Since I'm horrible at poetry, I'm just gonna sit here and marvel at these

unpacked

i. early mornings are

the best time to get things

done, at least, in your

opinion— not that either

of us could ever wake up

anyways.

ii. i can't remember

the combination lock

so i find the master key;

i can't help but think— 

it feels like a breach of

privacy doing this.

iii. most of the clothes

are mine anyways so

i half-understand why you

left me this, but still i'm

in the dark

iv. i fold everything neatly, 

mother has finally rubbed

off on me. you left your 

favorite scarf in there,

the one you wore everywhere,

i thought you wore it when you

left, but i guess i was just too used

to seeing you with it. i bury my 

face in your cardamom-and-rose

scent, wondering

why?  

v.  i can't believe how time flies

it must've been only yesterday

it will soon be tomorrow  

vi. i am surrounded by piles of clothes

and postcards and polaroid photographs

taken with shaky hands and in bad

lighting. i briefly consider returning your

inspected luggage back to you, but i

suppose you had a reason for pressing 

the handle into my palms before sprinting

through the crowded airport

vii. i wish i knew more, but i don't,

love, i don't understand.

~~~~~~~~~~

Inspired by pictures of vintage luggage I was using for a drawing reference. I would love some critique!!!  

Did I write another nonsense love/hate poem?? Yes I did. (By the way, a saltwater and ammonia patina turns copper blue. That's kind of the basis for this poem) I'd like to hear critique as always. 

patina 

i was scrap metal-

you found me and

changed me and

shaped my existence.  

i wondered why you

made me cry,

until i saw myself turning into teal-

the salt water drying on my skin,

along with ammonia and

plastic mesh and

something else- time

not just this mixture but

a formula known as

dopamine+seratonin+adrenaline

+other ingredients like

my naive heart+its wild drumbeat+

Cupid's arrow+red in my cheeks

i am only blue now, though

ever since you made

the salt fall from my eyes.

maybe i liked

being luster-lacking copper.

did you think about that? 

ii. We're Okay (For Now) 

Jack's his best friend,

even if

Ben doesn't understand him

a lot of the time. 

Jack is smart,

but doesn’t like answering questions in school,

even if he thinks

he has the answer.

“What if I’m wrong?” he whispers,

wide-eyed, one day during math.

The second grade class is crammed,

cross-legged, onto a purple carpet.

“People get mad at you

when you’re wrong.”

That can’t be right,

and Ben tells him so,

because the teachers are always insisting

that mistakes are good

and help you learn.

Jack only frowns and shakes his head.

The subject is not pressed further.

Jack is sweet and shy

and doesn’t talk much but

doodles on everything. His arms

are always covered

in smeared drawings

in Crayola marker, of smiley faces

and bunnies and toast.

Whenever he messes up,

(even if it’s just a little thing),

he freezes,

his eyes tense— Just for a second,

like he’s bracing himself for an impact

that doesn’t come.

Ben notices

but never says anything, because Jack

never says anything when Ben’s brain

starts ticking,

the white noise rises up around his ears

(too loud, too loud), and

he

can’t

breathe.

Jack just taps his fingers

on Ben’s arm

like he’s playing piano.

Tap

tap

tap.

It’s grounding.

It makes him feel more

there,

makes him feel

okay.

They make a nice duo.

He does the speaking,

Jack does the dreaming.

I'm really not sure about this Okay, Okay, Okay series... Maybe it would work better as prose. Advice, please?

——— 

iii. Not Okay (Never Was)

And it goes. 

They grow up

and things change.

Jack stops tapping,

(Ben starts losing himself inside

his head,

breaks down in class because

it's too much, too much—)

Ben discovers that

the only way that

the noises in his head shut up is

if he’s louder than them.  

Jared Winstone skips a grade

and joins their class.

(It wasn't his choice, but

nobody needs to know.) 

Ben walks with a swagger

and talks big

and starts to scowl

and play sports

and chase girls.

He gets friends

(and an ego).

Jack shrinks in on himself,

getting smaller and smaller until

it’s almost as if he

doesn’t

exist

at all. He hunches his shoulders

and looks at the ground

and ignores the world. It wouldn’t care

if he disappeared, anyway.

(So why shouldn’t he?)

Jared knows

all the answers in class.

He commands a sort of...

reluctant admiration

from the others.

They respect him

but they don’t like him.

He stays out of their way

and reads, instead. Things are better

inside books

than outside them.

Ben watches

as his former best friend disappears.

He talks bigger, 

makes weapons out of words,

the only things that

he knows how to use.

He spins lies and people

believe them. He teases the kids

that don’t have anybody

(he has nobody, either)

to defend them. He spits out taunts

as fast as he can so he

doesn’t have time

(he's never had time) 

for regret.

He’s hurting himself too,

doing this.

It’s poison—

he knows, he knows,

it's slowly corrupting him,

destroying him from the inside

out, but

he can’t get enough of the pain.

It’s mean,

it’s bad,

it’s awful,

but he enjoys it,

(in a twisted way).

He hates himself for that,

hates himself more

than he has ever loved anything, ever,

but it doesn’t change a thing.

Everything

is spiraling

out of control 

and it's all his fault.

(It's always his fault.)

(Always, always, always.) 

Welp, here's a thing:

Fires of My Heart

Glowing embers, deep inside

Caves of darkness, shadows hide

Look into my wounds and see

The fighting powers that will be

Ashes spread over my tomb

Fresh from a new fire’s womb

Roses red and coal dust black

Everything in life I’ve lacked

Burning heart of blood and fire

A piece of each that I admire

Burn ‘till nothing’s left within

Spread my ashes to the wind

Burn through life and into death

Cinders in my final breath

More beauty in the sun-bathed rose

Than wilting into soft repose

Forget my smoke, forget my shine

But your heart will still be mine

In the embers of my fire

Mixed will every deep desire

Burning down to dying ash

I will fly and I will crash

My life is nothing but a dream

A flaming game, a fiery gleam