The In-Between
“The Old You” 01/08/2022
It made me sad when you called the old you chubby.
You said it with a laugh but you looked haunted, honey.
One little word and you became so mean
To the boy I had a crush on when I was seventeen.
So what if you got fit and you give better advice?
I miss the boy who used to be genuinely nice.
Your absent-minded stares make me wish I were dead
Or at least back in the old days of you inside my head.
You don’t pay any rent and I didn’t use to mind.
I just wish you were kinder to the boy I used to find
So golden covered and when I look in the rearview.
I realize that life sucks now because I still miss you.
“The Classics” 02.07.2022
Picture me as Juliet if she had not kissed death.
Paint me as the dinner party without Lady Macbeth.
Make me the events, the love, and the jubilancy
And take away the cliffhangers and the tragedy.
I am not those things anymore- I am not the dame
Who does things in the fall of love that people call insane.
I imagine myself like Jane— poor, miserable, alone—
Who fell in love with a man of disdain, living in his home.
What should make a woman act that way?
What will the gossipers make of her, what will they say?
They make of most women no good wives;
All they see is delicates who cause drama in their lives.
However, they perceive us wrong on all accords.
They darken our bright sides until no one remembers before.
Imagine me as Dorian, and no one would bat an eye.
Of my jealous and lavish ways, they would comply.
If I were a March sister, there'd be chaos to ensue.
With a girl brasher than Jo they would not know what to do.
No, if I were like them with all their worst parts
I would not be the real me, the one who knows her heart.
If you wrote me down on paper, you'd have to include my worst.
In order to fill the space, you'd make me seem cursed.
Instead, envision me on canvas with my sharpness taken out.
Make me a classic that generations will rave about.
All my nasty, nitty-gritty is seen from my point of view
So write me omniscient and make me anew.
Maybe I shall be Evangeline; the sweet lover, the one side
Of the coin, properly balanced with no bad thing to hide.
Yes, make me the love interest, kind yet stern.
Let me have a brilliant title like the one I so deserve.
“The Man Who Died Of Love” 03.06.2022
His lack of confession marred his life with pity.
He never told her he loved her or that she was pretty.
So what if it was his duty to love her from afar?
He willingly chose to make his life a broken heart.
And that’s the legacy he chose to pin to his name
When he was brilliant enough to chase any type of fame.
He was a soldier who never ran away from a fight
But when it came to telling her, he ran off into the night.
If his words had inspired her flame to be lit afire
How could he not tell the longing girl of his own desires?
How simple it should be for a man so proficient with language
To tell her the truth: that his love held him hostage.
“Beloved every ramble on my tongue was spared by thee,
For you are the ocean, I’m a ship lost at sea.
Your being occupies the black behind my weary eyes.
You hold my patience and spread it from the roots to the skies.
When the world ends and all that’s left is spirit,
I hope to find your soul with my own tied to it.”
All the beautiful sentences my head couldn’t begin to fathom
Are the same things that he forced himself to hold in.
If his love was the gravity pull from the bottomless pit,
Her yearning was the one thing that spurned her wit.
She longed to find the man who could fulfill her wildest wants
And never knew that the very fact she craves also haunts.
If she had broadened her horizons, she'd find love by her side.
She could have had him sooner if she’d seen through his disguise.
Instead, she kept her love narrow and couldn’t see past her nose
And he kept his love close to his chest until it and his heart froze.
Then she lost him and his heart broke bit by broken bit
Until there was nothing but his soul and he gave her it.
She had no idea that he loved her until his lungs could explode
And as he lay dying she knew her true love was Cyrano.
more on Cyrano ^
“Flowers And Nuts” 09.01.2022
Flowers and nuts, my love, that’s all we’ll need.
A handful of nuts and a handful of seeds.
From a flower seed, a garden grows.
And from a tiny nut, we’ll grow our home.
Though it will take time, we’ll be patient together.
Through the wilting and new growth, we’ll make it though.
I’ll hold your hand, we can survive any kind of weather
As long as we fight for each other, me and you.
Flowers and nuts, my dear, that’s all in our hands.
Just joy and hope and a small plot of land.
If we make the choice, the joy will bloom
And over time comes a sweet perfume.
And if we wait until we have a full-grown tree,
We’ll have fought through years and gardened a field.
Perhaps one day we’ll look to the oak and see
That it wasn’t only us for which time doesn’t yield.
Flowers and nuts will be enough.
Simplicity will be enough for our love.
Please be patient as we wait side by side
To see if the tree and the flowers survive.
“Age Gap” 01.25.2023
I’m nineteen and scared of twenty-three.
What could someone with four more years do to me?
A man like that could easily abuse
Someone like me who’s emotionally confused.
Despite my fear, I am intrigued by you.
I verge on twenty and you’re at twenty-two.
Could two years be a little too much time?
If we fell in love would it be a crime?
There’s a guy who dated a sixteen-year-old
When eighteen had just become his own.
They walk two different paths of life.
Too far apart. No one views them right.
It’s not the age, it’s the mental state
And the fact they’re walking different ways.
Despite the warnings, so many cross the line.
It’s delusional to believe all will end up fine.
So yes, I’m nineteen and afraid of twenty-three
Because to light that match could be a tragedy.
But twenty-two looks good as twenty nears.
Do warnings overcome the want of someone dear?
