Amanda Helm - Departure (via amandaspoetry)
this is the first time you said hello and the time I ignored you on the elevator because I did not know yet that I loved you. these are the sheets that went untouched the first night you kissed me — you did not want more. This is the moment we romanticized my unshaved, prickly personality and made it something that could break.
Here it is -
all the moments you picked apart when you said goodbye,
strewn across the bathroom floor.
I ate your words like breath mints,
Tried to savor them, make them last forever,
so I never had to forget how you tasted,
but they burned a hole in my tongue.
explosive words are not meant to be consumed.
love was never meant to be toxic.
I have written three hundred and sixty seven poems
about our departure and my readers
tell me that I am unoriginal now.
I am still writing to heal my ache.
I am still writing to get it right.
if I am being honest, we tried too hard in the end.
I knew you were leaving when you put the toilet seat
back down and you did the laundry.
you cleaned the whole house and I knew you were
scrubbing every inch of yourself out of our home.
Whether this was for me or for you, I do not know.
I stare at these words you left me - these moments
we used to love.
I set them on fire
and wonder if I’ll catch, too.
Most of us are familiar with making sand sculptures at the beach, but we’ve never seen ones like these before.
In her Gravity series, Claire Droppert creates innovative sculptures by simply tossing sand in the air and photographing the results.