spilled prose #spilled poetry #spilled words #beetleprose

[beetletoe]

The girl who is the reason I write my sevens with a line across them is lying next to me. The ends of her hair are touching my shoulder. Whenever we're together I have to stop myself from saying sorry. We used to give each other double-sided birthday cards covered in our smallest handwriting and as much love as we could fit on a sheet of pastel construction paper. Lately it's hard for us to get a text out.

I mean, I wrote poems about her for years. And it'll probably be like that forever. Because I can't shake her out of my sevens.

She has a cross necklace and a forehead that she's insecure about. She is the reason I learned what love meant too late and hid it away. She says I love you and I think: what have you done to love me besides tell me so? 

#it's been forever! #poetry #beetleprose #prose #prose poem #prose poetry #writerblr #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #spilled poetry #spilled thoughts #spilled words #words #my words #writing #creative writing #writeblr #spilled prose #poem

[beetletoe]

The world is ending and we're buying groceries. The skin on your knuckles is cracked open and pouring red but sometimes the sides of them are shiny with drawing pencil after sketching something you won't show anyone else. You haven't had your nails done in 3 weeks and it's too bright out to be having these kinds of conversations. The sky is opening up and we're drinking passion fruit flavored stuff. The whole city is a body with a fist in the air. Later you order a pizza for both of us and tell me things you've never said out loud. It's hurtling toward us and we are taking turns brushing our teeth. When it finally comes we will take the shape of those ancient plaster casts of people holding people under ash. There is no need for our names to be remembered as long as they see we are holding on.

#writing #poetry #spilled poetry #beetleprose #creative writing #prose #prose poetry #my words #my writing #spilled ink #spilled words #poem #writeblr #writerblr #my poetry #prose poem #spilled prose #writer

[beetletoe]

When she met me I wrote poems everyday. When he sent me recordings of him playing piano I liked that kind of music. When all my best friends lived along the same street my favorite color was yellow. When I fell in love the lights were red. By the time I realized it you were gone. When we still talked I wanted a tattoo that would've been a bad decision. The truth is: when I really fell in love it was in a bathroom. The first time I told someone something that mattered I had to stick my finger down my throat to get the words out. It was in the car. Then it was in a room with a big window and a tissue box. When you met me it was Thursday and when you met me I had just gotten stung by a bee and when you met me I didn't know what countenance meant or that I would stop liking that kind of music and remembering those kinds of words. That we would be reduced to two people who miss each other. Sometimes even at the same time.

#therapy is expensive fortunately posting my bad poems on the internet is free! #writing #my words #beetleprose #prose #creative writing #spilled ink #prose poetry #poetry #spilled words #my writing #writeblr #writerblr #poem #prose poem #poetic prose #my poetry #my poem #my prose #written #spilled thoughts #spilled poetry #spilled prose

[beetletoe]

I made an Instagram for my writing stuff! Lol

[beetletoe]

September is heavy. Too full of dormant anniversaries for you to carry. It's like you're just waiting for everyone to get up and leave. September is heavy when you realize you’ve waged a war on your body again and you don't want to fight anymore. You squeeze what's left tight and feed it what it asks you for. There are other ways to live besides hardly. Tuck yourself in and try not to think about how this time some other year you were in love or less sick or meeting someone who is now gone. 

#writing #beetleprose #my words #prose #prose poetry #poetry #spilled words #creative writing #spilled ink #my writing #writblr #writeblr #writerblr #my poem #prose poem #my prose #my poetry #spilled poetry #poem #written #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #words #spilled feelings #poems on tumblr

[beetletoe]

The first bits of September collect themselves on the corners of my nightstand and in my photo reel. Today I have: a blurry picture of the crescent moon, the release of something I have kept in for too long, a broken bedside clock, a mouthful of shower water, bloodied cuticles, and a fear of what's to come. 

Today it rained and I sat on the carpet stairs and let my voice stretch around the things you used to say to me. Today I woke up to bad news and I didn’t dream anything to predict it. My fault, my fault, my fault. 

#writing #poetry #poem #my poetry #writerblr #writeblr #writblr #words #my words #prose #prose poem #spilled ink #spilled poem #spilled journal #beetleprose #My writing #creative writing

[beetletoe]

In my bedroom there are the ghosts of dead houseplants that hang over my head while I try to sleep and remind me that I can hardly take care of myself, so how dare I have subjected them to my neglect? In my kitchen there is a very loud, mean, and paranoid amalgamation of my fears. It's formless and always there. It yells at me when I do what it wants and it yells at me when I don't. I can't win and most days I end up making boxed mac and cheese and listen to it screech. Two therapists and Jimmy Fallon live in my shower. Everytime I wash my hair they try to talk to me, and there's no telling who it'll be at any given time. Sometimes I’m talking about my rise to fame on The Tonight Show and sometimes I’m crying about things that happened very long ago and want very badly to talk about but anytime I’m given the opportunity to outside of the shower my mouth stops working properly. It’s why I take such long showers. And I take off my mascara in the too-bright bathroom and think about a lot of people who probably don't think about me. And then I go to sleep and sometimes I wake up cradling a ghost.

#Night routine🫠🫠 #but haha idk this is smth different #writing #creative writing #prose #prose poetry #spilled words #spilled ink #poetry #beetleprose #my words #my writing #my prose #poem #my poetry #spilled thoughts #spilled poetry #writerblr #writeblr #words