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A Collection of Things That Don’t Belong Anywhere Else - A • A • S - 24
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trying to raise the dead by Dorianne Laux
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Sitting with half my soul in an Italian restaurant
and she’s talking to me about sex and God,
And I’m remembering what it felt like to be on top of you and beneath you
What your hands felt like on my back and my breast
My ankles and my neck
In my hair and across my cheek.
And I cannot believe for a second this was not in some way holy.
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I miss being desired, and I think it’s turning me mean.
Like I want to make you hate me first to skip rejection.
My iron bars are so close together your hands will never fit through,
and I’ll be mean forever if I’m never touched again.
Nothing to do but wait and rot.
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I am ashamed of how I loved you so loudly despite knowing you did not feel the same.
Not because I loved you. And not because it was loud. But because how hard must it have been to know you were loved but to have to tiptoe past it every morning.
I still love you but it’s quieter. I have more understanding of how to love you for myself and not only so you know. I am content to never speak the words again.
Will you be content then to share space with me? Let’s play a board game in your sister’s house and swim in your parents’ pool. Be kind to me like always and I’ll revel in it like the warm glow of the sun above us.
I’ll never say the words again and I swear it will be enough.
-a.a.s.
#self care#im growing up#i could love you without thinking about it without even knowing it until i’ve loved you for months#poetry
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Does this silence not sound like drums to you?
Do you not ache with every beat, twitch with every crash, flinch at every household noise that’s off time?
How are you so still, untethered to the air in this room, unreached by the thrum in the very walls?
Can you reach me from where you sit, pull me out of the beating pumping thumping back to you and the rug and hardwood floor?
- a.a.s.
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#journal#loving#greiving#there’s a learning curve to long distance#and a learning curve to not being home
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Solipsism is real and I made you because I loved you, but even as God I cannot make you love me back.
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ONE DAY IT WILL BE DIFFERENT ONE DAY I WILL LOVE IN THE RIGHT WAY ONE DAY I WILL FALL WHERE ITS OKAY FOR ME TO FALL!
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One of the greatest joys of my twenty-something-hood has been watching my brother be a dad when he least expected it.
Somehow this has also been one of the hardest things to witness.
When we were all kids my siblings and I assumed I would be the first to have a kid.
Maybe it was because I have always been most like mom. Or maybe it was because I’ve always been the romantic.
Likely it’s an easily spotted combination of both.
But now I’m 24 and my nephew is almost 3 and I am not a mother.
Anyway, we are all so in love with him it doesn’t make much of a difference.
This week in my fourth year of twenty-something-hood, I moved out of my big brother’s house to an apartment halfway across the country,
and there is nothing I will miss more than watching my big brother grow up together with his son.
-a.a.s.
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God she’s like water; I could drink her in a thousand times and still always need more and more and more.
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In my parents’ basement between leases
I take a shower late, long after the laundry is put away
and long after my dad began snoring next to my mother who’s still reading.
I’ve been 24 for months by now,
but when the water hits my skin
and the echoes are all the same,
I’m 15 again.
Worried about what I’ll wear in the morning,
It’ll be Monday and I’m
stressed about my Spanish test,
and wondering if my friend are stressed out too.
I’m 16 and washing off my nights of work
and I’m wondering if my phone will ring
before I’m asleep for the night.
I’m 17 and I’m in love
and full of hate all at the same time
and I can’t wait to die,
but I’m desperate to experience life.
I’m 18 again and all my plans have changed
and I’m excited to go.
I’ve always been ready to leave,
and I still want to die, but I have things to do first.
I’m 21
back in my parent’s basement
losing money on time wasted at a college I no longer care about.
Saving up to try being an adult.
Vowing I’ll never live in this basement again.
Funny how home does that to a person;
all your own ghosts are right where you left them, and they know when you’re back to visit.
I’ll remember, this time, to kiss each one goodbye.
I won’t be home for a very long time.
-a.a.s.
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I wish when I spilled tea on the floor I would react like my father might instead of my mother.
I hope the day I spill wine on the bed my first moment after will be one of laughter, my mother’s instincts of immediate worry buried somewhere for just long enough that I am myself first.
I am working toward the day that I react with kindness to my clumsy child when the milk seeps into the carpet before my tone is stern with warning.
I want to do better than what I fear of her.
I won’t rest until I am.
- a.a.s.
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in this new year I want you to be alright. I hope you move out. I hope you have enough money to feel safe. I hope you abandon shame and forgive yourself. I hope you get enough sleep and some good news. I hope you laugh a lot and the heaviness of the world eases a bit. I wish you to be alright.
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I deleted your contact but I’ll always remember your number.
Part of me now.
Like I was never part of you.
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hey, Google,
Me: hey, Google, how do i tell my mom if she keeps treating her children as though we hate her, eventually we all will
Google: I found these results. Would you like to see more?
How to deal with a mother that tells her daughter she…
What to Do When You Dislike Your Child - Empowering Parents
I Hate My Mother: What to Do When You Feel This Way
How to Cope with a Toxic and Estranged Family Relationship
Simple Truths About Toxic Mothers I Wish I Knew Growing Up
Me: No. Nevermind.
-a.a.s.
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I would bake you anything you like.
I am not good at baking. I prefer to cook. And I’ll cook for you too, of course I will. But the tenderness of baking; the sweetness, the care, the necessity to keep a recipe, it’s so much more… it’s…
I will cook a thousand meals for you and they will keep your belly full and your body strong. But I need you to know I would make and remake the same pie until it was done perfectly just for you to have something melt in your mouth besides me. Something for you to desire after the meal you need.
I fail so often at baking but I would bake you anything again and again until I got it right.
Please come, sit, eat this cake I made, and then eat me too.
#journal poetry#something I thought about today when apologizing to you about the cookies#loving#baking
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It’s not that I’m leaving soon, it’s that my nephew knows I live here now. He calls my name down the stairs missing 3 letters, again and again, he needs me to reply, to let him know I hear him and that I’m on my way. And all he wants in the end is for me to sit in the kid size chair in his room and watch him build his legos and cheer for him when he jumps his cars. He is every version of my brother’s childhood I always wanted to know and he is the most loved thing I have ever ever seen. He is the only reason I’ll cry when cross the state line.
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