My Write to Speak

I’ve presented several songs both with and without a video accompaniment. I’ve decided to try it out with poetry. I hope you enjoy it.

If lying lies within omission, then I admit that I have lied.

Untitled, by Alexa L.
written July 27, 2011

I do not tell you everything.
I let you read between lines,
among them.

I let you take from a poem
perhaps a feeling of sadness
or regret
or  I have totally been there.

I try.

A little.

Sometimes I don’t.

Sometimes I tell you what happened,
without really telling you.

Because when I say I miss him, I do.

But sometimes I don’t.

I say these things,
like notes stuck inside a time capsule,
a hundred or so years of solitude
barely understood
by the little girls with the twirly ribbons
and the shoes that light up
when they stamp stamp stamp
stamp
stamp their feet
to newly uncoordinated beats,
pulling at the contents like the heads of
Barbie dolls.

They read the love notes
and old poetry they’ve pulled
from beneath the broken swing,
drop confetti on torn photos of you and me
and smile,
giggling because they haven’t been there

not yet

they’re still too innocent.

They can mend their hearts with Popsicle sticks
and Elmer’s glue.

They can take the photo of me and you and make it
really, really pretty
until you can no longer see the cracks
they’ve covered in red and orange glitter
and gummy bears
and stickers
and marker that smells like grape.

They are biting their chocolate chip cookies,
spilling crumbs onto your cheeks,
wishing they could have met you
because you look like their Ken doll.

And when they turn old enough,
to know,
they won’t remember the photos, the notes, or the poetry.

They will not tell him everything.

They will start to write and never stop.