Tiny Clouds

tiny clouds

  Hannah Lyllith Newcomer

  Copyright © 2013 Hannah Lyllith Newcomer

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.

  For Isaiah

  Table of Contents

  Coffee colored irises

  [and so]

  [hemingway said]

  i can see a lot of life in you

  i decide to hide my heart with you

  [i keep you in between]

  [i love]

  [i think we all remember]

  intersect

  moonlight in my hands

  old bones

  [on the inside of my eyelids]

  [on the outside]

  [our wild nights were more than wild]

  permafrost

  [sometimes these words]

  tiny clouds

  too old for this

  vice grip

  you are not the simply made

  you’re dead but i still love you

  your fading splendor

  Coffee colored irises

  his eyes weren’t anything

  special; but i actually like

  brown eyes and i thought

  his were beautiful. and for

  the longest time his hair was

  down to his shoulders, covering

  his eyes

  and he shaved his head

  that summer

  but his hair slowly grew back.

  when it got long enough it was

  shaggy and had curls at the

  very ends

  i remember he held my

  hand for the first time;

  he asked- i said yes-

  and when we touched

  i felt a spark;

  my heart started beating

  and it never stopped

  but his did.

  [and so]

  And so I told him

  “I don’t think I can do this anymore

  because it only hurts my

  soul.

  I want my relationships to fit together

  like folded hands

  not one night stands

  and to

  mean something.”

  And so I watched him drive away,

  not waiting for me to get in the door

  not waiting to see if I would cry

  not waiting to watch my face fall

  as I realized that I had been right

  after all

  And so I let the pieces of my heart

  crumble and crack like the

  Berlin wall in 1989

  (well, physically 1990)

  but metaphorically is all I really need

  because that’s what hurts more,

  I think

  [hemingway said]

  hemingway said

  “writing is easy; you just sit

  down at a typewriter and bleed.”

  if that’s true, i want to slit my

  wrist and bleed all over

  this page.

  i want my blood to

  show you

  the things i feel

  the words i know

  the life i lead.

  so look at the

  blood on this page

  and drink it.

  i can see a lot of life in you

  i can see a lot of life in you,

  unlike myself;

  lifeless but still alive.

  and they say that one day

  this pain will make sense to me,

  but i don’t see that day coming at all.

  there is no light at the end of

  the tunnel, no life after death.

  no heaven, or hell, or god.

  but i can see a lot of life in you,

  does it come from somewhere,

  or is it just you?

  i decide to hide my heart with you

  i hide my heart in all the wrong places;

  in my chest and on my sleeve.

  i hide it in a box that keeps it safe and

  clean, but closed off from joy.

  i hide it behind layers and layers of

  pain, and darkness, and grief.

  but it leaves my heart so sad and

  lacking life and joy (which a heart needs).

  so i decide to hide my heart with you,

  because you will hold it and cherish it,

  give it love and protect it from all the pain

  that you can.

  i decide to hide my heart with you,

  because then it's not really hiding.

  [i keep you in between]

  i keep you in between my

  mattress and box springs

  (like people used to do with

  their money)

  because you’re worth so much

  to me,

  but i don’t think people t(old)ell you

  enough.

  they do(did)n’t tell you that

  you ha(d)ve beautiful eyes that can

  see right into the soul,

  or how nimble and quick your

  hands a(we)re,

  and that when you smile(d)

  it i(wa)s like the sky opening up

  after a rainstorm.

  and I know it’s a Little late nOw-

  better late than neVEr-

  but i thought YOU would like to

  know anyways.

  [i love]

  i love

  cigarettes and coffee.

  their bitterness

  compliments each other,

  and makes my life

  seem less bitter.

  because i can sit at a coffee

  shop on a beautiful morning

  drinking and breathing bitterness,

  but still see the sun and

  hear the birds and in my

  heart feel joy

  despite the bitterness.

  [i think we all remember]

  i think we all remember

  the last snow day we had

  (it was three years ago)

  because it was one of the

  most beautiful things we had

  ever seen.

  the snowflakes caught in our

  hair and our eyelashes and

  melted on our tongues.

  and you and i,

  we held hands so tight

  our pulses were in time.

  it was all we could do to

  not spontaneously combust

  like the sky seemed to have done.

  intersect

  i find beauty in odd things.

  the way the lines intersect

  (crossing each other like

  people on a sidewalk)

  on the palm of someone’s

  hand (making eye contact,

  then continuing on their

  seperate ways, but changed

  forever).

  moonlight in my hands

  i grasp the sky and

  come back with a

  handful of stars but

  you say it’s not enough.

  so i go back and return with

  moonlight slipping through my

  fingers;

  just like you did.

  old bones

  my skeleton is nothing but a

  prison; twisting and turning in

  ways i thought weren’t possible.

  i am nothing but a slave to these

  bones. they beg for desperate

  things, for empty thin
gs that

  have no meaning.

  these things are carved from

  my marrow, from these old

  bones that are only full of

  lust.

  [on the inside of my eyelids]

  on the inside of my eyelids

  i see my past fly by like

  a drive in movie

  stuck on fast-forward until

  the very end

  when the screen is black

  and the parking lot gets

  real quiet.

  and in the quiet i can hear

  your love,

  reaching out to me from the

  other side of town

  [on the outside]

  on the outside he was this

  mysterious

  aloof and

  sarcastic

  boy-

  young man-

  but on the inside i think he was

  screaming.

  for what,

  i’m not sure.

  maybe

  help or

  love.

  or both.

  and we tried-

  god, we tried-

  but sometimes that isn’t

  enough

  i guess.

  [our wild nights were more than wild]

  our wild nights were more than wild,

  they were beautiful and whole

  and full of a quintessential anticipation

  that kept us moving forward.

  we felt each other, and

  found each other.

  finally understanding how we

  fit together.

  but the night always ends

  and gives way to the morning

  sun, and the dawn left us

  wondering who we truly were.

  permafrost

  I look and see that there

  aren’t any flowers.

  Unusual for this time of year.

  There’s nothing

  in the field anymore.

  But it’s spring.

  Spring, already.

  The winter was a harsh, cold one.

  It left its frost covering all of us.

  Not even the sun could melt it.

  Our hearts are frozen now.

  Much like the ground.

  Permafrost never melts, you know.

  [sometimes these words]

  sometimes these words

  make my heart

  ache

  and i feel it crumbling

  into little, tiny

  pieces.

  so there is dust where

  my heart should

  be and

  it blows around in my

  chest and lungs;

  becoming life

  tiny clouds

  i’m sitting at that coffee shop—

  the one we used to sit at all the time,

  the one right next to school—

  and the smoke from my cigarette

  floats in the wind; and they look like

  tiny clouds and only exist

  for a moment.

  that moment is the same amount of

  time it takes me to

  blink, and when i do,

  all i see is you.

  and you’re sitting in the

  metal chair next to me and you’re

  still so beautiful and you reach out to

  hold my hand and when i feel your

  skin on mine my heart

  beats faster and love flows through my

  body like the wind in the trees—

  only more permanent, like a

  perpetual wind.

  but when i open my eyes

  i’m left with the bittersweet taste

  of nostalgia.

  too old for this

  i went back to the spot where

  we first met and i remembered.

  i remembered heart beats and

  your big brown eyes; looking at me

  as if i were something new.

  and i guess i was.

  and i remember that was years ago,

  when we were young and in love,

  when we believed in everything and

  nothing at the same time.

  and then i remember that i’m standing

  in a school hallway by myself,

  looking very out of place because

  i’m too old for this.

  vice grip

  you sat one seat away from me

  and then made me scoot over

  so i would be closer to you.

  and you held my hand

  and i held yours back with

  the vice grip i always used

  because i didn’t want you to go.

  but you got out of the car

  and walked in your front door

  and i never saw you again.

  you are not the simply made

  you are not the simply made;

  not just thrown together from

  leftover scraps of paper and

  colored paint.

  you are the fire’s flame,

  the wind’s sweet breath,

  and the ocean’s last tear;

  all put together for some reason.

  you’re dead but i still love you

  Dear Isaiah,

  you left while the rest of us stayed-

  well some of us did-

  and it took out huge chunks of our

  hearts.

  when i drew a picture for my art

  class of a heart with a black spot,

  that i indicated as yours,

  my teacher said that

  “one day that spot won’t be so black.”

  and of course she was right.

  and i can’t watch “titanic” without

  crying, partially because i’m a girl,

  and partially because jack’s last

  monologue always sounds like

  you’re talking to me.

  so i promise that i will survive,

  no matter what happens,

  no matter how hopeless,

  and i promise that i will

  never let go.

  Yours always,

  Hannah

  your fading splendor

  nothing can bring you back.

  not the flowers or the grass,

  not even the stars.

  but we will remember your

  spirit and your light and warmth.

  we will mourn you but for an hour;

  finding strength in each other and

  ourselves, in your memory and

  in the promise of our future.