I. How do you survive heartbreak -- something as banal, regular, and human as death? Some partial answers:
II. Do not harden your heart
say you're frail
when you're frail
It's all the heartache
that came before
that is haunting us now
III. Lost girls, yes
Sorry for infantilizing myself
We have closed our eyes
too often
while directions
were given
by those endowed
with photographic memory
Their eyes -- a needle on the compass
It started as a tale of
who is bossier
but one of us won
and it's not the one
who doesn't know
how to point back home
IV. I watched an interview
with you smiling (rare)
It was as if you were
enjoying the game of
revealing parts of yourself
This is the joy of a personal website. One can put their emo poems in a place that reveals something about themselves, but only to a niche group of people who still appreciate websites.
I know these poems aren’t any good. I’m rusty. I used to be able to publish poetry semi-regularly, but I’ve recently come to the conclusion that these are the things I can’t say to the person I want to say them to. These are the things I can’t really say to anyone. Poetry is a container for the ineffable. Poetry, writing, and art are the ways to get through the heartache.
Maybe that’s an intellectual approach, but believe me, this is my conduit to feeling, and it is giving me something that I’ve been looking for.
