New Snow

1/9/17

New Snow

A long pause and
A deep breath and
The Earth is silent.
More silent than I’ve ever not heard.

Nothingness
Not even the sound of footsteps
Muffled

No ears ringing or
Children yelling or
Cars murmuring or
Tires squealing or
Blood rushing through
My head.

Frozen fingers and
Toes.
Frigid cheeks and
Chapped mouth.

Lungs burning.
Eyes watery
From the ice-cold.

The best kind of numb.
The numb that eliminates
Feeling and
Echoes thoughts,
Messages,
Single words that
Mean not only something but
Everything.

“You are alive and well, and that’s enough.”

A love letter, but not really.

9/1/16

I’m waiting for the moment you say you’re sorry, months from now, when I’ve finally had the energy to transform into someone new and someone better.
Waiting for that moment so I can laugh and brag about how lovely my life has become without a parasite always attached to my core.
So I can tell you how much I’ve grown to love myself without you.
The way I see it, there’s a puzzled look on your face right after I finish the “Fuck you.” With a period instead of rambling forward with a list of reasons why.
And I’ll smile while I sip my iced mocha in the September breeze and watch you walk away.
It’s been months since I’ve heard from you, and I won’t allow myself to even pretend to care… you obviously couldn’t pretend long enough to send me even a heartfelt
“I care about you, but I’m fearful of what’s to come so I’ll act like you don’t exist until you write an angry poem about me, and then I’ll come running back and tell you I won’t do it again. And then I will, because I’m an incredibly immature asshole.”
I promised I’d always be honest with you and I’m damn-right going to hold myself to it.
I mean it when I say I wish you well.
You’ve taught me to love myself enough to let go of people who treat me like the one they want to talk to only when they’ve run out of better options.
Yes, I get that you’re doing the best you can with what you know right now.
I told you it doesn’t make you a bad person, which is true, but the part I left out is the part I hope you learn from.
I hope you learn from your emotions.
I hope you learn not to treat others like they don’t matter just because you’re hurting.
And I also hope you read this not-so-poetic-angry-poem.
The seasons are changing, and I’m changing with them.

Love always, Rach.

Golden Hues

5/2/16
I hold onto the edges of the rainbow
Especially
the color in between the blue and green
because that’s the color of your eyes.

I grasp the rain drops within my fists
And put them inside my pockets
With my spare change and crumpled up
Gum wrappers

I take a mental picture of the
Sky that’s
On fire
And how it lights up the
Golden hues
In your dark hair

I pinch together the thoughts
Of endless
Fascination

And I find it
Hard
To let go of
the rapid beating
of my heart
And the
Thoughts that
Won’t shut off
Even when I am
imagining
the light-switch on my
yellowing
white walls.

The golden hue of
Your hair
And the colors
Of the sky
And my goddamn
Wet gum wrappers
Fit the mood
Of irrelevancy,
Of love,
Of infatuation…

The swift movement
Of your long,
Dark
Hair.

Amethyst and Flowers on the Table

An image: A morose girl sits and waits for her lover.

An image: The lover walks over to the girl, with a bent posture; looking at the floor.

An image: the girl glances with wide eyes, almost toward the ceiling; longingly.

An image: the girl’s thoughts wander to the lilacs they always had on their kitchen table in their first apartment together; she thinks about the way they dried out and died but still looked beautiful, even as the water dried out of the vase.

An image: His thoughts wander to the girl and why she was always killing those damn flowers, even though the fragrance always choked him.

An image: Purple. Her favorite color and the color of all her favorite flowers.

An image: Her lips, frozen in the winter. Purple.

An image: Amethyst that she always kept on the table, broken from a geode. Purple.

An image: the red wine that stained her favorite white shirt from laughing so hard she spewed it all over the table. Purple. She misses laughing so hard her shoulders shake and she doubles over, falling to the floor in drunken joy.

Images, images, images. Purple.

Lilacs, amethyst geodes, those blue and red popsicles kids suck on in the Summer. Purple.

Her favorite color. His favorite sweatshirt. Purple.

The colors of her favorite Spring sunset. Purple.

Lilacs, lavender, lust. Purple.

Amethyst and flowers. Purple.

Her last love letter signed with a heart.

Purple.

Death With Dignity– lyrics by Sufjan Stevens