Poems

i've figured it out
why it is that i hate you
why we can't be friends
it took me all this time
but i wanted to be sure
so this is what i offer
my list of grievances
or so to speak

you are not better than me
there is no need to prove
your superiority when its
clear whose side you're on
i don't care what you bought
today when i need you to
listen and help me out
no, i don't like your boyfriend
my goddess please say something
at least mildly worthwhile
no, your new apartment is
not amazing and no, i'm
not excited to come visit you
yes, it is too soon to live
together, in the same space
no, you should not marry him
i don't care about the money
merely because you can
get ahold of those loans
doesn't mean you should
embark on a shopping spree
back off my glory, i've worked
hard to get this far
i don't care if your grades
are better than mine
i don't care if you make
more money than me
i don't care if you read
more books than i do
i don't care if your cat
is cuter than mine is
i don't care if your computer
is in better shape than mine is
i don't care if you cry
its only an act
you try to get my guard down
and then throw your knife
into my unprotected soul
just because i give you access
doesn't mean that you can
damage my esteem, my will

i must admit
you've lasted a long time
but that doesn't mean
that i've been happy
its time to be done
move our separate ways
have fun without me
i wouldn't be surprised
if you miss me a little
but as of this moment
i'm going to forget you
why make an effort to
remember someone so
entirely cruel

Posted by Jessica Englund at 02:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

i couldn't call it a reunion
more like an intrusion
i can't figure you out
it's been six months
and here you come

blindsided and in shock
what should i do now?
is it better to be nice
or overly-friendly
as if nothing ever happened

would it be better
to be mean
the antithesis of who i am
or the best possible option
just ignore you completely

i guess you could say
i'm angry
i guess you could say
i'm hurt
but the one thing i've
wanted to hear
you wouldn't say

Posted by Jessica Englund at 05:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

My mind has become a phoenix. It's nearing death and losing some marbles, but soon enough it will ignite and propel me into a wave of creation. This cycle of consciousness is exhausting and I have been through a lifetime over the past three weeks. Who allowed this creature out of its cage? Put a harness around my intellect and place it within academia and don't ever let it leave. Don't worry, there are plenty of ways to bend the bars re-imagine its frame, but in no way does this free you. What makes me think that I'm free now? Is the idea of a phoenix offering a false sense of cagelessness? I'm not sure how to escape this cycle, but I do know that you have yet to learn its durations.

Posted by Jessica Englund at 02:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I replaced everything when I got home. As I was driving you away, I was planning my recovery. My old bedding is gone and now the sheets are clean. I straightened the couch as if that would somehow erase the evening's events. There is a line between cleaning and covering up and I've crossed into the realm of a magic marker x-ing out anything I found wanting or holding of too many memories. You have pushed my identity to its limits. The edge that I want so desperately to run away from. But you have made the balancing act easy and I'm almost comfortable in this peril. You take one step closer to the ledge and play peek-a-boo between my legs. I move into your body to try and fit its mold because this feels so amazing. I can feel your hands move to the middle of my back and begin to push me forward forcing me to initiate another step. The solid ground that I was standing on suddenly becomes pebbles and I'm slipping. There are two options for my current situation: the first would be to allow you to catch me forever subjecting me to a training-wheels subordination; the second would be to allow myself to fall down and sever any ties between the two of us. The answer is obvious, don't you think? I just wish I could tell you what really happened...

Posted by Jessica Englund at 01:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

you don't even know me

why am i compelled
to make you understand
what i'm all about
who i really am

you should know by now
the right questions
i've got all the answers
all you gotta do is ask

it's not at all reasonable
my expectations of you
although i commend you
for fulfilling them all

if all this is true
why do i continue to
hope you guess the one
secret i keep from you

i'm scared you won't care
you'll run away better
than i ever have
and erase me from memory

then this isn't about you
i guess its my own neuroses
maybe i'm scared of you
maybe i'm scared of me

is it really my secrets
that i'm worried about
or am i scared to learn
about your little secrets

what is hidden within
your old used sheets
why do you feel the need
to keep your distance

my genitals will not bite
i am toothless i swear
there is no need to hide
within your past

if i knew how to
i would coax you from
your hiding spot and
comfort your bruised soul

go ahead and release it
i'm not sure what
holds you back but i do
know when to let go

i guess its time for me
to start asking those
questions of you
because somehow

i don't even know you

Posted by Jessica Englund at 11:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I feel as if I'm dying. Do you ever feel that way? As if your entire body will conspire against yourself. My legs lack the desire to carry me and my back can no longer propel me. My head is splitting down the middle in an attempt to escape itself. Soon, my organs will become traitors and flee my skin. I can feel my bones pushing back against their constraints attempting to force themselves free of my will. My blood has not the drive to circulate and refresh my heart. My eyes have lost their lustre and feel no need to look. My genitalia have numbed to an utter uselessness and it seems that I cannot even think without pain. I am compelled to survive merely by my pen and its counterpart. In an artless exchange, I regain my existence and being. I write to stay alive.

Posted by Jessica Englund at 11:16 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

i suppose it would be beneficial
to start at the beginning
although i wish i could
i must commence from
the threshold of my fear

he views me as a movie star
from his place in the audience
he sees intelligence beauty
personality kindness
what he doesn't see is the actor
the person behind the facade

i'm putting on a play
and he's the observer
although the more he listens
and the more he discovers
he pushes me further away

he is hiding within himself
in a metaphorical shell
petrified of himself
whenever he's with me

i am pushed into this mold
this 'normal' creature because
i don't exist outside of that
which i pretend to be

Posted by Jessica Englund at 03:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)