I could sit and write for ages about how the rain sprinkled lightly against my sleepers window.
Instead, I’ll settle for an I love you, I’m sorry, and please come home.
I’m everyone’s fucking backbone and I forgot how to standup straight.
I can write again, I can feel again. I’m moving to Boston and starting my new adventure (again?) I’m thrilled, I’m sick to my stomach. What is a life well lived with out everything conflicting at once?
I’ve got bruises on my hands from holding the weight you couldn’t;
Your eyes watch as the walk away proceeds.
I keep you with me
I keep you with me,
knowing I’ll love you more further down the line.
I have not yet compared the lives we are told to live
with the reality of each day.
The leaves fall in autumn and we understand that the trees are shedding their old skin to make room for new,
I never thought how hard that must be for such simple reasons.
How to cope with letting go,
falling out of self
creating new life.
It’s so simple
Painful and cruel
And I love you
There are times when all I see is blue and the words don’t seem to make sense and all I think about is how cold my skin is in comparison to your warmth,
I stare, at the ounce of confidence radiating from your pores,
You take me,
Further than I’ve ever been.
And I love you.
There’s a time you’ll see it:
When the blood is dripping down your knee the first time you fall off your bike at age 6.
When you kiss the boy you think you loved at age 14.
When you know your knuckles are bruised from fighting your own thoughts too long.
Sometimes it’s hard to think that everything that happens to you is out of your control,
to almost feed into the predestination philosophy and just be happy with where you’re at.
With all the people telling you “Just think of someone who has it worse..”
in this hell of a time I’m in I am going to ignore my despair to mourn someone else’s.
It’ll never make sense.
There’s a time you’ll see it:
When you’ve got a drink in one hand and a cigarette in another
grasping on to the conversation with a stranger in a crowded room at age 19.
When you think you’ve got thick skin and an even thicker blanket the first time you drove north.
When you finally threw your hands up
and screamed fucks and shits so loud the neighbors started looking.
When the tears don’t stop and the air is too tight in your lungs.
There’s a time you’ll see it:
When the lights shut off and you’ve got no one but your own arms to fall asleep in.
We’ve got different names for things like happiness
You say you’ve never broken a bone and I recount the stories
of flesh cut open and wounds only the doctors could lick.
I’ve never known exactly how to be still in your presence because nothing
calming accurately represents your demeanor.
you stand leaving tears in the eyes of your lovers because nothing touches the heart of a stone
nothing comes close to your eyes going dark,
and I dare you to tell me I’m wrong.
I dare you to say that you know how to change
and I promise that the next time your heart stops beating,
my love will be foot prints covering
the miles between us.
If my heart was only my own I swear this life would be easier.
Instead, I hand it to each and every one of you
on what seems like a cushion of promises and a pocket full of hope.
I can’t see that the roots are crumbling just as fast as the tree grew tall.
I am blinded by love
because I cannot feel any of it for myself.
I let it take over my body and suck me dry
leaving a hollow mess of a human,
and at what cost?
For the light in my room to go off at night with the worry that you’ll be gone?
I never knew how much I allowed to take me.
So I published an EP of my poetry! The link is sydneykenney.bandcamp.com and I’d super appreciate it if you could give it a listen, give me some feedback, or reblog this/ show your friends who are interested in spoken word!
I tried to sneak through the back door and out of this town.
I tried to remove my name from the boldness of that statement.
I tried to believe that the mistakes I have made taught me.
I tried to believe you.
I tried to believe that I knew how to live.
I tried to live.
I have never been so tired of living.
I tried to make sure you never saw the bad.
You saw it.
I tried to keep the windows open and the sun shining through.
I tried to keep the gas tank full and my eyes on adventure.
I have tried all of these things.
I have tried all of these things and failed.
I tried to succeed.
I still failed.
The day is coming and the back door is open.
I’ll try to remember your face when I look the other way.
When I was younger my floor seemed more comfortable to sleep on because I knew I didn’t deserve the comfort of a warm bed. My body would try to form to the concrete in hopes of molding my views on the world. In a helpless haste I would shut my eyes to dream.
I never understood that hardship was inevitable and jealousy always optional. It was never clear to me that even when the ground beneath my aching feet was breaking, trees were still growing tall.
It seems as though age creates a boundary between self and self. Growth and youth. Death and life. Knowledge and stupidity. Love and loss. I wish I knew when to believe these things were natural. When tears are okay. When the bruises on my body show my passion to keep moving.
I’ve never slowed my life down for anyone. There was never a love I’ve felt strong enough to give me hope in feeling comfort. My heart is hollow knowing that firm beliefs do not change. My mind is tired knowing that I’ll always have to fight to keep my legs moving.
I’ve always had my reasons for trying to keep you so close. I don’t think the thought of losing a piece of myself was ever so terrifying. Then I understood that that piece was never mine. There was always a part of me that belonged to you. Maybe it was in your eyelash or maybe the bottom of your chest. It was always there.
Tonight I sit in my bed with a pillow in my arms and tears on my eyes after watching a film of two young people going their separate ways. Adulthood had taken them away from their friendship and the love they showed reminded me of this:
of all the nights we spent drinking while conversation rattled on about everything and nothing. The one time we started talking about children and love. Life and Happiness. Each time I would refrain from smiling to make sure you knew I was still paying attention and not just adoring your gestures.
I can’t articulate my feelings because they’re too overwhelming to contain. They are scary.
My love can flood you. When it does the flowers will grow bigger and taller than you ever imagined.
I never want to say goodbye to you. I never want to be more than a short drive away from you. I never want to give you a final hug. I know that when that song we both sing plays, it will be the last time I see you.
I never want that day to come.