katydidapoem-blog

[katydidapoem-blog]

What’s safe(st) to take?

For a long time

I would not go to bed.

I got used to it.

You probably remember those months

where I slept in your lap.

I dripped poetry while you dripped paint

and we dipped our finger tips

in wax

and pinched our skin black.

  You would speak

and I would tell you

the taste of it.

For old time’s sake,

Which part of your body

Does this poem go to?

Your fingers or teeth,

The top of your chest,

your throat? Does it touch your face?

  I thought you were brave in your

Woman’s jeans, but I found

more comfort in your whimpering screams

in the dark.

Our words were soothing

For each other. Then what?

You told me what was safe to take

And what not to take, or do.

But who told you?

  For as long as I let it. And I do.

Despite it being my home

and our family.

If that stranger above

our window ever jumps.

I’ll come back for you,

and this time I’ll tell you!

I’ll tell you not to take it

and I’ll tell you what to do.

[katydidapoem-blog]

Lovingly Degraded

I once heard someone say

to my friend

“I want to lovingly degrade you.”

And my friend replied:

“I don’t know my own Father,

so that’s fine by me.”

And here I am again,

in Cambridge, wondering

which direction

promises this conversation,

or at least a cab,

a God,

a merciless mouth.

I walk.

It’s the potential I’m

in love with. The anticipation

of not knowing a soul,

or more importantly

a face.

What turns them on?

Attention (not affection) normally.

Is there a difference?

I certainly don’t care which.

But I don’t like being heartless.

I’m not good at it.

I quit.

I’m quite sure you’ll die 

a modern death,

although I’d like to see you

'happen'.

But you’re not as heavy as the books -

Or as happy.

Even with those heavy

black boots

In a calm procession of

Darling and Honey.

No matter how much money

they throw at us

I fear you’ll always be lovingly degraded.

And I’ll degrade myself.

I’ll be loving.

On behalf of you.

[katydidapoem-blog]

Poem: Choking

Viciously you observe - making me wait. You let me run away with my imagination,  but years too late.  You gave me hope, but when you woke, you knew me inside out and grabbed me by  the throat.

Passionately you hold - You choke, I choke myself. But sometimes,  when the passions slacks, I lean on you for help. I hate that you surround me, burried to the neck. And I know that you're not me,

But you're as close as you can get.

[katydidapoem-blog]

Poem: Always

'Can I hug you one last time?'

you say

as I role my eyes, pretending I'm fine.

'I'm OK'.

You hug me anyway,

in the same way as always with my face hidden,

and your best side showing off to the world.

And in some ways

I'll miss that.

In some ways? Always.

'Can I hug you one last time?'

you say

as we try to ignore the pittance of things to pack.

'I'm OK'.

You hug me anyway

and I mumble how we need to hurry up

and you say nothing because you never listen.

And in some ways

I'll miss that.

In some ways? Always.

'Can I hug you one last time?'

you say

as we drink too much wine on the roof of this place.

'I'm OK'.

You hug me anyway

and say how you love my face and my hair and my smile,

but I'm not as good as you by miles.

And in some ways

I'll miss that.

In some ways? Always.

'Can I hug you one last time?'

I say

as the car pulls up and you grin my way.

'Always',

you say.

An even though you're arrogant 

and vain and drunk and insane

in some ways

I'll miss that.

In all ways. Always.

[katydidapoem-blog]

Here's to me

Here’s to me getting on with myself.

I never did get along with

Everybody else.

And here’s to me giving everything I’ve got,

And everything

That I've since lost.  

And here in my head

I don’t have to shout.

Here in my head

Trying to work it out.

But in or out I still don’t know

What on earth this fights about.

Maybe that’s the reason why she won.

She fears what she can’t understand

And I can’t back down to anyone.

  So hear the anger through the drinking,

Hear me sobbing and over-thinking.

And here’s to crying through disaster

And here’s to stupid fucking laughter 

That I keep up for hours after.  

And in that moment I ruin it all.

Hear me chuckle to ruin the fun of the fall.  

And here’s to not knowing

How to fix it anymore.

Here’s to the memory

Of being adored.

I haven’t done anything

That I’ve not done before.

What’ve I done this time

That you can’t ignore?  

And hear the punch line of the joke

Hear the laughter through the lump in my throat.

Here’s to me

Here’s to giving up.

Here’s to me giving up on luck,

Here’s to not proving that I can be strong.

Here’s to crying

And crying

And crying

Because I got it all wrong.

Katy Card

[katydidapoem-blog]

Hold on

Curious eyes flicker this way

And that.

Whispering ghosts

And walls painted black.

Pillow like stone

Pressed against cheek,

So I smile through the darkness

To keep my mind on its feet.

  And your silhouette’s small

But I know that I’m safe.

Although I can’t see

An inch from my face.

  And what ever happened to that streetlamp outside?

I’m having some trouble keeping these thoughts up inside.

  But do you ever really listen

To a word that I say?

All the stories I tell

Seem to all sound the same.

And we’re so far from happy

When we have to go home.

And I can’t bear to think of you

All on your own.

  But you say

                      ‘Til the next time,

I have to hold on.

But hold on to what?

And hold on for how long?

  Because the floor boards are cracking

And my shoes are worn out.

And I can’t be heard in this house

Without having to shout.

And I’m scared of the dark

And I’m scared of the night.

  So if you’ll be my ears,

Then we’ll put up a fight.