"today, i placed my tongue against a tea leaf; it tasted much like your lips. today i spent my morning on the calendar, erasing days you told me not to forget. i dont care how you spend your money, i dont care how you spend your day. just so long as i dont follow you, i'm sure you wont be getting in my way. i know you sent me fifty letters, i just havent had the time. i dont want another promise, i dont want to remember when you were mine. i cant be your scapegoat any more when there's so much left at stake. but every now and again, i kiss a tea leaf to remember how you taste."
the nights have just wrapped around themself, subjecting to everything we owned. i split our apartment down in two, so i could try to be alone. i still sleep with your sweater, i dont dare set foot in our bed. i cut it all the way till the box spring and tried to put it back together again. see, i wonder who in their right mind could ever love a lover like me. then i remember you whispering quietly, "love means the blind can see." and my hand that routinely reaches for your's, curls into a fist. i play my thoughts out better then, distracted from all that we missed. i cannot construct an accurate model of my heart, not without the space that you fill. and when asking who will love you, i will i will i will.
"i'm not sure what more you want from me, how much harder can we try? most days i'm okay with the weather, i'm okay with the strangers we lie. and maybe you were good and you were bad, but atleast you were always here. now without you there isnt much else but to kettle out my fears. i remember your eyes every morning, the gold dancing around the rim. and i remember the way you smiled when i asked "regular or skim?" but now your choice is neither, i sent your letters down the drain. i felt for your fist around my fingers and i lost to that game. maybe this is all a bit settled, maybe i've said these things before. but now your eyes are home to a stranger, i dont know you anymore."
you want a pinch of apathy, i've found i want a pinch of your eyes. i want every girl to smell like you, every girl who has brown eyes. and most nights with my television, i'll watch some trash t.v. and i'll play your favorite songs on the acoustic, just without the melody. and i'll sing out to this ghost town, "oh where or where could she be?" "it seems as though i have lost the love of my sweetest annabelle lee." because poe was a genius, a man who had loved such as we. and i cant forget what it's like to taste you when intertwined with me.
"i've put a stop to your letters, just wont answer your calls; it's so hard to accept the unaccepted, i just dont know you at all. true it is that i love you, true it is that you were the air that i breath. but time is a trick inside of itself, and i've stopped caring for tea."
Today I threw away all my tea.
Which I'm sure sounds silly considering how much I spent but
It didn't cost as much as you meant.
When I take more sips
I remember how you said "the tea taste like my lips."
Today I rewrote all the letters I had sent,
I know I composed a lot and I'm not half as good with words as you but I still hope that maybe the thought will get through.
I wouldn't blame you if your never read them or burned them
or let them collect dust.
I'll just keep writing even if all that becomes of us and them is rust.
At night I feel as heavy as a stone and cold to the bone, as I wonder what you are doing in our apartment alone. That's actually a lie, I picture someone inside, more beautiful and kinder than I.
And I want to be happy that maybe you finally will have a love you deserve but she can't love you like I will, I will, I will.
I try to close my eyes and pretend that out of habit I don't reach out for you, to find your ghost,
I should tie down these hands because they say what I can't admit the most.
I don't know what else we could have done.
I miss the way you looked at me in the morning sun,
You stared at my eyes and I wasn't sure what you saw but I hope these eyes told you the things I didn't know how "You gave them the best view."
I wonder if you think of me as often as I think of you, I swear sometimes I still hear your voice singing to me, I'm sure it's half insanity and mostly my longing for your lullaby.
I've been reading Poe a lot lately and he is still my favorite because he is a genius and because I don't feel so far away from your presence when his words only remind me of us.
I know there is not an "us" now and you never look at me, so I get the feeling that all I am to you is a stranger, but I don't blame you if that is true.
I may as well be a stranger because I don't want to be myself.
Time has passed and I know you no longer want my letters. I still wait by the mailbox everyday, rain, sleet, hail, snow, storm. My heart can not be constructed with out your hearts form.
I bought more tea and I've sent it all to you, not sure what I'm hoping will become of this
I guess I just want to see if your love for tea
or for me,
*My friend wrote this poem in reply to yours. She says you are her favorite poet.
11 years ago
When i first clicked into this, i didnt think i would like it very much because it was in such a big paragraph, but once i started, i couldnt stop! it was amazingly written, and i just love how you started and ended the first stanza, it was definitely my favourite part of the piece.