I am shallow

Beautiful creature, I want to write about you
I like the way you tie your hair
And how your eyes contrast with your skin
But lovely as you are I don't know you
And it would be hypocritical of me
To make up stories involving you
Just because you have this pretty face
So I'll stalk you in corners instead
And when we do talk for the first time
I'll finish this poem...

Leonard Cohen

We didn't always have these scars
Or was I this quick with a smile
I always wrote poetry though
mostly about inconsequential things
nobody seemed to care about
and had at least four versions of 'Hallelujah'
on my playlist at all times
and Leonard Cohen was alive.

There was this guy I knew once
he had a green raincoat, not a blue one
and was nothing like the one described in the song
but he had autumn leaves in his eyes
and to me he seemed like he carried
harsh winds and cold rain around
even mid-august, under the city sun.
He was my friend then
and Leonard Cohen was alive.

She had this rough, deep voice
singing about freedom and beauty and love
beyond the grave
singing to me for the first time
when I was at my loneliest
or screaming, rather,
and she once had stayed at the Chelsea hotel
and Leonard Cohen was alive.

Then there was this wonderful night
As if all the crowds were gone
and it was just the two of us
He was heartbreakingly handsome
My skirts were puffy as the clouds
We were determined to dance to the end of love
and Leonard Cohen was alive.

Heroes die, villains win, stories lie
We all change, then get set in our ways, get old
No, I am not getting tired of poetry
or the beauty and the strength of words
like hot tea with lemon and honey
soothing sore throats and broken hearts
I am getting tired of writing about lost things though
and just for today I wish that I could write about something nice
and that Leonard Cohen was alive.

Attention to detail

You thought wrong, it's not true.
Nobody is going to look at you and think
                  you're interesting or beautiful
Just because you wear dandelion yellow as often as you can
and keep stuffed animals on your shelf.

Nobody is going to want to talk to you
just because you have these dangly earrings
and carry your scars like badges of honor.

When you're be busy running from place to place
people will be preoccupied with their own little errands
So nobody is going to stop you mid-run
just to ask your name
ask how you are doing
or what your favorite ice cream flavor is.

No one will see you on the bus and think
                                  'we could be friends'
just because you are smiling at your own reflection
or tapping one foot to the rhythm of the song
                           that is playing in your head.

Just as well.

Because the guy who noticed that your eyeshadow matched your socks
                       and that you had a different coffee mug for every season
broke your heart when he left
and the place he carved in your life for himself
is still an open wound
a crack in your outermost wall
where rainwater is seeping in.

The next time you spot a stranger for his tattoo
                               of a girl with coral in her hair
you'll pretend not noticing that his shoelaces are slightly mismatched
and that he doodles dragon tails on post-it notes while he is talking.

So that you won't get upset when you wear your favorite shirt
and nobody, especially not him, comments on it.

Too much fun

This is the sun

This is the sun going down

This is a childhood dream

           of never being alone.

This is also too much water

           not to quench your thirst

           but to let you drown.

This is the sun

           burning everything to the ground.