poetry – Therese's random blurbs

i’m up at night

thinking of you

who knew your last ex

would be the latest muse;

when i’m avoiding anxiety

and textbook ruse,

when i should be learning about acidosis

i’m contemplating kisses you would sprinkle on my cheeks

i’m wondering why my heart feels leaden within me

i’m wanting, desperately (but not trying hard enough) to release these feelings that possess me;

i want to tell you how grateful i am that

you taught me what you taught me,

and i’m sorry i couldn’t see it then

from WWE, to appreciating freshly made food until

it’s appropriate, once settled in the apartment to “dig in”

to greeting your mother on the phone

and hearing her warming voice

to consider how you’d wear your hat backwards

how you’d bank a shot

your form and voice,

it’s fading now;

but let me appreciate this –

you let me walk away,

you didn’t know anything was amiss/you knew something grated on my fist

i also felt we were different,

but in some ways we got along;

i do miss Friday night WWE

and Monday night RAW

and being nerdy about the up-and-coming

and the plot twists

and late night podcast radio you’d listen to put yourself to sleep;

what i wanted was for you to hug me until we both fell asleep,

but i knew that wasn’t what made you comfortable,

me digging into your side made you uneasy;

(it wasn’t (an easy) fit)

i should’ve appreciated those disparate times,

you wanted to let me be who i wanted to be

stubborn, obstinate, fickle, testy as i was

and still claim to be

just older and faltering

and wishing you the best in these things;

i saw UTSA won the championship –

you deserve all the glory that comes with the whole Rowdy crew team

i hope you’re making all the connections you wanted

and you’re vibing with great people who

value your input, your work, your color scheme;

thank you for listening and for being there for me;

i am sorry i was selfish

in my body

in my mind

i didn’t know who i was, what i wanted

(i was afraid to voice what was upsetting me)

thank you for providing support

and for having a warming heart to many a thing –

i am,

sorry about your Grandma – i know she meant a lot to you.

i hope she is at peace, and yet always with you.

i’m, sorry i never wished you a happy birthday

when that time came round again;

or that i never got to introduce you around to SA properly

before this pandemic hit us to-and-fro and ran;

i’m sorry i was impatient in how i handled things

or that i ran away while giving you the key

i was just ashamed of even ending things

it was hard to see you there

in person, because

the truth is i wanted to hug you –

it’s the comfort you give

without meaning to,

i know i paint these rose-tinted glasses

in whatever paint suits me hues;

i pray for you oftentimes,

to wish you the best;

and yet in the same breath oftentimes,

i want my heart to let these feelings aside and rest;

i’m typing this unending monologue

that you may never see –

more as closure (selfishly)

and yet unselfishly

i don’t want to come barging along with my feelings

it’s hard to tie a bow on something

that feels like it’s been unfurling.

2-6-2022

i’m excited

unchecked possibilities.

thrilled by the possibilities

of today as it is in entirety

I came clean on so many things

I feel like a more bit of a genuine me

stumbling into the unknown

and unwritten future

as it brings

there is suffering

there is slavery, and fear

that is corruptibility and

there is also hope that rends

the dark misty morning

unveiling Sam Smith croonings

and dog yelpings

In my mind it feels like a clearing

a threshing of sorts has occurred

that the mishaps and missteps of before

are somehow something to rejoice

because I am no longer there.

I am no longer held back by that fear.

the voice of the girl who would hide

sense and feel injustice

had had enough

with being touched inappropriately

to seeing mismanagement and abuse of power

“as it comes”/

“it happens in the family”

but no.

I don’t fall for those acceptancies

those ceilings

that put limitations

by age, gender, or creed

we shouldn’t be limited by these things

our voicelessness can band together until we are singing

a chorus where we are freed.

12-13-20

I look at God’s wonders

and go, “wow”.

Nothing else to say,

but I’ll ramble on anyways.

There isn’t a word to encompass it

the simplicity and beauty sublime

when you find yourself thousands of miles

above Earth’s surface

and find yourself a moving speck

an iota on this giant rock

crater that carries multitudes of life.

—

as I glance at the mountain ranges

and gouged out pools of lakes below

eyes meander across snow caps receding

brownish grey lakes in tow,

I see the quarter-marked circles

of crops and carefully delineated plots of land

rivers snaking through the land mass

clouds slumbering, ekeing by in their

cloud formation

two-ten-hut!

they march to their own thrum

of an effervescent beat

unaffected (more or less) by the engine

above and the cars below

I see a curtail of rainbow

shimmering through the cloud

More Pac-man time charts

squabbling about the land

and the seasons

and how much rain they’ve yet got

The plane pulls up, just enough

I glimpse a bit of winter frost

Etched in like rivets on the top of mountains

Like a pastry chef’s treats –

Looks kind of cheese danishy,

If you ask me,

—

I look below at the valley

and consider

What the Indus River valley must seem to be:

A throng of people who gather for the riches

a plenty.

waters freshly streaming

for several centuries.

And I look below at the white blanketing

across this straited brown sheet:

Powdered donut ground

with dirt rufflings.

As the plane tilts its wing,

Then back to normalcy,

I consider the rather straight line,

winding through mountains while the

captain mutters along the intercom

I can’t hear past the loud of hush of air condition

thrumming loudly along.

—

I see the red embedded in the valley of rock bed below

Tufts of clouds are returning

In their steady marching rows

and indiscriminate teams

Light snows are interspersed with

cracks and speckaling.

Like a chocolate powdered donut

that found itself thrust in newly

crushed snow,

I enjoy orange-red layers

of the earth which rises up to meet

unabashed and glorious

are these escarpments that have no need

to hide

their fertile red-rock beauty.

11-12-20

When I was grateful for us

our time was already up.

I am glad that we had our peace

and I hope that

you keep growing in being.

there are moments when,

and if i’m being honest,

I miss you

as I reminisce on what used to be.

but I am so lost in the present moment

being sad on what had been

instead of being grateful for now

and what learning and life brings.

—

hey,

when I take a pause for space,

I hope you know its not because

I dislike you

but because I need to restructure who I am

and what i’m feeling.

I miss memories of you.

I am glad for the past.

but my restless feelings don’t cease

until I truly take pause

and reflect on the present as it is

unveiling.

I hope you are well

and know that blessings are aided

by positivity.

—

so I am taking the space

to be silent

to reflect

to dream

and envision a better me

I will keep you in figments

and prayer

and be grateful for us meeting.

12-4-20

internal riptide prayer

help me not practice resentment

because that is all i feel

i radiate

don’t want to be alone

but yet do not want to

exude abusive language

so let the dog keel

and to and fro the stagnant echo of debussy plays

while these nails are fake

i have no recourse except

i do things sometimes even if i don’t want to

shape appearances even though

i’m out of disarray

if i don’t feel it,

why do i do it?

why can’t i just let people fall flat on their faces

instead of being the flat mat that people walk on

it’s hard practicing charity and love

when i’d rather scream my heart out

instead of being someone’s uber

and the way that flat last note landed upon

10/13/18

to M.

08/16/18

i’ll kiss your cheek
and bid you adieu
to all that there was
all that there ever will be

i’ll brush strands away at your temple
in sweet remembrance of
a calmness, relaxed
demeanor

and i’ll get offset
sometimes on the offchance
that my words are just words
comfort only fleeting
when there is something everlasting
at stake.

so i put my heart close to the chase;
i pinned it close to the sleeve –
it is to scarlet letters
self imposed
by guilt and ambiguity

its to hangups and friendships and messups
but to conversations where
i came to you, crying

so thank you, for your honesty.

in being in truth
i couldn’t futher mislead you
if we’re talking guts and feeling,
i can muster
sexuality and comfort
and fondness of being –
and most of these
are not feigned;
we’ll draw parallels every now and then
to a boy in Connecticut
and how i longed to see his face

but i can’t lie to you, anymore

except that i am,
confused
here is to lack of clarity
and 351 am poetry

brought on with the gesture
and idea of you;

we met online as text words speak
in unfeeling, noncomplacent corners of our being
but i cant continue this charade

of faith in flux
and wanting to touch your face;

i would have to
i would rather
give you up because i have to
because it’s right

than to have you dragged off to the grave
for using you
like you say i did not.
(and i am not virtuous,
and we are all humans shaded
in uneven tones of gray)
for maybe not caring as equally
as you did me –

but mostly that there
is no need for the fanfare and celebratory;

i tried to be rid of you once
but you don’t give up so easily

to verbal communication
and not letting the hook off,
entirely.

its to cheekbones and your eyes closed in relaxed
repose
that made me want to reach
out and caress it
in a somewhat drunken state.
its to your wry smile
in your own particular style
that can’t be
replicated, in word post haste.

i don’t know where we stand
but our late night phone calls
daytime updates,

continue feelings i would rather abate –
but that’s all they are,
wandering emotion that won’t stop
or hesitate
to move in a new direction.

to hearts.

When will I

Get over you.

It’s been more than a couple months due

And you’re still there,

Lingering.

My mind does and then doesn’t

Relent

So easily.

I wish it did, though. Because,

Even though things are supposed to be changing,

I tend to still live in that

Ill-forsaken,

Not to want

To be forgotten past.

And there I wish I could find you,

I look at cars and think of him or you

And vans and

Can’t even relate

Except it’s never been your face.

It’s like “Dammit to hell, Jim”

Though Star Trek coursed its own fate.

I think I’m so smart but really

To hearts that can’t even decide how to break.

1:12 am, 11/11/17

to make sense.

I am sad

We’re not the same as before

From when we gladly would take less than a split second to decide

On whether a restaurant

Held our interest and that particular brand

Of zest, fulfillment, life

But now we’re separated

An invisible roadblock;

It is to life and the loss of element –

Not that you ever asked,

Or that I ever quite complained

But it hurt when you used my sins against me

When you’d throw me to the dogs

If only it’d bring you to a higher point in his eyes

I am not the victim and yet

You and I have much growing up to do

In dealings with men

Or lack thereof relationships

I know we’re trying to grow,

Respectively,

You

And this whole time, I thought I had the grander, better perspective;

That I knew what to do,

So it was as if I schooled, tutored you;

But you have, you are your own person, being.

I don’t somehow, regret what I did

As callous as it sounds in being

But I do regret how it made you feel –

But in a bittersweet way,

It felt like comeuppance,

Because then you and then I

Understood what it was like to be betrayed.

No matter the times I’ll say

Nothing happened of the sort

And who cares if I like him or not –

Things are cut off, but tendrils ever casting their shadows

Hold a presence even when the concrete

Has been cast off.

So I don’t want to cling onto a friendship

That has in a way grown past due

Because maybe I, too, was unhealthy for you.

I can’t and I do presume to be a knowing voice of fortitude;

Yet you saw me mess up time and time again,

But hell, I’m trying, really trying

To be better than the person I am.

You’ll not read this,

Unless I show you.

I speak to complications,

And intertwined webs of pseudo jealousy –

I am sad because our allegiance sways

And there’s no trust, belief

And I wish there was a scapegoat to blame;

I wish I could pin it on human faults,

Allowing remnants of what existed

Of our friendship, to fester

In plain. Sight.

But you had overstepped where you did,

And it’s so hard to forgive you.

And I had callously done what I did

I am not the person you make me out to be

Because my own demons could pitchfork me

Into another realm, unseeing;

So now you can’t believe me,

Which makes sense.

To this lackluster friendship, feeling

I guess this is what does/n’t make sense.

10/16/17

blue, green

To want to be touched and loved by
Somebody –
Is that how we operate?
You like how I feel against your skin, heart, face
And I, I think and see a being worthwhile
in someone broken and forlorn.
Is it just me torn?
Or do we entirely operate unaware?
I do like the stare and heat
it’s your eyes on me and hands
that make do –
how they shape and form my mismatched attitudes
how to deal
when the deal is we like comfort
and sex is one other most perfect heady brew but you
stir and bring out a rise in me
i’m always like swift with poetical lyrics
a song in mind.
Tim you are, one helluva guy.
It’s to your smiles, laughs, and those Yaaaaaas’s
Expressions that make me smile
To your genuine curiosity
wanting to better yourself and to living your life
it’s to those moments i thought I’d be done
writing you a line
But all I have is words and colors that you told me
that you liked
So Tim,
no matter where you, we,
find ourselves in time –
I’ll wish you the utmost best
to being one helluva guy.

08/21/17

	gerbilette on I should let a lot of things…
	Tejaswini on I should let a lot of things…
	SauceBox on i look for hope in the smalles…
	articulatewordss on to that lady.
	gerbilette on to that lady.

Tag: poetry