The first time we said, “Hello,” it felt as though pterodactyls were flapping their wings against the corridors of my stomach.
That day, Cupid didn’t have an arrow large enough to hold a love this size, so he hijacked a plane and flew it into my chest.
You, You make me want to jump off the highest building in the city just to prove that I’m invincible with you next to me. I’m saying like, don’t text me or instant message me. Trust that it’s important that I hear your voice today. It’s crucial that we speak today. And if I was to say that I really, really, really wanted to get to know you would just be an understatement. Me, I want to pour your thoughts in a wine glass and sip them slow and strong like I’m going on vacation. I want to light candles, and bathe for hours in secrets that you just never had the courage to say out loud already, I’m ready to grab onto your dreams and jump into a pool head first just to see if hope still floats. I want to float next to you. I’m talking, ten feet above cumulus clouds so no-one can rain on our parade.
As if the only card game we understand how to play is spades. And if I win, you have to let me fall in love with you. But if I win, all you have to do is let me fall in love with you You see, if I could, if I could, I would sing a song for you. If I could, I would write you a poem. If I could, I would sample your smile, and then let my heart beat the baseline and we would create the greatest love song whenever we stand next to each other.
Love, I was the only one made for you, and you can be “At Last” by Etta James and I will be the “Ooh child” whenever you’re in pain or you can be candy coated drops of rain although it never rains in Southern California.
And we could be music, So if your friends ask if you’re my girlfriend, I’ll say “no, she is my musician,” And me, I guess you could say, that I’m her favorite song
She has purchased real estate in my state of my unconsciousness. She lives in my thoughts and then she visits in my dreams so I see her at night and then I see her again during the day and whether or not she physically passes my way, the day that we met begins to play and rewinds in my mind at least one time every thirty minutes. That’s like 48 times a day. That’s like 336 times a week, and she makes me weak in my knees and I can hardly speak like that old tune song As I stand here like a deer in the headlights of her beauty as she dances on my ideas and before she sleeps it’s like she wraps herself in my memories and she sets the needs of my soul with the melodies of her voice, She was the first girl to make my palms moist just by walking next to her. And even though her beauty consumes me I sit back wondering whether or not I should actually pursue her.
And I know what you’re thinking: I’m just some love-sick fool but tell me what would you do if you saw the most beautiful flower? I mean even if you don’t like flowers, but you just saw this one flower that took your breath away I mean a flower so beautiful that even the hardest of thugs stopped to say “yo, that flower’s kinda nice”
I mean a flower so beautiful that a mere glance doesn’t suffice because it entices you to get closer. What would you do?
Would you pick the flower or would you leave it there so that somebody else can see it too?
I want you to bite my lip until I can no longer speak And then suck my ex-girlfriend’s name out of my mouth just to make sure she never comes up in our conversations I’m going to be honest, I’m not really a love poet In fact, every time I try to write about love my hands cramp… just to show me how painful love can be And sometimes my pencils break, just to prove to me that every now and then love takes a little more work than you planned See I heard that love is blind so, I write all my poems in Braille And my poems are never actually finished because true love is endless I always believed that real love is kind of like a super model before she’s air brushed; It’s pure and imperfect, just the way that God intended See I’m going to be honest, I’m not a love poet But if I was to wake up tomorrow morning and decide that I really wanted to write about love I swear that my first poem… It would be about you
About how I loved you the same way that I learned how to ride a bike: Scared But reckless with no training wheels or elbow pads so my scars can tell the story of how I fell for you You see, I’m not really a love poet But if I was I’d write about how I see your face in every cloud and your reflection in every window You see I’ve written like a million poems hoping that somehow maybe someway you’ll jump out of the page and be closer to me Because if you were here, right now I would massage your back until your skin sings songs that your lips don’t even know the words to
Until your heartbeat sounds like my last name and you smile like the Pacific Ocean I want to drink the sunlight in your skin If I was a love poet I’d write about how you have the audacity to be beautiful Even on days when everything around you is ugly You see I’d write about your eyelashes and how they are like violin strings that play symphonies every time you blink
If I was a love poet I’d write about how I melt in front of you like an ice sculpture Every time I hear the vibration in your voice so whenever I see your name on the caller ID my heart It plays hopscotch inside of my chest Yo it climbs onto my ribs like monkey bars and I feel like a child all over again I know this sounds strange but every now and then I pray that God somehow turns you back in to one of my ribs... Just so that I would never have to spend an entire day without you
I swear, I’m not a love poet But if I was to wake up tomorrow morning and decide that I really wanted to write about love My first poem it would be about you And after all of that she was like, so how do you feel about me? And I said, put it like this: I want to be your ex boyfriend’s stunt man. I want to do everything that he never had the courage to do like… trust you
I swear that when our lips touch I can taste the next sixty years of my life And some days I want to swallow stacks of your pictures just so you can be a part of me for a little bit longer If I could I would sample your smile and then I would let my heart beat Do the bass line, we would create the greatest love song of all time Whenever, we stand next to each other, love I was the only one made for you and you can be at last my Etta James I’ll be oh child when you’re in pain or you could be candy coated drops of rain Even though it never rains in Southern California And together, we could be music
And when my friends ask if you’re my girlfriend I’ll say no She is my musician And me… I’m her favorite song And then suck my ex-girlfriend’s name out of my mouth just to make sure she never comes up in our conversations I’m going to be honest, I’m not really a love poet In fact, every time I try to write about love my hands cramp… just to show me how painful love can be And sometimes my pencils break, just to prove to me that every now and then love takes a little more work than you planned See I heard that love is blind so, I write all my poems in Braille And my poems are never actually finished because true love is endless I always believed that real love is kind of like a super model before she’s air brushed; It’s pure and imperfect, just the way that God intended See I’m going to be honest, I’m not a love poet But if I was to wake up tomorrow morning and decide that I really wanted to write about love I swear that my first poem… It would be about you About how I loved you the same way that I learned how to ride a bike: Scared But reckless with no training wheels or elbow pads so my scars can tell the story of how I fell for you You see, I’m not really a love poet But if I was I’d write about how I see your face in every cloud and your reflection in every window You see I’ve written like a million poems hoping that somehow maybe someway you’ll jump out of the page and be closer to me Because if you were here, right now I would massage your back until your skin sings songs that your lips don’t even know the words to Until your heartbeat sounds like my last name and you smile like the Pacific Ocean I want to drink the sunlight in your skin If I was a love poet I’d write about how you have the audacity to be beautiful Even on days when everything around you is ugly You see I’d write about your eyelashes and how they are like violin strings that play symphonies every time you blink If I was a love poet I’d write about how I melt in front of you like an ice sculpture Every time I hear the vibration in your voice so whenever I see your name on the caller ID my heart It plays hopscotch inside of my chest Yo it climbs onto my ribs like monkey bars and I feel like a child all over again I know this sounds strange but every now and then I pray that God somehow turns you back in to one of my ribs... Just so that I would never have to spend an entire day without you I swear, I’m not a love poet But if I was to wake up tomorrow morning and decide that I really wanted to write about love My first poem it would be about you And after all of that she was like, so how do you feel about me? And I said, put it like this: I want to be your ex boyfriend’s stunt man. I want to do everything that he never had the courage to do like… trust you I swear that when our lips touch I can taste the next sixty years of my life And some days I want to swallow stacks of your pictures just so you can be a part of me for a little bit longer If I could I would sample your smile and then I would let my heart beat Do the bass line, we would create the greatest love song of all time Whenever, we stand next to each other, love I was the only one made for you and you can be at last my Etta James I’ll be oh child when you’re in pain or you could be candy coated drops of rain Even though it never rains in Southern California And together, we could be music And when my friends ask if you’re my girlfriend I’ll say no She is my musician And me… I’m her favorite song
One If I could, I would nail these hands to the edges of stars, I would sacrifice this body to the sky Hoping it resurrected someone spiteful enough to not care about you any more.
Two Staple me to a cross, Pierce my side with a broken promise And I will bleed all the crippled reasons why you deserve one more chance.
Three Loving you is the last thing that I felt really good at.
Four You wanna know how I got these scars? See I ripped every last piece of you out of my smile.
Five I whispered you stardust,
Six I spoke you into sunflowers,
Seven I dipped my hands into forever, I touched you infinity, Treated you as if you were the last molecule of oxygen inside of a gas chamber, I was good to you.
Eight You wanna know how I got these scars? See I swallowed my pride, And then it clawed its way out of my mouth.
Nine
I realised that I was never really your boyfriend, I was just your fucking height man.
Ten I hope your next boyfriend gets smallpox.
Ten Yes I said smallpox.
Ten I hate you,
Ten But I still miss you,
Ten And a part of me I still loves you.
Ten It’s hard for me to count when I get emotional.
Ten I heard that over ninety percent of human interaction is non-verbal so
…
Ten If I could,
I would tie your arms to a daydream And then auction you off to my fondest memories.
See I wrote this poem in my own spinal fluid,
I put it on the backbone of a white flag
so before you read it you’ll already know that I’ve given up.
I’ll just keep you here.
Shackled to the most important chapter of my life story
pressed into the basement of my eyelids l
ike liquid salvation
so I remember you beautiful
with amazing underneath your wings and an orchid smile,
you gorgeous earthquake.
You cracked hourglass with sand spilling from behind your ribs,
you wasted my time
How dare you linger on my lips and then kiss me like a stuttering apology
with excuses stapled to the roof of your mouth.
I still remember you like a dream tattooed to the inner walls of a long term memory
but some days I wonder if you existed at all.
And of course, you wanna know how I got these scars.
I got these scars the day I fell in love with you. I landed face first.
To the random dude who started dating my ex girlfriend two days after we broke up - yes, I saw that shit on Facebook. Now when I realised that you were in a relationship with the girl that I thought I would someday spend the rest of my life with, I walked outside, I said to myself “there is no way Ashton Kutcher is gonna catch me off guard”. I waited 45 minutes, and then I realised that there hasn’t been a new episode of Punk’d in damn near four years. So I guess I’m the only practical joke in this entire situation.
One The first time I saw you and her in a picture I wanted to take my entire arm, Shove it inside of the computer And snatch the happiness right off of your face.
Two If I ever see you in the street I’m probably gonna punch you in the throat.
Three I apologise in advance. And I know- I know that it makes no sense to have this much anger towards a man that I've never actually met face-to-face, But my definition of love is being robbed in an alley Eight times in a row and hoping there is Something about today that makes all of this different. There is nothing logical about cutting off the most important parts of yourself and then putting them inside of hands that shake, that tremble, that crack like a Haitian sidewalk.
Four There is nothing rational about love. Your love stutters when it gets nervous, Your love trips over its own shoelaces. Love is clumsy, And my heart refuses to wear a helmet.
Five Cupid is fucking irresponsible And I’m tired of him using me for target practice.
Six I was told that time would heal all wounds, But what exactly do you do on days
When it feels like the hands on your clock have arthritis? Seven She always wore her heart on her sleeve, So tell me, then why the hell do you look so familiar? Eight I think I’ve seen you somewhere in her smile. Like I’ve heard your voice in her laughter, Like I’ve smelled your cologne on her thighs, I bet if we dusted her heart for fingerprints we would only find yours. Nine I have this envelope, It’s full of all the butterflies I felt The first time she relaxed the Velcro on Her lips and smiled in my direction, I think most of them are still alive. I guess these belong to you too.
UNO
Si pudiera,
clavaría estas manos a los bordes de las estrellas.
sacrificaría este cuerpo al cielo
esperando que resucitara en alguien lo suficientemente malévolo para que no le importaras más
DOS
Engrápame a una cruz,
atraviesa mi costado con una promesa rota
y sangra´re todas las razones incompletas por las que mereces una oportunidad más.
TRES
Amarte fue la ultima cosa e la que me sentí realmente bueno
CUATRO
¿Quieres sabes como obtuve estas cicatrices?
Verás, arranqué cada pedazo de tí de mi sonrisa
CINCO
Te susurré polvo de estrellas
SEIS
Te hablé entre girasoles
SIETE
Sumergí mis manos en el para siempre
Toqué tu infinidad,
Te traté como si fueras la última molécula de oxígeno dentro de una cámara de gas
Fui bueno contigo
OCHO
¿Quieres sabes como obtuve estas cicatrices?
Verás, me tragué mi orgullo,
y luego desgarró mi garganta al salir
NUEVE
Me dí cuenta de que realmente nunca fui tu novio
Solo fui tu maldito amigo
DIEZ
Espero que tu próximo novio contraiga varicela
DIEZ
Si, dije varicela
DIEZ
Te odio,
DIEZ
Pero aún te extraño
DIEZ
Y una parte de mí aún te ama
DIEZ
Se me hace difícil contar cuando me pongo emocional
DIEZ
Escuché que el noventa por ciento de la interacción humana en no-verbal, así que
...
DIEZ
Si pudiera
te ataría a un sueño
y luego te subastaría fuera del fondo de mi memoria
Al extraño que empezó a salir con mi ex-novia dos días después de que termináramos -si, vi esa mierda en facebook-
UNO
La primera vez que te vi en una foto,
quise arrancarme mi brazo entero
meterlo en la computadora
y arrancarte la felicidad de la cara
DOS
Si alguna vez te veo en la calle
probablemente te golpearé en la garganta
TRES
Me disculpo por adelantado
y se que no tiene sentido tener toda esta ira contra un hombre que jamas he visto cara a cara
pero mi definición de amor, es ser robado en un callejón
ocho veces seguidas y aún así esperar
que habrá algo hoy que lo hará diferente
no hay nada lógico en cortar las partes más importantes de ti y luego ponerlas dentro de unas manos que se sacudes, que tiemblan, que se agrietan como una banqueta haitiana
CUATRO
No haya nada lógico sobre el amor
tu amor tartamudea cuando se pone nervioso
se tropieza con los cordones de sus zapatos
el amor es torpe
y mi corazón se rehúsa a usar un casco
CINCO
Cupido es un maldito irresponsable
Y estoy cansado de que me use como diana de práctica
SEIS
Me dijeron que el tiempo cura todas las heridas,
pero que se hace exactamente en los días
cuando se siente como si las manecillas del reloj tienen artritis?
SIETE
Ella siempre usó su corazón bajo sus mangas,
así que dime, ¿porqué diablos luces tan familiar?
OCHO
Creo que te vi en algún lado en su sonrisa
creo que oí tu voz en su risa
creo que olí tu colonia en sus muslos,
apuesto que si buscáramos huellas en su corazón, solo encontraríamos las tuyas.
We were I his room, after the party, lights dim, a few drinks in and then everything was warm and smoothed over, then this moment quickly punctured by supposedly sweet whispers that felt like barbed wire. Trust me. Oh come on. Don't you love me. His hands pushed me back.
WARNING: it's that time again, time for another rape poem.
The audience sighs, just back on their seats.
Oh boy.
You say, these bitches are about to go on.
On about the rape and pain.
And no. I said no. He didn't listen.
And you ask why another rape poem.
Didn't I just hear like three of these?
Yeah. You probably did.
I'm surprised in a country where someone is sexually assaulted every two minutes.
But surprisingly these people get shit for telling their stories.
They are all lumped into one category.
"Rape poems".
As if trauma is a trope, pianation a cleishay,
all while you sit back
and ask why so many damn rape poems.
We wouldn't need so many damn rape poems if America had listened the first time!
These poems are our prayers to beat the fucking odds in this country.
Of apple pie and roofies ,
We wouldn't need so many damn rape poems if our bodies were OURS alone!
We wouldn't need so many damn rape poems if everyone knew what NO means.
We wouldn't need so many damn rape poems if Budweiser stopped selling our bodies stretched across a six pack.
And maybe we wouldn't need to write so many damn rape poems
if everyone would listen to this one!
But it seems to us that this lessons have yet to be learned.
Don't tell me she was sober enough to make a decision.
Don't tell me she was asking for it.
Don't tell me to pity him for making him face consequences.
Do you complain about another rape poem?
As is this all part of a culture?
Rape poems will continue.
Until I can wear whatever the heck I want without being called a slut.
Until I can trust my drink with somebody when I need to use the bathroom.
Until I can walk alone on the dark streets and no be a cat call.
Whose you daddy?
Get back over here!
Damn look at that ass!
Until I can wear heels without being asked who I'm trying to impress.
Until my coin speaks louder than my outfit.
Until I'm not expected to carry pepper spray on my key chain.
Until No really means NO!
Until rape means crime!
Until woman means human!
The rape poems will continue until there is no damn material left.
