com·mu·ni·ca·tion

Cherry

By a.lesser.thing

Fri, 26 Apr 2013
  • 854 reads
6 comments
 

The freckles
hidden among her
body, peppered--these
small details that you
passed by
originally.

The way she
gently pushes you
away when she's angry,
and murmurs, "Leave me
alone."

As if alone,
a tornado, fists
that flow like water, the
itching under her fingertips
is better than seeing your
face or listening to the
insensible sounds
forming words
and a language
as they climb out of
your mouth.

We created these
things, a language, a label,
love, lust, and so on, as an
attempt to make others understand.

Com·mu·ni·ca·tion: a word for words
talking about how we use words, sounds,
conveying them like we're running a factory
inside of our brains.

I don't know
what I'm doing
writing about writing
or using words, writing
words about our words,
but I meant to say: I
love someone very
dearly, and I don't
know how to say
it. The words
I have don't
make sense,
and seem utterly
preposterous.

Love sounds like
eggshells being cracked
in the morning, and lust, like
a shallow pond, like her toes
curling, spine arching, just as
she's about to--she's about to,
and
it seems
words
become useless.

I don't know how
to describe this. Communication
fails me on a daily basis.

I want to
climb inside of your head, paint you
pictures, and never settle for a relationship.
I will be with you; stay within you; because I
choose to. Not because I said three words, not
because I wear a piece of jewelry that says, "I
am committed."

I am here
because I
want to be.

I'm trying to
say how much
you matter
to me.

Communication,
kəˌmyo͞oniˈkāSHən,
steadily failing me
all these years. Let
me tuck the hair behind
your ear. I'll take care
of you, dear.

Certificate 12
Poem
Love

Comments

Submitted by The Walrus on
This piece says to me that you have an awful lot of love to give, A.l.t.

Submitted by lenchenelf on
Like this, and if you are only fourteen, you are going to be a very fine poet. x

 

Submitted by Esther on
Communication is everying; your well equipped to say more.

Submitted by scratch on
I agree lenchenelf.

 

Submitted by littleditty on
This is so lovely - a great love poem a.l.t I am here because I want to be.

 

Submitted by a.lesser.thing on
Love is a fascinating topic for me, because I'm still struggling with my definition of it, and still wondering what it would mean, to me, to be in "love" with someone. I take plays on it, though. Physical, emotional, committed; everyone has their views. I definitely think that loving someone means an awful lot, though, and I hope that, should I get the chance, I could take my love and leave it in their coat pockets. Thank you, lechenelf and scratch! :) I hope you're right. I've switched around my ideas of career path in the last few months (along with a change in lifestyle, too!) and I was thinking of looking into writing. Still seems like a fuzzy dream, but all I can do is try. (Also - my week is the upcoming Wednesday! Edging up on a decade and a half now.) Esther, I completely agree. The hard part is that, while equipped to say much more, I struggle in the actual saying. My mum was in the dark about why I was hurting myself, why I was suicidal, etc. even after I got out of the mental hospital. I finally wrote down what needed to be said, then spilled it out in the parking lot of Blockbuster--my life is a bit clumsy, to say the least. It works out, though. I think much better when I set my words out in front of me, and in the end, I hope I can transfer this use of words into my actual tongue. It's in here, just not wired the same, it seems. Thank you, littleditty! :)