Mathematically

If I were to love you now,
I think I'd love you upside down
and parallel.
I never was that good at math,
but I'm positive that I must subtract
all of the days
that you were away.
I'd take all your tangents,
cos and sines,
and curve your lines
straight into mine.








How adorable is this? Math plus dorky love poem equals WIN. Ha!
The funniest part is that I HATE math, with the fiery passion of a thousand burning suns.

Soooo

Silence is sometimes a terrible state of being,
probably invented to torture me
and anyone else who over-analyzes things.
Is it comfortable, or awkward?
The question poses a difficulty
in the absence of speech,
filled by heavy breaths and heartbeats.
I reposition myself unsteadily
and ache to fill something,
even if I don't know
quite what it is.
"Soooo...?"






I do that a lot. Even if the silence isn't very long- if I don't want it to be quiet, I start my sentences with "SOOOOOOOO..." as if I'm highlighting the fact that there was an awkward silence happening or about to happen. I really hate it.

Confused

If I could stand up to the truth
then I wouldn't be sitting here, confused,
but love is like no other word
(adjective, noun, or verb)
that I have ever felt-
and who can say I have?
(felt love, I mean.)
One can never tell with these things,
whether I am merely attached
or infatuated.
To be sure I love food, friends,
music, art, and other odds and ends-
but when it comes to romance
(the "May I have this dance?"
kind of stuff)
it all gets fuzzed up.
So you know what?
Screw it.






Haha-! So, I've been going through my things & trying to throw stuff out that I don't need, and that means that I'm going to be submitting a whole bunch of stuff like this. Old poems that haven't seen the light of day for a WHILE.

Intent

She is bent,
intent
on her work,
tongue out
and eyes
squinting.
I try
not to smile,
and instead
duck my head
and write about it.






I find it so cute when people make weird faces when they're concentrating really hard.

Anybodies

There are too few
Somebodies. Me and you,
we're Anybodies, through and through.






A short twist off of Emily Dickinson's poem.

Exam

Rumble, twist, crack and split
open the edges dissolving the
smallest pieces of chemistry
that my mouth can take,
from my stomach leeching into my veins
then my brain then every system is in
hyper-focus warp drive, fingers twitching
eyes open wide and I am washed away in a tide
of movement and stillness and concentration;
every muscle tensing as if there's a fight
happening and I almost love it, the way
my heart races as if we're running
towards something great and then I
remember that I've got some studying
to do, that's the reason for all this
and suddenly all I feel is a weight
pressed against me, saying 'no need to hurry,'
but I know there is
so I try to escape it, and
get back to the crisis at hand-
I've got to ace this exam.







It's funny, in a sort of ironic Shakespearean tragedy kind of way. Or something like that, I don't know.
Wish me luck.

Sky

the sky pulls at my eyes
like it is the magnet and
they are magnetized, insistent
and i can't resist it,
i don't even try.
to let the colors wash over
me, the gradient and cloud
patterns and the enormous
loveliness of everything-
i sink into it like a scented bath,
mentally sighing my no-words-for-this
feeling of
joyreliefhappinessbittersweetamazinghug
and let it fill me up.






I just love looking at the sky. It's something beautiful that I'll never get tired of.

Mayan

I feel somewhat ruined. My
ancient Mayan walls, stone and cold,
covered in ivy and hieroglyphics
that you could never hope
to understand. My fragile body that hides
it all, the arms and hands
that wrap and grip as if
to keep it closed.
There is a continent inside
of me, where things disappear and
I go there sometimes- it's why
I couldn't hear you.
Your words dropped right through
and I let them,
I let them.

I let them go.





I'm not sure what this is about, but I like it? My subconscious is probably laughing at me right now.
PS- I GET IT NOW. (much later...)
.