Jade Gatsby

A Poem

Photo by Caleb Stokes on Unsplash

early mornings
quiet hour
the scent of coffee
and sadness
wet hair drips

an icy inhale
fingers in pockets
frost covering
the sidewalk
and our bones

a lonely heart
beats in time
to the siren’s song
so sweet,
so hungry

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A Poem

Photo by Nate Neelson on Unsplash

I haven’t left the house
in twenty-one days
and I haven’t said a word
about all of my
most recent mistakes

I’m trying to put myself together
again and I never could measure
up to what I imagined
Hell, I never amounted to much
in this paper town
and these pounds stick to me
faster than I spend them

Every day is longer
than the last
and every night I wonder
if my journey
will continue past
tomorrow

Will I be different—
braver, smarter, a better writer,
more beautiful, more worthy?
Will anyone see
something in me
worthy of cultivation
or will I disintegrate like
wet paper,
escaping into
nothingness?

Ask the right questions
to get the right answers;
I never amounted to much
and this feeling astounds me;
I still haven’t figured it out.

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A Poem

Photo by Anthony DELANOIX on Unsplash

When it’s all over
will I find you
on my doorstep
waiting for me,
as you always did;

When it’s all over
will you wrap your arms
around me, alone
in a crowded room;
breathless
in a sea of bodies;
will you swim to mine?

When it’s all over
will you find me?

Do you hear that?
Listen.
They’re playing our song.

“Do you hear that, love? They’re playing our song. Do you think we’re ready?”

— He Is We, “All About Us”

This poem was written as part of the writing pompt published in the January 3rd edition of Scribe’s newsletter. Find out below how you can participate too!

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A Poem

Photo by Mark Boss on Unsplash

Tarot cards, moonlit walks,
tiptoeing in my stocking feet;
wine drunk and laughter slips
out of my heart and
into your hands

Three of swords, twenty bucks,
New Orleans never seemed so sweet;
honeysuckle and humidity
clings to my skin like
your lips to my neck

February fourth, hotel room packed,
sneaking out to your backseat;
falling in love
with the music
in your voice

Sun rise, sun set,
my eyes closing to your heartbeat;
three of swords lingers but
not yet, not yet,
not yet.

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Photo by Kym MacKinnon on Unsplash

It was a strange kind of night
the moon peeking out from behind heavy clouds
my hands gripping my steering wheel like
I was falling on a rollercoaster
though I was just driving slowly
outside of my house

We talked lightheartedly about
someone else’s relationship;
about how the two of them were
not really honest with each other
and how angry — disgusted — I felt
at the idea that two people could
hurt each other so much
while claiming to care

“Not everyone can have what we have,” you said,
in my passenger seat, looking out of the open window,
the cold breeze like a continuous shock
to my flushed cheeks
I heard the smile in your voice
and the blood pumping in my chest
and I stared straight ahead
my hands clenched.

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Photo by Jed Villejo on Unsplash

I notice that we have been
spending a lot of time together;
sitting together in class and
eating lunch and
walking down hallways,
our fingers colliding together before we
snatch them away and

Your skin is like the soft edges of a flame
I know if I touch you I’ll…

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