Laurel's Blog

This is my blog.


I'm a little bit in love everyday with the way that you and you and you make me feel everyday I fall a little more in lust in reverie with everything you make me see everyday I'm a little bit in craze amazed at how you and you all make me love.
posted by Laurel  # 11:58:00 PM


so here it is the proof i needed and the reasons i needed to hang around here so now i guess i should be happy i don't think i'm that but i'm not quite sad i'm not quite weak but i don't think this is strength this is the most dependent independence i think i've ever felt this need to not need and this longing not to miss.
posted by Laurel  # 6:41:00 PM


For the first 30 seconds
of hearing your voice
I shudder, can't breathe
burst into tears and then write a poem -
that's how I know it's love.
posted by Laurel  # 3:23:00 PM



The recipe of me creates a bitter dish
of one part tired one part insane and one part just plain

Half of me watching for you to slink by
the other half saying fool go blind.

My chest burns from chocolate, too much sugar in my coffee, too much
syrup in my veins.

Sugar blues sugar rush and I drink it all like the wine
from your opulent cup in your days of I do,
on a sugar high I forget my brain’s rivulets
and its high-flying mountain-tops screaming halt.

And my hand forgets the hardened skin from the pen’s furious movement
in a desperate attempt to be
Fitzgerald Picasso or John Coltrane
(the brain’s attempt at love poems, at novels, at suicide notes.)

I forget on this high, the sight of blood
and 28 days of failed potential, an unused womb
an almost Van Gogh an almost Marilyn,
an almost Mozart down the drain,
the sticky jewel of afterbirth, the only time death
comes before life - From my desk

the window frames more
than the Mediterranean at noon
that shines in shaking greens and silvers
scorching louder than my forgotten white skirts
that floated over the grass and pulled me above
the roses the river the dirt.

I forget the way the sun reflected off my ring
and for a second I couldn’t see and I thought you were a Monet
in a brilliant stroke of blue, gold, white.

posted by Laurel  # 9:33:00 PM
New Amor

Sometimes I like to say
ti amo, je t’aime
because they’re newer ways
of saying that I know
the moment you wake up
by the gentle
turn of your head, the
deep breath in, and then
the sound of blankets shifting
as you slide out of bed, moving carefully
not to wake me.

Te quiero roughly translated
means I remember what you were wearing
the day you said hello, my name is –
Te quiero means the picture you don’t
know I have – grass and blue sky and
your figure small on the horizon –
sits faded in a box
locked by my bed.

Te amo, li desidero I say
instead of I know that look
when you learn something new,
the eyebrows and the way
your hands hold a pen, a guitar
my face
Te amo instead
of saying there’s a deafness
when you leave,
Te amo instead
of describing the emptiness
of a warm spot left
on your pillow, the letter
written in blue ink
that I’ve now memorized, the notes
of the song you used to
catch me, to keep me
Te amo instead
of I know your voice in
a crowd, your hands like
my own, your eyes that
scare me,
dark, too deep
Te amo, Je t’aime
Li desidero, something new.

posted by Laurel  # 9:31:00 PM


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