11/3/24 8:48pm
I’m always having these dreams where I rear-end people and I think that stems from a trauma I haven’t met yet / I have trouble introducing myself / there are a thousand loose stitches in my grandpa’s sweater I stole about ten years ago / I never told him it was his / I don’t know if I ever will / he knows / I have trouble saying how I feel / it tastes bad in my mouth / it feels wrong on my skin / how it coats my teeth and how that light makes my pupils small / the time changes twice a year and so do I / it’s never been about the taste when your hands won’t let go of mine / I use a graph to find out how I feel / as if it’s something someone else has to teach me / I’m talking in my sleep to make up for the time I’m awake / someone told me men will shop until they die / changing their wives’ trim and replacing her tear-stained windows / I always wonder why they call it window shopping / when it’s more like stealing a pair of shoes and leaving your own in place / sacrificing everyone for your own happiness / sometimes it’s okay to be selfish
– ODH
About the Creator
Olivia Dodge
23 | Chicago
ig: l1vyzzzz & lntlmate
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Sept 2024 — The Big Fear
9/4/24 — 9/14/24 When the big fear comes between us, I want you to grab the sun with your bare hands, remember what it’s like to be love-sober, before the neighborhood cat was found sprawled on the sidewalk. I wish he would have asked if it scared me or if it hurt me, because all I knew was that it was bad. All I knew was this feeling did not want to be felt, that it had taken time, cradle to grave, to run from me, that I will never be rid of its pot-stuck rice no matter how hard I scrub it. I’m sure it will never be as clear to me as the directions I’ve written you, and by that I mean, can you please guide my wandering eyes through this blizzard? I don’t wish to beg. I spoke to the moon and her crater-painted face, and you would have loved what she told me. I can’t remember it now. Something about a palm-stricken face knocking tears into their senses, forgetting you brutally in the birth of autumn, seasons made for soup and crystal balls, and reminded me the hunger never stops, no matter how many cycles you’ve run that machine. I think you would have loved to hear her words. Just don’t let it come between us.
By Olivia Dodgeabout a year ago in Poets
Comments (1)
I love the way you write! Just saw some of your stuff for the first time and it’s so interesting! Keep it up